Breathing noisily, Harry and Ron trudged up the steep spiral staircase of the North Tower. Richard followed behind them.
"Good morning, gentlemen," he called out to the boys.
"Richie!" Harry exclaimed, turning round. "Hi. You chose Divination too?"
"As you can see."
"Good choice," said Ron. "I've heard it's the easiest subject going."
"And I'm hoping it's actually possible to learn how to predict the future," Richard replied.
The boys heard a multitude of voices overhead, which meant the Divination classroom had to be close. A few more steps brought them onto a cramped landing, where nearly the entire Gryffindor year and several pupils from other Houses had gathered. There wasn't a single door leading off the landing.
Ron craned his neck and pointed at the ceiling. There was a circular trapdoor with a brass plaque upon it.
Sybill Trelawney, Professor of Divination
"How are we supposed to get up there?" Potter asked.
Ron scratched the back of his head thoughtfully and suggested:
"Fly, I suppose. Blimey! If I'd known, I'd have brought my broom."
But there was no need to fly. The trapdoor suddenly opened, and a silvery rope ladder descended from above. The pupils fell silent in astonishment.
"After you," Ron said with a smile.
Harry climbed up first. Richard shook his head and said:
"Ladies first."
The Gryffindor girls smiled sweetly at Richard as they passed him.
Richie was the last to climb the ladder. He found himself in a very peculiar classroom. The room looked like a cross between an attic and an old-fashioned tea shop. Some twenty small round tables were crammed into the reddish gloom, surrounded by armchairs upholstered in gaudy fabrics and soft pouffes. The curtains were drawn across the windows, and numerous lamps were draped in dark red silk.
It was very warm and stuffy. A fire burned in the fireplace beneath a mantelpiece crowded with strange little objects, filling the room with a heavy, intoxicating fragrance. A large copper kettle was coming to the boil over the flames. Shelves ran all the way round the circular walls. There seemed to be no end of things upon them: dusty bird feathers, candle stubs, thick packs of battered cards, countless magical crystals and whole armies of teacups.
From somewhere in the gloom came a muffled, almost unearthly voice:
"Welcome. How pleasant to see you at last in your physical forms."
Professor Trelawney made a dramatic appearance in the firelight. She was very thin, and the thick lenses of her spectacles magnified her already enormous eyes several times over. A gauzy shawl glittering with silver sequins was draped over her shoulders. Countless chains and necklaces hung from her slender neck, while her fingers and wrists were adorned with rings and bracelets.
"Sit down, my dears, sit down."
The Professor welcomed the pupils as though they were honoured guests. Jostling one another, the students began taking their places, some in armchairs, others on pouffes. Harry, Ron and Richard sat around the same table.
"Welcome to Divination," Trelawney said, settling herself into a broad armchair beside the fire. "My name is Professor Trelawney. Most likely, you have never seen me before. I seldom leave my tower. The hustle and bustle of school life clouds my Inner Eye."
No one replied to this unexpected declaration. Sybill Trelawney adjusted her shawl with a slight movement of her shoulders and continued:
"So, you have chosen to study Divination, the most difficult of all the magical arts. I must warn you from the very beginning: I shall not be able to teach very much to those who do not possess the innate gift of Sight. Books can take you only so far..."
Harry and Ron exchanged smiles and looked at Richard, who remained utterly serious.
Meanwhile, Trelawney continued:
"Many witches and wizards, talented though they may be in other fields—Transfiguration, for instance—are quite incapable of lifting the veil that obscures the future." The Professor's gaze moved from one excited face to another. "This gift is granted to very few. Do you have any questions? You there," she said suddenly, addressing Richard, whose face was about as expressive as a cliff face. "My Inner Eye tells me that you wish to ask something."
Richard rose from his seat, gave the lady a courteous bow and said calmly:
"Professor Trelawney, I fully intend to master the art of foreseeing the future. Can you tell whether a person possesses the gift or not?"
"An excellent question," Professor Trelawney said delightedly. The firelight danced upon her long emerald earrings. She continued with perfect composure: "Over the course of this year, I shall determine how gifted each of you is in my subject. This year we shall study the fundamental methods of Divination. We shall devote the first term to reading tea leaves. In the second term, we shall turn to palmistry. Incidentally, my dear"—Trelawney's gaze darted towards Parvati Patil—"you should beware of red-haired people."
Parvati cast a frightened glance at Ron, who was sitting directly behind her, and shifted her chair away from him.
"In the summer term, we shall move on to crystal gazing, provided we have finished interpreting the tongues of flame by then. Unfortunately, there will be no lessons in February owing to an outbreak of particularly severe influenza. I myself shall lose my voice entirely. And soon, one of us who is not among us shall become two..."
The class fell tensely silent, while Professor Trelawney continued, apparently noticing nothing:
"Last June, thanks to my gift, I escaped a grave danger."
Lavender Brown, a blonde Gryffindor sitting closest to the Professor, shrank back in alarm, but could not restrain her curiosity.
"What sort of danger, Professor?"
Trelawney seemed to light up like a Christmas tree.
"On that fateful evening, I heard a suspicious whistling coming from the foot of the tower."
At those words, Harry tensed. He clenched his fists until his knuckles cracked and stared at the Professor in horror. All his amusement was swept away like a branch torn from a riverbank by floodwaters.
(End of Chapter)
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