Previously called TWO OF THE SAME
❝ It's better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all. ❞
Living with her godmother, Dorcas Meadows, and her uncle, Remus Lupin, 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 lives a pretty good life. That's unt...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
HARPER DESCENDED PROFESSOR TRELAWNEY'S LADDER together with Harry, Ron and Hermione, and the winding staircase in silence, then set off for Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration lesson. It took them so long to find their classroom that, early as they had left Divination, they were only just in time.
Harper chose seats right at the back of the room with Harry. She glared at everyone who was looking at her brother in pity. Because of that, she hardly heard what Professor McGonagall was telling them about Animagi, and wasn't even watching when she transformed herself in front of their eyes, something that usually interested her very much.
"Really, what has got into you all today?" Professor McGonagall said, turning back into herself with a faint pop, and staring around at them all. "Not that it matters, but that's the first time my transformation's not got applause from a class."
Everybody's heads turned towards Harry, making it hard for Harper to glare at everyone at the same time, but nobody spoke. Then Hermione raised her hand.
"Please, Professor, we've just had our first Divination class, and we're reading the tea leaves, and . . ."
"Ah, of course," Professor McGonagall said, suddenly frowning. "There is no need to say any more, Miss Granger. Tell me, which of you will be dying this year?"
Everyone, including Harper, stared at her.
"Me," Harry said, finally.
"I see," Professor McGonagall replied, fixing Harry with her beady eyes. "Then you should know, Potter, that Sybill Trelawney has predicted the death of one student a year since she arrived at this school. None of them has died yet. Seeing death omens is her favorite way of greeting a new class. If it were not for the fact that I never speak ill of my colleagues . . ."
Professor McGonagall broke off, and they saw that her nostrils had gone white.
"Divination is one of the most imprecise branches of magic," she went on, more calmly. "I shall not conceal from you that I have very little patience with it. True Seers are very rare, and Professor Trelawney . . ."
