Chapter - 31 : Disillusionment Part - 4
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Trying not to sneeze from the strong incense floating around the room - and contemplating the professor's unfortunate resemblance to a bug - Harry and his friends listened to Professor Trelawney's opening lecture.
He'd been looking forward to the divination lesson. Knowing he'd signed up for the class last year, several of his ordered summer books had covered the topic. In addition to the class textbook "Unfogging the Future" - which seemed more like a "how to" manual at times than an overview of the subject - he'd also read three others. Of them all, he'd only really enjoyed one: "Divination's Dividends: an Overview of its Opportunities and Limitations." The others had been kind of interesting, but also very confusing, and filled with conflicting and vague opinions, (sometimes within the book itself). If he hadn't ordered the Divination's Dividends book, he was sure he'd have been completely lost. Actually intended as an introductory textbook for adults, it did what Unfogging didn't: gave an overview of all forms of divination, dispelling rumors about what was and wasn't possible with it while also giving some sort of order - and underlying principles - to what even the author had admitted was an imprecise and varied art.
He was already planning to order away for the author's other book: "Forget the Future – Finding the True Treasure of the Diviner's Discipline."
But the fact that Professor Trelawney was starting her class with trying to get them to scry something of the future - not even explaining the basics! - was filling him with a very bad feeling.
And... He glanced at Hermione's slowly narrowing eyes, and winced. I don't think Hermione approves of Trelawney.
Then Neville tripped over his own feet, shattering a cup, blushing as Trelawney swooped in, and Harry sighed. I've not even looked into the tea leaves yet, but somehow I have a bad feeling about this. And then transfiguration is next.
His earlier feeling of doom was rapidly returning.
They were coming out of transfiguration and headed down to the Great Hall for dinner when Hermione spoke. "Guys, we need to have a Meeting."
They could both hear the capitals. Not just a study date, then.
Ron shook his head. "Can't be tonight - you and I both have detention till 10."
"We could try sneaking out after curfew...?" Harry half asked, half suggested, contemplating the merits of the plan.
"No," Hermione asserted. "It's not urgent. Stupid to get in trouble over it. But it should be soon - tomorrow night?"
Harry shrugged. "Sounds good to me. We should be able to slip away after dinner - everyone will assume you're either at detention again, or that we're studying."
She nodded. "Tomorrow then." Her voice was firm, but there was a touch of something in it...
He frowned, but didn't push. If Hermione said it could wait, then it probably could. Maybe she was still just angry at Trelawney's stunt earlier trying to predict his death. Not that he'd particularly enjoyed that either, but it'd been worth it to watch Ron loose his cool at a professor - and get away with it. Apparently, predicting his best friend's death was a great way to get Ron pissed.
And they were almost to Gryffindor table anyway.
Dropping the topic, he sat and began filling his plate, starting with the mashed potatoes. Across the table from him, Fred grinned. "Enjoy divination, Harry?"
Wondering if the topic was already all over the school - given the way Hogwarts gossip worked, probably - he rolled his eyes and just focused on eating, leaving Ron or Hermione to answer. They both had detention tonight, and the three of them were planning on meeting tomorrow night, which meant he'd have all tonight to practice every wanded spell he knew. If there was any truth to Ron's suggestion that all he needed to get back to normal was practice, he wanted to get it over with.
With both potions and defense on his schedule - plus whatever Hermione was worried about - he wanted to be back up to speed as soon as possible.
Trying not to sneeze from the strong incense floating around the room - and contemplating the professor's unfortunate resemblance to a bug - Harry and his friends listened to Professor Trelawney's opening lecture.
He'd been looking forward to the divination lesson. Knowing he'd signed up for the class last year, several of his ordered summer books had covered the topic. In addition to the class textbook "Unfogging the Future" - which seemed more like a "how to" manual at times than an overview of the subject - he'd also read three others. Of them all, he'd only really enjoyed one: "Divination's Dividends: an Overview of its Opportunities and Limitations." The others had been kind of interesting, but also very confusing, and filled with conflicting and vague opinions, (sometimes within the book itself). If he hadn't ordered the Divination's Dividends book, he was sure he'd have been completely lost. Actually intended as an introductory textbook for adults, it did what Unfogging didn't: gave an overview of all forms of divination, dispelling rumors about what was and wasn't possible with it while also giving some sort of order - and underlying principles - to what even the author had admitted was an imprecise and varied art.
He was already planning to order away for the author's other book: "Forget the Future – Finding the True Treasure of the Diviner's Discipline."
But the fact that Professor Trelawney was starting her class with trying to get them to scry something of the future - not even explaining the basics! - was filling him with a very bad feeling.
And... He glanced at Hermione's slowly narrowing eyes, and winced. I don't think Hermione approves of Trelawney.
Then Neville tripped over his own feet, shattering a cup, blushing as Trelawney swooped in, and Harry sighed. I've not even looked into the tea leaves yet, but somehow I have a bad feeling about this. And then transfiguration is next.
His earlier feeling of doom was rapidly returning.
They were coming out of transfiguration and headed down to the Great Hall for dinner when Hermione spoke. "Guys, we need to have a Meeting."
They could both hear the capitals. Not just a study date, then.
Ron shook his head. "Can't be tonight - you and I both have detention till 10."
"We could try sneaking out after curfew...?" Harry half asked, half suggested, contemplating the merits of the plan.
"No," Hermione asserted. "It's not urgent. Stupid to get in trouble over it. But it should be soon - tomorrow night?"
Harry shrugged. "Sounds good to me. We should be able to slip away after dinner - everyone will assume you're either at detention again, or that we're studying."
She nodded. "Tomorrow then." Her voice was firm, but there was a touch of something in it...
He frowned, but didn't push. If Hermione said it could wait, then it probably could. Maybe she was still just angry at Trelawney's stunt earlier trying to predict his death. Not that he'd particularly enjoyed that either, but it'd been worth it to watch Ron loose his cool at a professor - and get away with it. Apparently, predicting his best friend's death was a great way to get Ron pissed.
And they were almost to Gryffindor table anyway.
Dropping the topic, he sat and began filling his plate, starting with the mashed potatoes. Across the table from him, Fred grinned. "Enjoy divination, Harry?"
Wondering if the topic was already all over the school - given the way Hogwarts gossip worked, probably - he rolled his eyes and just focused on eating, leaving Ron or Hermione to answer. They both had detention tonight, and the three of them were planning on meeting tomorrow night, which meant he'd have all tonight to practice every wanded spell he knew. If there was any truth to Ron's suggestion that all he needed to get back to normal was practice, he wanted to get it over with.
With both potions and defense on his schedule - plus whatever Hermione was worried about - he wanted to be back up to speed as soon as possible.
She didn't have a choice to make.
Twisting the fine gold links of the hourglass's chain through her fingers, dorm room silent around her, Hermione rolled her eyes at how stupid that sounded, even to herself.
But it was true. She didn't have a choice to make. She'd already made her choice two nights ago, listening to Ron and Harry talk about killing someone, huddled together in a room filled with weapons of war.
She'd put conditions on it, of course. Reserved the right to tell them when they were being stupid, when they needed to revise their plans. But Harry had asked... and she'd said yes.
She felt again that flash of anger that had burned through her that he'd had to ask, and maybe Ginny's death had changed her more than she'd thought. Because she wasn't hurt that they doubted her, wasn't relieved that they'd given her a chance to back out. No, what she'd been was mad. Because they should have known. Because they shouldn't have needed to ask. Because, among other things, if she'd planned on ditching them, it would have been during the summer, when both of them were pretending that she didn't exist. The only reason she hadn't given up on them, that she'd kept writing, kept reaching out to them by mail instead of just waiting to smack them over the head when they met up come the new school year, was that her letters were never returned unopened. And that their owls kept coming back. Empty taloned, but still there. Waiting.
So yes, she'd made her choice. She made it first two years ago, lying to the professors after the two of them had come between her and a mountain troll, when they could have run away. Had made it again when sneaking out with them to a duel in an effort to keep them out of trouble, made it when she helped them plan how to smuggle a dragon. Made it when she'd followed Harry after the philosopher's stone, sneaking by a three-headed monster she recognized from her readings of Greek classical myths. She'd made it the next year, standing with them against parseltongue inspired rumours, and again, brewing polyjuice in a deserted bathroom to break school rules. Had made it when she gritted her teeth that summer and picked up a book on offensive and defensive magic, forcing herself to practice curses that could injure and incapacitate, when she'd never hurt anyone in her life.
It was, in the end, a choice she'd made not last night, but years ago, and made in all the years since, again and again, the same choice in a hundred different guises. It was a choice she wondered now if she could ever not make.
She clenched her fingers, feeling smooth glass and cold metal between them, then relaxed. All of which didn't mean she never doubted. Never hesitated, never worried. A witch could be bound to her word, but magic had to be invoked to do it. And she wondered at the trust Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore had in her, to bestow such a priceless artifact when she was too young for such a working to be demanded. To only ask for her complete silence, no guarantee but her given word, no safeguard but her promise of secrecy.
She'd lied even as she'd sworn, looking at their grave faces. Lied because something in her had died a little, since she'd first woken in the hospital months ago, into a world where everything had changed. Something that had urged her to trust, and respect, and obey, to be good and quiet and follow the lead of adults. Something that had been broken, when she saw how the Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were going to let this go, how Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall were going to let this go. Were going to punish them for not doing the same.
She closed her eyes for a moment, and took a deep breath. Exhaled. Stood up, dropping the chain over her head, tucking the hourglass safely away under her robes. Gathered up her books, ready to head down to meet Harry and Ron for breakfast. She'd already made her choice.
And if Dumbledore and McGonagall would have preferred she make a different one, they should have done something years ago.
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IF YOU WANT TO READ MORE BY 70+ ADVANCED CHAPTERS YOU CAN DO IT BY GOING TO
(P).(A).(T).(R).(E).(O).(N)
patreon.com/BLAKE025
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