Unofficial Portkey Archive

Chapter 23: It Begins Soon

As November came and neared its end, bringing a wintry chill to the air and the first hint of snow lightly frosting the ground, Harry was surprised at how calmly his days had been passing. There hadn't been a single threat from Voldemort in almost two months now, and owing to the fact that the Dementors had defected and the dark lord now had around fifteen Death Eaters with him, the lack of bad news was confounding to say the least.

Hermione had both Harry and Ron working harder than ever on their N.E.W.T.s, and since she was the organisational sort, she'd stayed up late one night devising a strict study schedule for them to go by. She'd even made up flash cards for each of their classes, and spent many an hour going meticulously through each one until she was sure the material had been memorised through and through. Ron called these the 'groaning hours', and Harry usually spent the better part of the first one keeping the two of them from another row, though he rather felt like Ron.

The one thing he missed since becoming the busiest he'd ever been, was the few times he was able to grab his broom (the fact that it was a Flametorch was a plus) head outside, and take to the skies before anyone could catch him. He craved these minutes of alone time, where he was able to gather his thoughts and find fresh perspective on the amazing amount of pressures and worries constantly pounding in his head. It seemed the higher he flew, the more in sync with his own body he became, and he was able to sort out those things he couldn't when surrounded by the circumstance. His father was one issue he was sure he'd never quite know how to deal with. He wanted to be able to connect with him; to be able to have the kind of father/son relationship he'd always so desperately needed. But on the deepest level, he knew the kind of relationship he'd craved all of his life was just simply not going to be. It had been too long; the chasm between them had grown much too wide and deep.

What he had craved was unconditional love; the full trust and knowledge that one's parent always knew best, and that they were always right; always the ones to turn to in times of need or trouble. But those were things learned early on, things not taught, just simply known and accepted in the normal growth of a parent/child relationship; one that had deepened with experience and years; one with plenty of time to nourish it; one that hadn't been broken. He hoped that he and his father would ultimately learn to trust and love each other, but he was a man now, and had grown up alone. He knew who he was and what he believed through himself, Ron, Hermione, Sirius and the Weasleys. And where did that leave James? He wasn't sure. There would always be a rift there; a day when some remark would leave Harry wondering who James thought he was to give him advice. Some time when he might come to resent James wanting to be fatherly to him, and even the simple knowledge, as he thought on now, that his own father really didn't even know who he was. It was these thoughts that made Harry know that no matter how long he and his father worked on their relationship, some things were constant.

Whoever it was that said "time heals all wounds" had left the phrase a little unfinished. Time did heal all wounds, but a scar always remained.

Despite the chaos of N.E.W.T.s, Quidditch, homework, Head Boy duties, and extra classes, Harry still found time to spend each night with Hermione. When all duties were done, they were able to retreat into their little corner of the castle, slam the portrait door on the rest of the world, and just breathe in each other. For Harry, it was his one saving grace, and he could honestly say he would rather be with her than breezing through the clouds. While being on his broom high above every circumstance gave him a chance to think clearly, the sky couldn't talk back, could it? Hermione helped him sort it all out, organise it, put it into perspective, and stack it up neatly for later pondering. After all, she knew him as well as he knew himself.

And when all the talk was done, it was wonderful to be with someone with whom you were comfortable even in silence. A home to come to, finally. To just simply put his arms round her and hold her close, slumped on the soft couch, in a dark room lit only by dim orange flames…to him, this was a glimpse of heaven.

Peace…such an underrated thing.

He'd had more talks with his father; each one a little less surface and a little more at ease. They were slipping into a rhythm of being, a nod and smile here, a conversation there, invitations to meet with one another for a butterbeer and catch up, no pushing to open up; one could open up if they wished. James had filled Harry in on a lot of the missed events of his own life, which consisted most of hiding out under assumed names and taking odd jobs. He'd helped Harry to see his mother through his fathers eyes; helped him to know the kind of witch she was. Though, he told Harry, the easiest way to know his mother was to know Hermione, as their personalities were so much alike.

The Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts classes were going better than even Lupin had expected. Each student continued to improve daily, and as was habit for him, Lupin paid special attention in his own mind, on how his son and his two friends were coming along. Ron had become so adept at defensive spells that when it became time to break into pairs to practice, no one seemed to want to pair with him voluntarily. Harry was wonderful at defence himself, but his strongest suit seemed to be attack. He had become so proficient at it, that he was hardly put on defence himself at all, including his classes with the sword. He was now able to perform wandless magic almost exclusively, even at times he seemed not to be concentrating especially hard on it.

And Hermione; her skills seemed to be the most unusual of them all, due to the fact that they had been so unexpected. She'd been working with Pomfrey on almost every case that came into the infirmary since the incident with Malfoy, and she was now able to perform healing magic on almost every ailment, though still using her wand, with either a dramatic improvement or complete recovery. She'd wowed Poppy even more at times when she seemed especially emotional about a particular injury, as it seemed then her wand was hardly needed. Pomfrey assured her that even the most expert of healers required the use of their wands at all times. She was so awed by the power for healing Hermione seemed to possess that she'd already sent in a recommendation that she be tested at graduation level at University of Sorcery, subject: "The Healing Arts". If she passed, Hermione would be assured a job at St. Mungo's as soon as she left Hogwarts.

However, as Harry had only half sarcastically put it to Hermione and Ron one night, since Voldemort had decided to pause on rearing his ugly head for a while, something else had to happen to take his place, didn't it? What would the life of the 'terrific trio' be without drama? He was right as he would soon find out.

Ron and he still attended their classes on Divination with Trelawny without fail, and were bent on paying attention to her for once, since the prophecy she had made several months prior seemed to be unfolding before their eyes. So it was, this particular Thursday afternoon, the twentieth of November, that Harry and Ron, and later Hermione as well, received another disturbance to add to their already toppling pile.

The class went by as usual, with a curiously nervous Trelawny looking more owlish that ever behind her enormous magnifying spectacles. As ever, the classroom was overly perfumed and warm, even though the temperature outside had dropped considerably, and the red scarves she kept over the few lamps lent it a sickly pastel colour. Round tables, set here and there were surrounded by students, the majority of whom were trying their best to stay awake. Every now and then as she spoke, Trelawny would walk between the tables and rap students with heavy eyes and nodding chins on the top of the head with her wand. She seemed oddly rigid and tense, but kept her voice as steady as possible as she droned on about the art of psychometry, in which a wizard or witch talented in feeling the "emanation" certain objects gave off, or more commonly known as "scrying", could get senses or emotions on the history and use of the object.

"For instance," continued Trelawny, turning her head very quickly to glance at Potter and sighing tremulously(it was so quick that few noticed save he and Ron), "some of the gifted are able to hold certain medicines in their hands, and feel the symptoms of the last wizard to have used it. Yet again, some are able to get a sense of the 'history' if you will, of an object; any one, be it an old wand, a cloak, a key, or even a bottle. All objects give off an emanation, an aura…"

"Wonder if she can tell how this was last used," whispered Ron indifferently, flipping a bird under his desk.

Harry swiped a hand down his face and slumped even further in his seat, doing his very best to pay attention. So far the class had been the usual rot. It was only when Trelawny seemed to go mental that she ever spoke anything of consequence anyway. Though these days he wasn't sure he'd know the difference when it came.

Parvarti, whom Lavender insisted on sitting with since she knew how Ron felt about the class, suddenly spoke up. "Oh professor, I feel sometimes I have that gift. I'm sure of it!"

Half of the class groaned, but a murderous look from Trelawny shut the whole of them up.

"Go on, Ms. Patil."

"I've a bracelet a certain someone bought for me not too long ago," sniffed Parvarti quite proudly, as if she were the only girl to ever receive gifts from a boy. "Every time I wear it, which is often, I get the most peculiar feeling…as if, oh I dunno…as if the last owner was unethical…a leery sort."

Trelawny smiled proudly at her. "Well done, Ms. Patil. You may very well have a bit of the psychometrist in you. Are there other objects you seem to feel…"

"Hang on," called out Dean Thomas, sitting next to a suddenly pale Seamus Finnegan, "Let's see that bracelet…"

Parvarti whipped round to stare suspiciously at him. "What for?"

" Mr. Thomas, we've a lesson to finish," said Trelawny, annoyed.

Dean grinned. "Just hold it up a sec."

Parvarti looked at Dean as if he was a huge nuisance but shook her dark hair, rolled her eyes and held up her wrist haughtily for all to see anyway.

Seamus looked as if he were trying to disappear under the table, but a sniggering Dean suddenly grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked him up, poking him hard in the ribs with his elbow.

"Finnegan! You dirty dog!"

"OW! Bloody hell, you sodding…"

"…That isn't the bracelet you gave to Mirabel Adkins last week!?"

Parvarti's jaw dropped and Seamus began to stutter. "W..well I…that is…"

Dean snorted heartily. "…and Bertrand Porter the week before, and Adelaide Thompson two weeks before that…HA HA!"

Dean slammed his head onto his desk howling, Ron began to perk up significantly, Parvarti began colouring and Seamus kept paling.

"No, you see…it's not how you think…" said Seamus desperately, watching Parvarti grow more and more furious.

"How dare you…" she hissed yanking the bracelet off and throwing it onto the floor. "Bertrand Porter!? And Thompson… that thick blonde Hufflepuff!?"

Lavender reached over to console her, patting her on the back and giving Finnegan a scathing look.

Dean raised his head from the table and swiped at the tears streaming down his cheeks, barely controlling his voice. "Y'might be a true psychometrist! Unethical and leery…that bracelet's gotten Seamus more arse this year than ever before…"

"DEAN THOMAS!" shouted Trelawny furiously.

"Have you gone barking mad!?" wheezed Seamus, gripping at Dean's robes.

Ron howled, slamming his fist onto the table and Harry laughed out loud. As the entire class followed, bursting into laughter, Harry thought this was the best class they'd had yet. Parvarti looked ready to commit murder.

Before Trelawny could speak another word, the bizarre clock on the wall suddenly switched Mars' path with Jupiter and announced in a rather trance-like voice that class was over.

Students began to scramble up and Trelawny placed a hand on either side of her head as if literally holding it together.

"Fourteen inches on Psychometry, the art and its uses by tomorrow!" she called out almost wearily as students began to leave.

The class seemed to sag as a whole at that, but roared with laughter once again as Seamus frantically blazed a path through them screaming "ONE SIDE! OUT OF MY WAY!" with a violent Parvarti hot on his trail, her wand out and ready to hex.

Before Harry and Ron could make their escape however, Trelawny called them back. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, I'll need to speak with you."

Harry sighed and turned back round with Ron to re-enter the class.

"D'you suppose she saw me flip her?" whispered Ron anxiously.

"Doubt it," said Harry.

They approached Trelawny's desk where she slumped wearily wrapping her shawl round her shoulders and dropped their books onto a nearby table.

Trelawny glanced up at them impatiently. "Well, c'mon then. Pull up chairs, this might take a bit."

"Professor we have Advanced DADA," said Harry as they sat. "We'll be late…"

"I've cleared it with Professor Lupin for you two to be absent today. And as what I have to say may very well involve Ms. Granger as well I'll trust you two to fill her in once we're through."

Harry sat up quickly. "What about Hermione…"

"Not her directly, or either of you two for that matter," said Trelawny. Once again she affected her usual otherworldly voice.

"Last night, while I slumbered…I had a dream…rather a vision as we with the inner eye are sometimes wont to do," she sighed dramatically as if it were such a burden to be so gifted. Ron rolled his eyes as she continued. "I carried it to Dumbledore this morning, and he felt same as I, that it somehow might involve the three of you, quite possibly as my last prophesy did," she emphasised sternly.

Ron's jaw dropped and he sat up shocked, looking from Trelawny to Harry. "But how…mate you didn't tell…"

"Oh yes, I know about that one," said Trelawny quite importantly.

"But you seemed catatonic…quite unaware you'd said anything," said Harry, just as surprised as Ron seemed to be.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Parvarti and Lavender, then."

Trelawny nodded, eyeing them sternly as she did. "They told me of the prophecy I made. I would've never known if they hadn't. And it well benefits you they did, as it made me aware this vision may be somehow linked."

"Linked…" said Harry.

Trelawny sat up. "As in again pertaining to you and yours, Mr. Potter."

Harry sighed a bit sceptically but thought to himself that it might well serve them to hear it anyhow. "All right, we're listening."

Trelawny tensed theatrically, as if she were mentally preparing herself for recalling something extremely momentous and then spoke. "Well, 'vision' might be an inappropriate word for what I had, I suppose. I did see things, but they were only shapes; a triangle, a circle; though the circle was quartered, each part having been separated from the others, but clearly belonging to the whole. The rest was more a prophecy, of sorts, but one that I saw written in my head, as if the words were etched behind my eyelids. I could read them very clearly."

Harry and Ron nodded for her to continue, however still quite dubiously.

"It was quite foreboding," said Trelawny dreamily. "The words felt extremely urgent. I'll recall it as best I can, though I doubt I've forgotten any of it as I don't often receive 'messages' of this nature. Let me see…

'The strongest link shall lead the fight, from dawn of day to dark of night.

The second link, his closest friend, from start to finish shall defend.

The third link; the stablest one, shall heal until the fight is done.

Should the equal fail the fight, darkness shall fall and veil the light;

lest one whose worth is not yet known, should yield his life for his own.

Then must the circle, in fourths, undone, reunite to form as one.

For division brought about the bane, a purge of lines, the innocent slain.

All must join, in heart and hand, for the divided fall, but the united stand.' "

When she was done, Harry and Ron, both with gazes that revealed they weren't sure of anything anymore sat facing the Divination teacher with nothing to say. And for the first time they could remember, Trelawny dropped all signs of pretence.

She stared at the two for a time before speaking in the most sincere voice they'd ever heard her use.

"I know what you two think of my class. I know you think I'm a right old fraud…"

Harry swallowed. "Well…you see it's not…"

Ron glanced at Harry as if he needed reassurance he'd really just heard what he had. The look on Harry's face gave him no doubts.

"However, if I've ever been sure of anything in my whole life and career, I'm sure of this one thing…It was real what I experienced last night. Call it a dream or a vision, whatever you must… but dark times are ahead, darker than ever before…I feel it in my bones." She gave the two boys her most piercing gaze, but they would've felt the rightness of her words even without it. She continued gravely.

"For some reason, you three are directly involved. Mr. Potter, we've known of you ever since the night You-Know-Who gave you that scar, but as for Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger, I think it safe to say that none of you met by chance."

Once again the two sat still, staring numbly at her until Harry finally spoke up quietly. "I think we agree on something, for once."

A few minutes later and Trelawny was left by herself in her warm pastel classroom, the only sounds coming from the pinkish flames crackling in the hearth. Yet she still hadn't moved from her place behind her desk. She felt useless for once, purposeless; surrounded by futile trinkets and crystals and portents that suddenly mattered not at all. Her gaze bored an uneasy hole into the desk before she spoke quietly to no one at all.

"It begins soon."