The Divination classroom was unlike any other space in Hogwarts, an otherworldly sanctuary cloaked in mystery. As I stepped through the trapdoor and into the round room, it felt less like entering a place of study and more like I'd stumbled into an eccentric fortune-teller's lair. The air was thick with the heady, cloying scent of incense, its tendrils curling through the dimly lit space and teasing my senses. Velvet drapes of deep crimson and purple hung everywhere, their folds cascading like waterfalls over every surface. Crystal balls and glowing lamps added a diffuse glow, but the corners of the room remained shrouded in shadow, adding to the room's surreal ambiance.
I wrinkled my nose against the overwhelming scent, which seemed to cling to the back of my throat. "Does it always smell like this in here?" I whispered to Neville, who was just ahead of me.
He shrugged, his round face pinched in discomfort. "I dunno, but I think I already have a headache."
We found two pouffes positioned near the middle of the room and sat down. The pouffes, soft but slightly lumpy, sank beneath our weight as if trying to swallow us whole. Around us, students were settling into their spots, their faces ranging from curious to skeptical. A few seats away, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were arranging themselves. Harry and Ron appeared mostly amused by their surroundings, but Hermione's furrowed brow betrayed her clear skepticism.
Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, however, were buzzing with excitement. Their giggles carried through the hushed room as they whispered to each other, occasionally glancing toward the front with wide-eyed anticipation.
Suddenly, from behind a thick crimson drape at the head of the room, a voice emerged, soft yet theatrical, and tinged with a husky reverence. It was a voice designed to ensnare attention and build suspense.
"Welcome, my children," the voice cooed, drawing out each syllable with care. "In this room, you shall explore the mysterious art of Divination. In this room, you shall discover if you possess..."
The drape fluttered dramatically aside, and Professor Trelawney floated into view. She was tall and willowy, wrapped in layers of flowing shawls and scarves that trailed around her like smoke. Her oversized glasses magnified her eyes to an absurd degree, giving her a permanently wide-eyed, almost insect-like appearance.
"...the Sight," she concluded, her voice dropping to a whisper as she peered at us through her enormous lenses.
I exchanged a quick glance with Neville, who seemed unsure whether to be impressed, unnerved, or both.
Trelawney's movements were deliberate and fluid, her bangles jangling softly as she clasped her hands together. "I am Professor Trelawney," she announced, her voice lilting as if she were delivering a prophecy. "Together, we shall peer into the mists of the future and discover what lies beyond the veil of the mundane. But know this," she said, holding up one finger for emphasis. "The Gift cannot be learned. One either has the Sight, or one does not. Books..." she paused to glance disdainfully at Hermione's neatly arranged textbooks, "...only cloud one's Inner Eye."
Hermione shifted in her seat, her face flushing slightly, and I suppressed a grin. Even without saying a word, her skepticism was palpable.
Trelawney began to glide between the pouffes, her shawls trailing like cobwebs behind her. Her enormous glasses magnified her every glance, and she seemed to zero in on individuals with a kind of eerie precision. She paused in front of Neville, tilting her head like a bird inspecting its prey.
"You, boy!" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with dramatic urgency. "Is your grandmother well?"
Neville blinked, startled by the sudden attention. "I... I think so," he stammered.
YOU ARE READING
human again / hp.
Fanfiction"I already forgave you, so why can't you forgive yourself?" She's a Malfoy. He's a Potter. Celeste Malfoy has always walked a fine line between the world she was born into and the one she chose for herself. At Hogwarts, nothing is simple. Not friend...
