Chapter Nine.
Breakfast in the Great Hall on the first day of term was as rowdy as usual, and made Harry feel better about his failure to practice Occlumency. He had woken in the early morning, and lain in his four poster bed trying to clear his mind, but the rumbling snores of his roommates had been a continual distraction. Eventually, fed up with the noise, he had thrown his pillow at Ron, waking him, and the two boys had gone down to breakfast. Hermione was already there, picking at a piece of toast and anxiously awaiting their new timetables. There were dark rings under her eyes.
“Is that all you’re eating?” asked Ron bluntly.
“I’m not really hungry,” said Hermione.
“Yeah, that teaspoon of trifle you had last night must have really filled you up,” said Ron sarcastically. He shot Harry a worried glance and began to load a plate up with bacon and eggs. “D’you want any black pudding?” he asked, shoving the plate in front of Hermione. “Hey! Colin! Pass us up some of that, will you?”
“I really don’t want any, thanks,” said Hermione tiredly. “Ron! I’m serious! Don’t wave that stuff at me. I said I’m not hungry.”
“If he’s not careful, he’s going to start sounding like Mum,” said Ginny, plopping down on the bench beside them. She stuck her tongue out at her brother. “Mind your own business, Ron.”
“Easy for you to say,” said Ron calmly, tipping half the basin of black pudding onto a plate of his own. “You’ve got OWLS this year; you won’t have time to be nosy.”
Ginny made a face. “Don’t remind me. I’ve already had the lecture from Mum and Dad. No wasting time, no skiving off...” she grinned at them in a manner eerily reminiscent of Fred and George. “Honestly. As if I would.”
Ron snorted disbelievingly, and reached for the kippers. Harry also began to eat, feeling the noise of the Great Hall wash over him, relaxing him. As quiet as the ride on the Hogwarts Express had been, it seemed as though the students were now reverting to their usual selves, and the atmosphere had lightened a bit. Even the teachers seemed unworried, calming buttering toast and chatting together. He noticed that Snape, however, kept glancing over at the Gryffindor table with a smirk of satisfaction, as if waiting for something both pleasurable and expected. Harry glared at him, but the Potions professor seemed not to pay him any attention.
It wasn’t long before the timetables started wending their way down the table. Harry shuffled through them, looking for his own schedule, and flipping Ron’s at him when he came to it. Finding his own, he looked at it and felt his stomach drop. He scowled.
“Anything wrong, Harry?”
“Nothing important,” he said dismally. “It’s just I’ve got Divination with Trelawney this afternoon. Look at this,” he thrust his timetable towards Ron. “Transfiguration after breakfast, then nothing until after lunch, then double Care of Magical Creatures, then Divination. In the tower. That means Trelawney “ and on a Monday, too! It’s not fair.”
“Well Harry, you did ask for it, you know,” said Hermione briskly, nibbling at a piece of bacon. She had cheered up when the timetables had come around. Ron shot him a sympathetic glance.
“Cheer up mate. It’s not until this afternoon, anyway.” He lowered his voice a little and leaned in towards Harry. “Perhaps a Puking Pastille...”
“I heard that,” snapped Hermione.
“Alright, alright,” said Ron hastily. “It was just a thought. But I’ll see you this afternoon, I guess. I’ve got double Muggle Studies, then a free period, then Magical Creatures, and then I’m done for the day.” He started in on some baked beans.
“Monday’s a good day for once. Course, that depends on how Muggle Studies turns out.” He looked at them both anxiously. “I wish one of you was taking it. All I know about Muggles is what I’ve picked up from Dad.”
“You needn’t worry,” said Ginny conversationally. “Dean’s taking it too, and he’s Muggle-born. You can get him to explain it to you.”
“Really? That’s brilliant!” Ron’s face brightened for a moment, and then he scowled at his sister. “And how d’you know what Dean’s taking then?” he asked aggressively.
“Well, he is my boyfriend,” Ginny answered brightly. “We do actually talk to each other. From time to time,” she added sweetly.
“You need to remember what Mum and Dad said,” said Ron grumpily. “What was it? No wasting time, no skiving off? You should be studying, not carrying on like some... like some-”
“Give it a rest, will you?” said Ginny. “Forget Mum, you’re beginning to sound like Percy.” And she flounced out of the Great Hall, leaving Ron looking decidedly horrified. He turned to Harry and Hermione.
“I don’t, do I?” At their awkward silence, he visibly deflated. “No. Oh, no.”
“Look, it’s alright,” said Harry quickly. “Dean’s not a bad sort, after all. You get along with him, remember?”
“Yeah, I suppose,” said Ron slowly, then began to look more cheerful. “Besides, I can always hex him if things don’t turn out, can’t I?” Harry decided that it was wisest to try and change the subject.
“What’s your day like, Hermione?”
“Oh, not too bad,” she said. “I’ve got Transfiguration first, of course. Then double Ancient Runes; and after lunch there’s double Arithmancy and History of Magic.” She considered briefly. “Actually, I think I’m going to like Mondays.” Over his beans, Ron made a noise of strangled disbelief. Hermione glared at him, and he was saved from having to explain himself by Neville, who was wandering along the Gryffindor table looking for his own timetable. Ron shuffled through a pile of them and handed one over to him.
“Here you go, Neville. I knew I’d seen yours in here somewhere.”
“Thanks,” said Neville, glancing at his schedule. He seemed to choke, and turned the colour of a ripe tomato. Ron reached up and whacked him on the back in concern. Neville whimpered and sank onto the bench, glancing pitifully up at the teacher’s table. Following his gaze, Harry noticed that Snape was making his way down to the Gryffindor table, smirking in satisfaction. He snatched at Neville’s timetable.
“Neville,” he said carefully, looking up to see Hermione try and force pumpkin juice down his friend’s throat, “I thought you weren’t taking Potions this year.”
“I’m not,” squeaked Neville. “There must be some kind of mistake.”
At that moment, Snape had stalked up to them. “No mistake, Longbottom,” he said silkily. “You can’t expect me to give up one of my best students, can you? An ‘O’ on your OWL, wasn’t it? How...extraordinary that you never showed such talent in class.”
Neville’s face turned bright pink. “I didn’t cheat, if that’s what you’re saying!”
“Indeed.” Snape sneered at him. “I took the liberty of sending an owl to your grandmother yesterday morning, explaining to her the wastefulness of your decision. She very wisely agreed with me that you should not be allowed to drop such an important subject, one in which you had done so well.” His sneer deepened. “It is her wish that you replace Astronomy with Potions for the coming year.”
“You can’t do that!” Hermione interrupted in amazement.
“I don’t believe anybody asked for your opinion, Miss Granger,” said Snape dangerously. “As Longbottom here is not yet of age his grandmother has every legal right to make the decisions that affect him; such as his schooling, for instance.” He peered closely at Neville. “Either you have considerably more talent in making Potions than anybody could ever expect, or you have found a way to cheat in the exams. Either way, boy, I expect to find out.” He smiled sinisterly. “We shall see, won’t we?”
As he swept away Neville looked close to fainting. “It’s not fair,” he kept repeating. “I didn’t cheat. I didn’t.” Harry glared back up at the teacher’s table, where Snape had returned. He could see Lupin and McGonagall staring down at them with carefully blank expressions, although the twitch in the face of his House Mistress showed Harry just how annoyed she was. Lupin shrugged at him helplessly.
“He can’t do that,” said Ron. “Can he?”
“I think so,” said Hermione angrily. “He’s right about your grandmother Neville, at least I think so.”
“I think” interrupted Ron, “that he was very careful to wait until Neville had got on the train before talking to his gran. That way, he wouldn’t be around to object.”
“But I didn’t cheat,” Neville repeated blankly.
“We believe you,” said Harry firmly. “This is just Snape being Snape, right? You passed that exam on your own, so that means that you can keep passing. You just need confidence, okay?”
“I think I’m going to be sick,” moaned Neville. Harry looked at him helplessly. Ron was looking at their friend’s timetable.
“Look, it’s alright,” he said. “You don’t have Potions today anyway, just Care of Magical Creatures and History of Magic after lunch.” He whacked Neville on the back again. “Cool! That means you get the morning off.” Neville whimpered pathetically.
“Er... maybe you better go and lie down,” said Hermione uncertainly. “You don’t look very well, actually.”
“Come on, I’ll take you,” said Ron sympathetically. “I left my quill in the Tower anyway.” He shot Harry and Hermione a glum look as he shepherded Neville out of the Great Hall.
“I wonder what that was all about,” said Harry quietly, casting an evil look up at Snape. “He’s been waiting years to get rid of Neville.”
“I don’t know,” said Hermione thoughtfully. She pushed her plate away in disgust and gathered up her schoolbag. “Come on. I don’t really want to stay here anymore. We might as well get to Transfiguration.”
Harry followed her silently out of the hall, before another thought struck him. “I hope...I hope Ron’s going to be alright with this,” he said quietly.
“Why wouldn’t he be?” said Hermione, picking up on what was concerning him. “Neville’s not taking Transfiguration, is he? So he’s still not going to be an Auror.”
“I guess,” said Harry, feeling a twinge of relief.
“You can’t keep feeling guilty about it,” said Hermione sympathetically. “It’s not your fault.”
“Yeah,” said Harry. They arrived at McGonagall’s Transfiguration classroom, students milling about outside. Harry was surprised to see students from all the Houses waiting there, but realised that after OWLS, some sixth year classes would be smaller depending on who had the grades and inclination to continue with them. From the teachers’ point of view it must just be easier to combine those who chose to take their subjects into one group, but his heart sank when he saw that several members of Slytherin, including Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson, were also included.
“Look who’s here,” shrieked Pansy in a mock-thrilled tone. “Hogwarts’ newest couple! No hand-holding today, then?”
“Shut up, Parkinson,” said Harry, feeling his face go red. He glared at them both, and to his surprise Malfoy contented himself with simply smirking, rather than his usual snide remarks.
“Or what?” said Pansy nastily.
“Or Hermione will be forced to take points off you for performing magic in the corridors,” said a familiar voice. “You know, given that she’s a Prefect and you aren’t.” Seamus Finnegan edged his way out from the midst of the crowd, Parvati and Lavender behind him.
“I haven’t done any magic in the corridors,” snapped Pansy, but she looked suddenly uncertain.
“That’s not what I saw,” said Seamus innocently. Behind him, Parvati and Lavender smiled sweetly, and Pansy was saved from having to make a response by the arrival of Professor McGonagall, who swept them into the classroom abruptly. Harry snatched the opportunity to mutter his thanks to Seamus, who responded with a wink. “Well, she’s had a rough time of it, hasn’t she?” he said quietly, indicating Hermione. “Doesn’t need the hassle. Parkinson can go stick her head in a bucket, eh? Preferably one full of bubotuber pus...”
McGonagall rapped on her desk with her wand. “Attention, please. As this is your first class of the sixth year, I have an obligation to inform you of the changes that will be made to your schooling system this year. With the OWLS behind you, many of you have hopefully decided on some sort of career path, and thus your courses have become more specialised to your future interests. This means more mixing in the classes, as you can see here. Most of you will now have classes with members of all the Houses combined.”
“As senior students, you will find that more is expected of you this year. Those of you who think that you now have the license to relax your standards after the efforts of your OWL year are sadly mistaken.” A groan went up from most of the class, and McGonagall glared at them with a beady eye. “This year you will begin study for your NEWT level exams. You will not undertake them until the end of your seventh year, but believe me, most of you will need all the time to study that you can get.” She looked at them sternly.
“And as senior students, there will be some changes to your learning structure this year. Now that you are older, you should be prepared to take more responsibility for your own learning. In addition to your course work this year, you will be required to undertake a research project with a partner, to be handed in by Easter. You will find this to be the case in all your subjects. I expect each of you to notify me by the end of the week as to who your partner will be and the subject of your joint research. Are there any questions so far?”
Hermione raised her hand. “How long are these projects going to be?”
“A minimum of ten rolls of parchment,” McGonagall replied. A second groan echoed the room, more heartfelt than before. Harry leaned over to Hermione’s desk, catching her eye. She nodded quickly at him and he felt a burst of relief. If nothing else, working with her would ensure that he would do well in this project. Hermione simply wouldn’t let either of them get away with anything less.
“Professor?” came a voice from the back of the classroom. Harry craned his head around to see a girl whose name he didn’t know, but who he vaguely recognised as being from Ravenclaw. “When my brother was in sixth year, he went out for work experience. Do we get to do that?”
McGonagall sighed heavily. “That is still up for debate. For those of you who are unaware of this facet of your education, Hogwarts has a tradition of sending out the brighter, more responsible students for work experience in their chosen field after the Easter break. They remain at Hogwarts and floo to and from their assigned positions for several weeks. However, as you are all aware, circumstances this year mean that this tradition may in fact be cancelled.”
Harry leaned over to Hermione again. “I don’t remember Fred and George ever going on work experience,” he said, as quietly as possible.
“She said the responsible students, Harry,” Hermione hissed, trying not to move her lips. Harry nodded to himself. That made sense “ no teacher in their right mind would want to send Fred and George forth as a shining example of their school’s finest students. It was an interesting idea though, and he hoped that they would be able to continue the practice this year. He scowled to himself “ of course that would depend on Voldemort, which meant that it was as good as cancelled already. He was jolted out of his reverie when Hermione passed him a box of matchsticks. Hastily he took one and passed the box on.
“As for today’s lesson: you should all have your matchsticks by now,” said McGonagall. “If you recall, the first Transfiguration spell that you should have been taught in Hogwarts was that which Transfigured a matchstick into a needle. Kindly repeat the process.”
“This is what we’re being taught?” drawled a voice from the back of the classroom. “Any first year could do this.”
“If you feel that you are too advanced in the discipline of Transfiguration to need this class Mr. Malfoy,” came the cool voice of their teacher, “you may feel free to leave it. I do not tolerate interruptions.”
Harry smirked to himself. The thought of sharing classes with the Slytherins suddenly didn’t seem that bad. He looked down at the needle on his desk, remembering the first time he and Ron had tried to perform this spell. It had seemed impossible then, but they had both mastered it long ago. In that sense Malfoy was right, Harry conceded. Why were they going back to the beginning again?
“It is one thing to Transfigure a single object,” continued McGonagall. “It is quite another to be able to exert control over the Transfiguration; over the rate of change and the area of change. You can all switch a needle to a matchstick and back again with ease. What you need to learn is how to control that process. I want you all to try this spell again, but this time I want to concentrate on Transfiguring the head of the matchstick only. The incantation and wand movement are the same; the result depends upon your focus. Concentrate. Replace the head of the matchstick with the eye of the needle, but keep the matchstick shaft intact.”
Harry concentrated on his matchstick. He thought that it should be an easy spell to accomplish, remembering how, when he had first tried this spell five years ago, he had only been able to accomplish partial changes at first. He focused upon the matchstick and performed the spell, and the matchstick changed wholly into a needle. Harry looked around in frustration, and saw that much the same thing had happened to the other students. Lavender Brown was poking at her needle disconsolately, but it remained stubbornly whole. Out of habit, he looked over at Hermione’s desk and saw that she had managed to change the head of the matchstick into the eye of a needle, but that the shaft of the match, while still wooden, had turned a silvery colour. McGonagall hovered over her, and tapped the object, transforming it back into a matchstick.
“Try again, Miss Granger,” she advised. “You nearly had it. Focus upon the head of the match, try to control the spell. Again.” Hermione muttered, her wand waved, and her match transformed into a perfect hybrid. She smiled in relief, and Harry noticed that McGonagall had been watching her carefully, and had smiled in turn. He realised that their teacher must have had grave reservations about teaching Hermione to become an Animagus, and the fact that she was able to control her spells so easily must have been a great comfort. He stared at his needle sadly. If only he could say the same.
McGonagall kept them hard at it for the next hour, and by the end only a handful of the students “ Hermione and all of the Ravenclaws “ had managed to complete the spell successfully. The rest of them were told to practice the spell as homework, and McGonagall promised detention to any student rash enough to return to her class without being able to perform it. As the students began to file out of the classroom, Harry hung back. He signalled to Hermione that he would talk to her later about their project “ he had no idea what topic they could use, and was frankly prepared to agree to almost anything she came up with. Some moments later, he was alone in the classroom with McGonagall. Harry realised it was a long shot, but he had to try, and thankfully this way no-one else would know that he did it.
McGonagall eyed him quizzically. “What is it, Mr. Potter? I have a second year class arriving here directly, so if this is going to take more than a few minutes perhaps you would care to make an appointment?”
“Er... no thanks, Professor. It’ll just take a minute.” Harry shuffled his feet nervously, unsure of how to phrase his request. “It’s about Ron...”
“I see,” said his teacher neutrally. “I can imagine what this is about.”
“Isn’t there any way you could get him accepted into Potions?” Harry blurted. “He really wants to be an Auror, I don’t know if he told you, but-”
“I did give Mr. Weasley career advice last term, Potter,” said McGonagall. “He knew precisely what standard he had to obtain and he didn’t do it.”
“I didn’t either,” said Harry fairly. “But you bent the rules for me. And he did better than me in some subjects.” He looked at her pleadingly.
McGonagall sighed. “I’m sorry, Harry,” she said. “Truly I am. But you must understand that young Mr. Weasley failed to make the grade in two subjects. It doesn’t matter that he did better than you in Herbology, because Herbology is not a requirement for being an Auror. Transfiguration and Potions are. I realise that it may seem unfair that you can progress in this and he cannot, but the decision is made.”
“Yeah. I mean, I just thought...”
“There was no harm in your asking,” said McGonagall. “It was a kind thought on your part. Now, don’t you have another class to get to?”
“Actually, I’m free until after lunch, Professor.”
“Good. Have you got your matchstick? Go and practice with it then.”
I walked right into that one, Harry thought. He supposed he should do as she suggested. Who knew what other homework would be dumped on him today? He had learned from fifth year that leaving it all until the last minute wasn’t exactly the best way to go about things. Hermione, of course, had been telling him so for years, but he hadn’t paid any attention. At the door he halted.
“Professor?”
“Yes, Potter?” she said, sounding harassed.
“You won’t tell Ron I said anything, will you?”
“I don’t see what that would accomplish,” she said dryly.
“Right. Er... thanks.” Harry left and wandered back up to Gryffindor Tower. He tried practicing in his bedroom first, but Neville was there, staring at the ceiling, and Harry found his mute presence disturbing. The common room was empty, however, and Harry spent two solid hours practicing the Transfiguration spell. In the end, he was hungry and grumpy but decided he had definitely got the hang of it, having performed it successfully five times in a row. When his fellow Gryffindors started popping in and out during their lunch break, he went back up to the bedroom and hauled Neville down to lunch. Neville was still pale, but looked as if he could stomach food at this point.
Down in the Great Hall, Ron was enthusiastically planning his Muggle Studies project with Dean. Harry was pleased to see that Ron had indeed enjoyed his morning, but he was also surprised at his friend’s keenness to start a research project encompassing ten rolls of parchment.
“This project idea is bloody brilliant, Harry,” Ron said happily. “All we need to do is pick a part of Muggle life and compare it to how we do things in the wizarding world. Guess what we’re doing?” At Harry’s bemused expression, Ron went on “Sport! Dean’s got his obsession with football, right?” He stabbed at the air with his fork for emphasis. Harry couldn’t help but remember the West Ham poster that had stayed by Dean’s bed for the past five years, and his continual attempts to make Ron understand the game.
“But you don’t know anything about football, Ron” he pointed out.
“Yeah, I know,” grinned Ron. “But I do know about Quidditch.” He stuffed a whole ham sandwich in his mouth at once, and continued to speak around it. “Dean’s going to do the football side of it, and I’ll write about how it compares with Quidditch. Great, eh?”
Harry couldn’t help but agree. No wonder Ron was so happy “ he could go on forever about Quidditch, and this way he’d even get marks for it. Ten rolls of parchment would be no problem... It made him wonder what topic he’d have to do for Transfiguration. No matter what it was, it had to be mind-numbingly boring in comparison. He looked over at Hermione, who was absently eating her lunch in front of an Arithmancy textbook that was propped up against a jug of pumpkin juice.
“How was Ancient Runes?” he asked her. “Got a project sorted out?”
“No, actually,” she said. “I’ve paired up with Susan for it, but we haven’t decided anything yet.”
“Oh,” said Harry. “D’you have any idea what to do for McGonagall?”
Hermione gazed at him thoughtfully over the rim of her book. “Not really. I was hoping you might have some ideas.” At the look on his face, she shrugged. “Oh well. We’ve got until the end of the week to decide. We can talk about it tonight; see if we can come up with anything interesting.”
After lunch Harry, Ron and Neville trooped outside for their Care of Magical Creatures lesson. Harry was convinced that without Hagrid it would never be as interesting, but he had to admit to himself that at least it would be safe. Professor Grubbly-Plank might not demonstrate the most exciting animals, but at least there was no danger of having them tear off someone’s leg. He wondered where Hagrid had got to, and made a mental note to ask Lupin next time he saw him. He knew that the werewolf would be the one most likely to give him an honest answer.
Care of Magical Creatures was again a mixed class, and Harry was again disappointed to see a large Slytherin presence. Did Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson have to be in all his classes? Luckily, he didn’t have to stand near them. Professor Grubbly-Plank was demonstrating a form of tunnelling spider (“Nothing to worry about, it’s a vegetarian...”) and Ron had quickly moved to the back of the class. Harry and Neville stood with him, and they were joined by Susan Bones. The advantage of being at the back was that they could talk quietly amongst themselves without drawing much attention. Much of their talk was based around the projects, which were apparently more directed in this class. Grubbly-Plank had instructed each pair to pick a magical creature for an in-depth study. Ron had made his feelings very clear.
“No spiders, Harry. And no Blast-Ended-Bloody-Skrewts. Other than that, I don’t mind so much. But we’ve got to get in quick, you know. I don’t want to be left with the duds.”
Susan had been more conciliatory. Neville’s drafting into Potions had not escaped the notice of the other students, and she had volunteered to partner him in Magical Creatures. She had suggested the two of them study Bowtruckles, and Harry was impressed with her tact. Neville might not care about the thorny little creatures, but they inhabited wand trees, and their habitat would be a big part of the project. Anything even remotely connected with Herbology could calm him down, and he was even starting to get rather interested in the Bowtruckle research.
“Psst! Harry! I don’t want to do Flobberworms either. I know they’re not dangerous but they’re bloody boring. There’s got to be a middle ground in there somewhere...” Harry let his friend chunter on, trying half-heartedly to listen to the professor talk about the uses of the spider’s silk. As useful as it was, he didn’t think that he cared much for this animal either. It might be vegetarian, but it was the size of a saucer, and Harry didn’t fancy sticking his hand down its burrow to rip out half its house.
“Harry?” Susan asked quietly, while Grubbly-Plank was demonstrating how to distract the spider with a large piece of orange peel. “A lot of Hufflepuffs have been asking me. Are you going to start up the DA again this year?”
“I hadn’t really thought about it,” said Harry out of the corner of his mouth, trying to look like he was still paying attention. “Only really started it last year because Umbridge was so useless. Professor Lupin’s not like that.”
“No, he’s not. But with things the way they are, students are going to want to practice more,” commented Susan fairly. “And a lot of them trust you to know how to teach them.”
“I don’t know,” said Harry uncomfortably. “I’ll have to think about it. Talk to Hermione and Professor Lupin. Odds are they’ve already considered it.” He turned to Ron. “How about a Thestral?”
“How can I write about a creature I can’t even see?” hissed Ron. “What about a Niffler?”
“No good. I heard a couple of students telling Grubbly-Plank they wanted to do Nifflers. We have to pick something else.” As the class ended, there was practically a riot to get to the Professor. Apparently everyone else in class had come to the conclusion that all the interesting animals would go if they didn’t get there first. As Ron and Harry pushed into line, they were surprised to see Crabbe and Goyle, two burly Slytherins, forcibly push Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson out of place in the line, forcing them towards the back.
“Oho,” said Ron softly, smugly. “Looks like all is not well in the House of Slytherin...”
“Malfoy’s Dad has been chucked into Azkaban, hasn’t he?” said Harry. “Incompetence on that scale must make a lot of people very unhappy.”
“Not me,” said Ron happily, and Harry had to agree with him. Privately though, he determined to keep more of an eye on the workings of Slytherin House. He was still mulling over the new developments when they came in front of Professor Grubbly-Plank.
“Well?” she said. “Hurry up now. I don’t have all day. Which animal did you want to study?”
Harry looked desperately at Ron, who was staring in turn at the spider and weaving a little on his feet. He cast around desperately for an animal “ any animal. “Has anyone got Hippogriffs yet?” he asked stupidly, and was relieved to find that it was still open. If nothing else, he had access to Buckbeak. And it would keep Ron away from spiders. He hauled his friend away, and Ron looked at him, his skin a greenish tinge.
“What are we doing again?” he asked. Harry rolled his eyes and sent his friend up to Gryffindor Tower. He thought a lie-down would do Ron good, and he was positive that his friend’s appetite would be back by dinner. Some things never changed. That left him making his way miserably to Divination. Having to come from across the school lawn, he was last up to the Tower where Professor Trelawney presided.
It was embarrassing having to fumble his way across the incense-scented room in front of everyone; especially after he had tripped over a pouffe and sent a teapot flying. Trelawney peered at him in morbid sympathy, and continued with the speech he had just interrupted.
“...Divination, my dears, is an art which can be taught at any age. You cannot learn it from books; you may only nurture the talent with which you have been blessed.” Harry choked on the smoke, and discreetly tried to open a window. “Some of you,” continued Trelawney dreamily, “have been here before. For others, studying the art of Divination is a new experience. This matters not if you have the talent, and the ability to persevere.” She gazed at Harry mistily, and trying to avoid meeting her eyes, he glanced around the room. What he saw made his heart drop.
Students were scattered in pairs around the circular room, and he was the only one by himself. Trelawney swooped down upon him. “Do not worry, my dear,” she fluttered, “There is sometimes an odd person out. You may still do the research project. That is what is upsetting you, yes? I’m sure you can manage on your own, and if you need a partner in the class exercises, then I am more than happy to offer my services...”
Harry smiled at her weakly, and shuddered.