Grading Ficlet for fourth_rose: What Is Hidden, What Is Known
Rating: G
Category: genfic
Era: Harry Potter’s fourth year
Main Characters: Harry Potter, Sybill Trelawney
Ship(s): none
Keywords: Divination
Summary: Professor Trelawney makes another prediction and Harry Potter refuses to see into his future.
Author's notes: A grading ficlet for fourth_rose, after a call for prompts on the 19th December 2006. Sorry that this is so late! *blushes* Beta-read by jaelle_n_gilla and nohwrah. Thank you both for your wonderful work. You rock! Any remaining mistakes are mine.
Word count: 655
Concrit is always welcome!
What Is Hidden, What Is Known
“Harry Potter!” With a grand gesture, Professor Trelawney slung one of her shawls around her neck and almost strangled herself in the process. “I don’t know how you dare to continuously refuse to see what is about to become true. Especially after endangering yourself by enrolling in that perilous Tournament.”
“I didn’t enroll,” protested Harry, only to hear Ron snorting with contempt from across the room. Wonderful! Now Ron had another source to fuel his anger with Harry for being a participant of the Triwizard Tournament.
“There!” she screeched and pointed into his cup. Her numerous bracelets tinkled. “Take a look and see what is spelled out right before your eyes! Do you see that curl over there? And that swirl here? There will be fire and water and confusion. See how they all spin together towards that black dot in the middle? You will have to find your way through the darkness and at the end - death is waiting!” Trelawney’s voice rose another pitch.
Harry refused to take another look at the contents of his cup and continued to glare at his Divination teacher instead. His lips were pressed together in a tight line.
She moved her gaze from the cup into his face. “You aren’t looking…” Her voice hung in the air as if she had lost track of her speech.
“No, Professor.”
“You aren’t even trying.” She paused again, and this time, Harry didn’t confirm her statement.
“This is… I will not…” She suddenly pulled herself up to her full height, arranging her shawls to arch in an elegant array of bows around her shoulders. “I will not be made a fool of by one of my students. I could take twenty points from Gryffindor, and give you a night of detention, Mr. Potter, to be served on your next free evening.”
The muttering in the classroom fell silent. Harry only shrugged.
“Have I made myself clear, Mr. Potter?” Her voice trembled slightly and her owlish eyes blinked away some moist.
She’s cracking up, Harry thought. In spite of his anger and annoyance, he pitied her. Slowly, he nodded. “Yes, Professor.” He cast his eyes down, unable to stand her any longer, lest his pity would turn into contempt.
“However, it’s my family’s tradition not to give in to the forces of destruction on the 15th of November. It was the dying day of my great-great-grandmother Cassandra, and I wouldn’t disgrace her memory by dealing with things as mundane as detention for an ungrateful student.”
Trelawney sighed dramatically and shrunk back into her former self. “My Inner Eye… There is too much anger and confusion in this classroom… Clouds everything.” She blinked once more, as if she was looking for help from an unexpected source.
“Professor?” Lavender Brown’s voice broke the silence. Trelawney turned to her, one of her favourite students. “May I show you something in my cup, Professor? I’m not sure whether this pattern signifies the illness of a family member in the near future or if it’s a reference to something that has already happened in the past.”
“Ah, Miss Brown.” Trelawney stepped over to Lavender’s table and examined the offered cup, sparing Harry of another lecture about his unwillingness to co-operate with the forces of foretelling the future.
Harry stared into the black mess at the bottom of his cup. Fire, water, confusion and, of course, death. He sighed and shook his head. She was crazy as a bat in a lightening-struck owlery, that one, predicting his death every other week. He clearly had more important assignments waiting for him to be solved. The first task was about to take place next week and he had no idea what awaited him, none at all. With a sneer on his face that could equal Malfoy’s, Harry poured some water into his cup, swirled the ugly mess around and emptied the contents into the waste bucket with a loud splash.
Category: genfic
Era: Harry Potter’s fourth year
Main Characters: Harry Potter, Sybill Trelawney
Ship(s): none
Keywords: Divination
Summary: Professor Trelawney makes another prediction and Harry Potter refuses to see into his future.
Author's notes: A grading ficlet for fourth_rose, after a call for prompts on the 19th December 2006. Sorry that this is so late! *blushes* Beta-read by jaelle_n_gilla and nohwrah. Thank you both for your wonderful work. You rock! Any remaining mistakes are mine.
Word count: 655
Concrit is always welcome!
What Is Hidden, What Is Known
“Harry Potter!” With a grand gesture, Professor Trelawney slung one of her shawls around her neck and almost strangled herself in the process. “I don’t know how you dare to continuously refuse to see what is about to become true. Especially after endangering yourself by enrolling in that perilous Tournament.”
“I didn’t enroll,” protested Harry, only to hear Ron snorting with contempt from across the room. Wonderful! Now Ron had another source to fuel his anger with Harry for being a participant of the Triwizard Tournament.
“There!” she screeched and pointed into his cup. Her numerous bracelets tinkled. “Take a look and see what is spelled out right before your eyes! Do you see that curl over there? And that swirl here? There will be fire and water and confusion. See how they all spin together towards that black dot in the middle? You will have to find your way through the darkness and at the end - death is waiting!” Trelawney’s voice rose another pitch.
Harry refused to take another look at the contents of his cup and continued to glare at his Divination teacher instead. His lips were pressed together in a tight line.
She moved her gaze from the cup into his face. “You aren’t looking…” Her voice hung in the air as if she had lost track of her speech.
“No, Professor.”
“You aren’t even trying.” She paused again, and this time, Harry didn’t confirm her statement.
“This is… I will not…” She suddenly pulled herself up to her full height, arranging her shawls to arch in an elegant array of bows around her shoulders. “I will not be made a fool of by one of my students. I could take twenty points from Gryffindor, and give you a night of detention, Mr. Potter, to be served on your next free evening.”
The muttering in the classroom fell silent. Harry only shrugged.
“Have I made myself clear, Mr. Potter?” Her voice trembled slightly and her owlish eyes blinked away some moist.
She’s cracking up, Harry thought. In spite of his anger and annoyance, he pitied her. Slowly, he nodded. “Yes, Professor.” He cast his eyes down, unable to stand her any longer, lest his pity would turn into contempt.
“However, it’s my family’s tradition not to give in to the forces of destruction on the 15th of November. It was the dying day of my great-great-grandmother Cassandra, and I wouldn’t disgrace her memory by dealing with things as mundane as detention for an ungrateful student.”
Trelawney sighed dramatically and shrunk back into her former self. “My Inner Eye… There is too much anger and confusion in this classroom… Clouds everything.” She blinked once more, as if she was looking for help from an unexpected source.
“Professor?” Lavender Brown’s voice broke the silence. Trelawney turned to her, one of her favourite students. “May I show you something in my cup, Professor? I’m not sure whether this pattern signifies the illness of a family member in the near future or if it’s a reference to something that has already happened in the past.”
“Ah, Miss Brown.” Trelawney stepped over to Lavender’s table and examined the offered cup, sparing Harry of another lecture about his unwillingness to co-operate with the forces of foretelling the future.
Harry stared into the black mess at the bottom of his cup. Fire, water, confusion and, of course, death. He sighed and shook his head. She was crazy as a bat in a lightening-struck owlery, that one, predicting his death every other week. He clearly had more important assignments waiting for him to be solved. The first task was about to take place next week and he had no idea what awaited him, none at all. With a sneer on his face that could equal Malfoy’s, Harry poured some water into his cup, swirled the ugly mess around and emptied the contents into the waste bucket with a loud splash.