Chapter 432: Detention
"Originally, I had narrowed it down to three. But now, I believe I can take them all," Sean said, a small smile playing on his lips.
"Do you honestly think a wizard's mental energy is—"
Snape began his usual mockery, only to pause mid-sentence. His expression turned uncharacteristically grave.
"Arithmancy and Divination. Drop them," he commanded, leaving no room for argument.
"May I ask why, Professor?" Sean asked.
"In our world, there exist certain individuals born with an innate capacity to peer into the fabric of the future," Snape said, his lip curling. "They see through dreams, tea leaves, tarot cards, or crystal balls. But true Seers are vanishingly rare. In the last few centuries, the only names worth mentioning are Cassandra Trelawney and Gellert Grindelwald."
"So, you believe Divination requires an innate gift to be effective?" Sean deduced.
"No. Divination cannot be learned," Snape sneered. "If you are a Seer, you do not need a classroom. If you are not, no amount of study will reveal anything but the fog in your own mind."
Sean went silent. Professor Snape was likely right. He had never heard of Grindelwald attending a seminar on prophecy, nor did Professor Sybill Trelawney's "technical" skills seem particularly impressive compared to her rare, uncontrolled fits of true sight.
In short: Seers don't need books, and the mediocre gain nothing from them.
"The Seers... yes, they can make prophecies," Snape continued darkly. "But predicting the future is a path fraught with madness, for the causality of a wizard's actions is a shifting, volatile thing. If you ever encounter a prophecy, Green, walk away from it.
"Mark me: if you despise the ending the stars have written for you, forget it. Fate is merely a foolish toy for the weak-willed."
"I understand, Professor," Sean nodded.
Prophecy was a rare and terrifying force in this world. The most prominent example was the one delivered by the Hogwarts Divination professor herself:
The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives...
"You would be wise to heed that," Snape added after a long, brooding silence. He seemed to be weighing another possibility, his eyes flickering toward Sean's forehead before refocusing.
"That covers wizarding prophecy. Beyond that, the Centaurs are also Seers, though their system is entirely alien to ours. Unless you happen to have a Centaur mentor and a promise from the entire herd to teach you their most guarded secrets—abandon the subject."
Snape wasn't sneering now; he was simply stating a hard fact. Even as the winter snow began its first thaw outside, the dungeon remained bitingly cold, holding a chill that the upper castle never quite reached.
Sean's eyes lit up at the Professor's words.
Snape, however, felt his vision go dark with exasperation.
"You've been into the forest to meet the Centaurs?!" Snape barked, his voice rising in shock and fury.
Centaurs were notoriously dangerous; their reasons for killing wizards were often as simple as they were terrifying—and they certainly didn't answer to Ministry law.
"Firenze, a Centaur, has agreed to be my private Divination tutor," Sean admitted. He figured if he stayed in the dungeon any longer, Snape might accidentally deduce that Dumbledore had a secret preference for woolen socks.
"SEAN GREEN!" Snape roared.
By the time Sean stepped out into the corridor, he was still processing the fact that he had survived another of Snape's storms. The Potions Master was becoming increasingly erratic, which left Sean more than a little perplexed.
But the good news remained: he had the Time-Turner. Snape had clearly "retrieved" it from the Ministry personally. It didn't come with the standard, suffocating restrictions; Sean only had to return it by graduation. A standard Time-Turner required annual Ministry inspections and had to be returned within two years.
The drafty corridor was still bone-chillingly cold, and the classroom windows nearby rattled in the wind. Sean spotted Hermione and Justin huddled behind a suit of armor. They looked thoroughly defeated.
"Finished your detention, Sean?" Justin asked with a weak, forced smile. He looked exhausted.
Sean nodded.
"Ours is just beginning," Hermione grumbled. "Fortunately, Professor Snape didn't take any House points."
Sean quickly realized that their theft of the potion ingredients for the Veritaserum project had been discovered. Or rather, Snape had finally decided to act on it. Sean opened his mouth to offer comfort, but recalling Snape's lingering rage, he found himself at a loss for words.
"Be careful," Sean said finally.
"Don't worry, Sean," Justin said, trying to be optimistic. "Getting Lockhart sacked was exactly what Snape wanted to happen anyway. Since he didn't dock our points this morning, I doubt he'll be too hard on us during the actual detention."
Hermione nodded in agreement. Sean paused. He let out a heavy, knowing sigh.
The next morning, Sean learned the unpleasant truth: Gryffindor and Hufflepuff had each been docked twenty points.
In the Great Hall, Hermione looked as though she wanted to phase through the table, leaving only her mouth above the wood to eat her breakfast. Justin sat in a state of catatonic shock, staring blankly at his porridge.
"What's up with them?" Harry whispered to Ron.
"Snape docked them twenty points each. But that's not the worst of it," Ron explained with deep sympathy. "He gave them triple detention—under Filch. Apparently, they were 'stirring their cauldrons with the wrong hand' or some such rubbish. I bet next time Snape will dock them points for entering the classroom with their left foot first. What do you reckon?"
"When did they get detention?" Harry asked, bewildered.
"This morning, while you were at Quidditch. Can you believe it?" Ron marveled. "They actually tried to nick ingredients from Snape's private office. That's like trying to tickle a dragon's backside!"
Harry looked impressed. He certainly wouldn't have had the nerve. He'd rather face Voldemort's shade again than Snape in a foul mood.
To the side, Sean gripped the gold chain of the Time-Turner and let out a soft sigh. It seemed that even his warnings hadn't been enough to stave off the Potions Master's spite.
The Hall was a hive of gossip, but Sean tuned it out. Once he saw that Hermione and Justin were beginning to recover their wits, he left the table and headed for the Room of Hope.
He needed to test the Time-Turner's limits and verify if his Wampus-based Legilimency could be amplified. Beyond that, he looked at an old entry in his notebook: he still needed to find Professor Flitwick to master the Shield Charm (Protego). As a former duelling champion, the Head of Ravenclaw was the undisputed master of defensive charms.
[End of Chapter 432]
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