1 fic - challenge #91, "brittany".
Title: Divination
Rating/Warnings: PG
Characters/Pairing: No pairings; features Harry, Ron, and Professor Trelawney.
Summary: Divination class gets a little out of hand.
Word Count: 1,037
Author's Notes: Based off the phrase "I'm more talented than all of you. I see that clearly now." from April's "Brittany" challenge.
Registered purchases?: Both registered.
Harry isn’t quite sure why he bothers to continue with Divination lessons.
Divination, he’s learned over the years, could very well be a legitimate art form. He can still remember his first Divination exam back at the end of third year. He still recalls all too well the way Professor Trelawney’s voice turned cold and harsh, the way she correctly predicted Wormtail’s return and escape without ever seeming to remember she’d done it. Trelawney was an oddball, that much was obvious, but he doesn’t think she’d make up something like that. All her other predictions sound different - she sounds almost excited when she predicts his death. He has to assume she honestly does possess the Sight, if only in limited amounts. But that is the problem - either one has the Sight, or they don’t, and years of study can’t do a thing about it. After years of lying, inventing, copying, and pulling answers out of thin air, Harry has come to the conclusion that the Sight has escaped both himself and Ron. And yet here they are, holed up in the stifling-hot tower room again, peering into teacups and trying to predict their futures (or their untimely demises, if Trelawney had it her way).
“This is rubbish,” Harry mutters to Ron as he swirls his teacup on one of the little tabletops. “We did this in third year. What, she thinks that if we didn’t learn it now, we’ll have shockingly picked it up somewhere along the way?”
“You’re too pessimistic, Harry,” Ron says cheerfully, reaching his pinky finger into his cup and prodding at the tea goop on the bottom. “You just have to get creative.”
“Clear your minds!” Professor Trelawney encourages, waving her arms wildly as she sweeps across the room. “Find your center and gaze openly upon your futures! Do not be afraid of what you seek!”
“See,” Ron continues, ignoring Trelawney as he tilts his cup for Harry to peer into. “My cup clearly has Lavender and me snogging in the Astronomy tower after class.”
Harry stares into the cup at the pile of tea leaves Ron has tried to manipulate. “You just moved these leaves however you wanted,” he accuses with a grin.
Ron nods and reaches for Harry’s cup, a determined look on his face. “Creativity,” he says proudly. “Here, let me do yours. I think I can see you pushing Myrtle into a toilet for a good laugh.”
“Ah, Harry Potter!” Trelawney’s voice is loud, right in his ear, and Harry jumps as he realizes she’s practically on top of him. She’s grinning expectantly at him, and he stares blankly back up at her.
“Pardon?”
“Your leaves,” she urges, gesturing to Ron’s cup in his hand. “What do you see?”
Everyone’s eyes are on him, waiting expectantly for him to answer, and Harry feels warm around the collar. Seamus and Dean snigger from the next table. He drops his gaze to Ron’s cup and stares at the guck, wracking his brain for symbols, shapes, anything that could possibly be interpreted out of the mush. Here was the biggest problem that Harry had with Divination: never, ever having a damn clue what to say.
“I see - er -“ he fumbles. Ron catches his eye and nods encouragingly, and now all Harry can think of are the silly predictions Ron mentioned earlier. “I see me snogging Lavender Brown in a broom cupboard.” He’s too embarrassed to raise his eyes from Ron’s for fear of seeing Lavender’s reaction. Ron is grinning, clearly highly entertained.
“Well,” Trelawney says, and Harry can tell that she’s at a loss. Dean and Seamus’ sniggering has gotten louder, and someone across the room is whispering. Probably Lavender, going off about what a git he is. Why did he repeat Ron’s joke?
“My cup has me drowning Moaning Myrtle in her bathroom!” Ron exclaims, thrusting his teacup under Professor Trelawney’s nose. “What do you suppose that means, Professor?”
“Oh,” she replies, flustered. There’s a little chuckle from Neville’s table, and when Harry dares to look up, all his classmates are giggling. They’re amused. “Mine’s got me and Seamus raising a pet dragon together,” Dean calls out. “You think it will call us both ‘Daddy’?”
“I’ve got myself here wearing six hundred dollar dress robes!” Parvati exclaims. “And diamond shoes! Do you think that means I’ll marry rich?”
Harry’s other classmates shout outlandish scenarios in Professor Trelawney’s direction amid peals of laughter. Even Neville gets into the spirit, looking thrilled to be in on the joke as he tells her that his cup depicts him and a row of mandrakes singing the Weird Sisters’ greatest hits. Trelawney’s head swivels frantically from one student to another, desperately trying to keep up with all the things being shouted at her. Her cheeks are pink and she’s flustered, her eyes wide. She’s lost total control of the class without a hope of gaining it back. And she knows it.
“Enough!” she finally screeches, her voice so strained and shaky that it effectively silences all the Gryffindors. “I will not have you all make a mockery of the fine art of Divination! Why should I bother helping you predict the dangers of your future if none of you take my teachings seriously? I do not have to stand for this! I’m more talented than all of you; I see that now! And I will not stay here and be further humiliated!”
And with that, Professor Trelawney gathers the bottom of her robes and hurries to the trapdoor. She flings it open and flees.
There’s a ringing silence in the class for all of five seconds, everyone stunned at their ability to actually drive a teacher out of her own classroom. And then the room erupts in laughter. Students high-five one another and pat each other on the back. Harry grins a little sheepishly at Ron.
“Perhaps we took it too far,” he says. He’d probably have to find Professor Trelawney later and apologize; he’d started the whole thing, after all.
Ron shrugs and goes back to prodding at the tea leaves in Harry’s cup. “If she didn’t want to hear about me committing ghosticide, she should have expelled us years ago.”
end.
POINTS:
1,037 words / 30 = 34.6 35
+ 10 points (purchases) =
45 POINTS FOR HUFFLPUFF!
Janna/Hufflepuff
Rating/Warnings: PG
Characters/Pairing: No pairings; features Harry, Ron, and Professor Trelawney.
Summary: Divination class gets a little out of hand.
Word Count: 1,037
Author's Notes: Based off the phrase "I'm more talented than all of you. I see that clearly now." from April's "Brittany" challenge.
Registered purchases?: Both registered.
Harry isn’t quite sure why he bothers to continue with Divination lessons.
Divination, he’s learned over the years, could very well be a legitimate art form. He can still remember his first Divination exam back at the end of third year. He still recalls all too well the way Professor Trelawney’s voice turned cold and harsh, the way she correctly predicted Wormtail’s return and escape without ever seeming to remember she’d done it. Trelawney was an oddball, that much was obvious, but he doesn’t think she’d make up something like that. All her other predictions sound different - she sounds almost excited when she predicts his death. He has to assume she honestly does possess the Sight, if only in limited amounts. But that is the problem - either one has the Sight, or they don’t, and years of study can’t do a thing about it. After years of lying, inventing, copying, and pulling answers out of thin air, Harry has come to the conclusion that the Sight has escaped both himself and Ron. And yet here they are, holed up in the stifling-hot tower room again, peering into teacups and trying to predict their futures (or their untimely demises, if Trelawney had it her way).
“This is rubbish,” Harry mutters to Ron as he swirls his teacup on one of the little tabletops. “We did this in third year. What, she thinks that if we didn’t learn it now, we’ll have shockingly picked it up somewhere along the way?”
“You’re too pessimistic, Harry,” Ron says cheerfully, reaching his pinky finger into his cup and prodding at the tea goop on the bottom. “You just have to get creative.”
“Clear your minds!” Professor Trelawney encourages, waving her arms wildly as she sweeps across the room. “Find your center and gaze openly upon your futures! Do not be afraid of what you seek!”
“See,” Ron continues, ignoring Trelawney as he tilts his cup for Harry to peer into. “My cup clearly has Lavender and me snogging in the Astronomy tower after class.”
Harry stares into the cup at the pile of tea leaves Ron has tried to manipulate. “You just moved these leaves however you wanted,” he accuses with a grin.
Ron nods and reaches for Harry’s cup, a determined look on his face. “Creativity,” he says proudly. “Here, let me do yours. I think I can see you pushing Myrtle into a toilet for a good laugh.”
“Ah, Harry Potter!” Trelawney’s voice is loud, right in his ear, and Harry jumps as he realizes she’s practically on top of him. She’s grinning expectantly at him, and he stares blankly back up at her.
“Pardon?”
“Your leaves,” she urges, gesturing to Ron’s cup in his hand. “What do you see?”
Everyone’s eyes are on him, waiting expectantly for him to answer, and Harry feels warm around the collar. Seamus and Dean snigger from the next table. He drops his gaze to Ron’s cup and stares at the guck, wracking his brain for symbols, shapes, anything that could possibly be interpreted out of the mush. Here was the biggest problem that Harry had with Divination: never, ever having a damn clue what to say.
“I see - er -“ he fumbles. Ron catches his eye and nods encouragingly, and now all Harry can think of are the silly predictions Ron mentioned earlier. “I see me snogging Lavender Brown in a broom cupboard.” He’s too embarrassed to raise his eyes from Ron’s for fear of seeing Lavender’s reaction. Ron is grinning, clearly highly entertained.
“Well,” Trelawney says, and Harry can tell that she’s at a loss. Dean and Seamus’ sniggering has gotten louder, and someone across the room is whispering. Probably Lavender, going off about what a git he is. Why did he repeat Ron’s joke?
“My cup has me drowning Moaning Myrtle in her bathroom!” Ron exclaims, thrusting his teacup under Professor Trelawney’s nose. “What do you suppose that means, Professor?”
“Oh,” she replies, flustered. There’s a little chuckle from Neville’s table, and when Harry dares to look up, all his classmates are giggling. They’re amused. “Mine’s got me and Seamus raising a pet dragon together,” Dean calls out. “You think it will call us both ‘Daddy’?”
“I’ve got myself here wearing six hundred dollar dress robes!” Parvati exclaims. “And diamond shoes! Do you think that means I’ll marry rich?”
Harry’s other classmates shout outlandish scenarios in Professor Trelawney’s direction amid peals of laughter. Even Neville gets into the spirit, looking thrilled to be in on the joke as he tells her that his cup depicts him and a row of mandrakes singing the Weird Sisters’ greatest hits. Trelawney’s head swivels frantically from one student to another, desperately trying to keep up with all the things being shouted at her. Her cheeks are pink and she’s flustered, her eyes wide. She’s lost total control of the class without a hope of gaining it back. And she knows it.
“Enough!” she finally screeches, her voice so strained and shaky that it effectively silences all the Gryffindors. “I will not have you all make a mockery of the fine art of Divination! Why should I bother helping you predict the dangers of your future if none of you take my teachings seriously? I do not have to stand for this! I’m more talented than all of you; I see that now! And I will not stay here and be further humiliated!”
And with that, Professor Trelawney gathers the bottom of her robes and hurries to the trapdoor. She flings it open and flees.
There’s a ringing silence in the class for all of five seconds, everyone stunned at their ability to actually drive a teacher out of her own classroom. And then the room erupts in laughter. Students high-five one another and pat each other on the back. Harry grins a little sheepishly at Ron.
“Perhaps we took it too far,” he says. He’d probably have to find Professor Trelawney later and apologize; he’d started the whole thing, after all.
Ron shrugs and goes back to prodding at the tea leaves in Harry’s cup. “If she didn’t want to hear about me committing ghosticide, she should have expelled us years ago.”
end.
POINTS:
1,037 words / 30 = 34.6 35
+ 10 points (purchases) =
45 POINTS FOR HUFFLPUFF!
Janna/Hufflepuff