The soft chiming of the Hogwarts clocks echoed through the corridors as Cela, Hermione, Harry, and Ron made their way inside the Divination classroom on the top floor.
Cela had heard Hermione grumble quietly on the way up. "Honestly, I don't know why anyone takes Divination seriously. It's mostly vague guesses and theatrics."
Cela glanced at her friend with a mischievous smile. "Vague guesses can still be fascinating, Hermione. Besides, we're third-years now. If anyone can make sense of it, it's you."
Hermione rolled her eyes, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. Harry and Ron were walking ahead, the former glancing nervously toward the windows as if expecting to see something ominous. Ron, on the other hand, was chattering quietly about Quidditch, entirely oblivious to the growing tension in the castle.
The Divination classroom itself was just as Cela had imagined it: circular, elevated slightly at the center where Professor Trelawney's chair sat, surrounded by mismatched tables and a faint haze of incense. Crystals glimmered faintly, and the walls were adorned with tapestries depicting strange, twisting symbols. The air was heavy, fragrant with dried herbs and the faint tang of magic.
Professor Sybill Trelawney, tall and imposing with her large, misty eyes, greeted the students in her slow, melodic voice. Her robes were layers of gauzy fabric that seemed to float as she moved, and her shawl was dotted with strange, twinkling charms. "Welcome, third-years," she said, her eyes flickering with some unseen knowledge. "Today, we shall explore deeper visions, omens, and the portents of destiny. You will see things you might not wish to see. You will feel things you cannot yet comprehend."
Cela's pulse quickened. She was drawn to the weight in Trelawney's words, but she also felt a twinge of apprehension. Hermione, noticing her unease, gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Don't worry, Cela," she whispered softly. "We're here together. Nothing's going to hurt us."
The class settled into quiet murmurs as Trelawney began to pace slowly, glancing at each student in turn. Her large eyes seemed to pierce directly into Cela's soul when she stopped near her table. "Ah… you," she said in a voice both musical and chilling. "Yes… yes, you have… a connection… a connection to death. The shadows of your family… they linger around you. I see… loss… grief… foreboding. Many of those who love you have passed, and yet… there is power in that knowledge."
Cela stiffened, her eyes widening. She knew too well the truths behind the veiled prophecy in Trelawney's words. Her mother had died when she was very young, a wound that never truly healed. Her heart raced, and a shiver ran down her spine. She glanced at Hermione, whose expression had softened, but her eyes were steady and calm.Hermione reached out, taking Cela's hand again, offering a lifeline amidst the storm of unease.
Hermione leaned toward Cela and whispered,"For those of us taking Divination for the first time… well, I've heard from older students that Professor Trelawney mostly talks nonsense. She tends to exaggerate, show off, or make herself seem mysterious—especially to third-years who are just starting this class. Don't take everything she says too seriously."
Professor Trelawney's voice continued, softer now, almost like a murmur only Cela could hear. "You are sensitive… unusually sensitive… Your heart beats for those who have passed, for those who will face peril. But beware—such gifts can draw attention from darker forces…"
Cela's hand tightened around Hermione's. She felt the pressure of the classroom, the incense, the strange crystal balls before them. And yet, there was something fascinating, almost mesmerizing, about the sense of connection that Trelawney hinted at.
Professor Trelawney moved toward Harry next, her hands trembling slightly as she peered into his tea cup. Her eyes widened as if a chill had passed over her. "Ah… you, Harry Potter… the one who has glimpsed darkness no child should ever see… The dog—the black dog! The Grim! Yes… I sense it. You have seen it before, in Little Whinging… danger… darkness… death. These omens trail you, boy. Take heed of them."
Harry shivered involuntarily, recalling the terrifying form he had seen that fateful night on Privet Drive. He felt his chest tighten, a mix of dread and incredulity. Hermione placed a protective hand on his arm, though her eyes were wide with unease. Ron whispered beside him, trying to lighten the mood. "It's just Trelawney being dramatic, mate. I heard She's always like this."
But Harry knew better. He had seen that dog. Felt it. And now Trelawney's piercing gaze made him feel like she could see not only what had happened but what might still come.
"Ah… yes… yes… you will know sorrow again," Trelawney intoned, her voice drifting in the dim light. "A shadow will linger near you… and those you love… pay heed to the Grim. It is not merely a vision… it is a warning."
Cela's eyes flicked between Harry and Hermione. Her heart tightened in empathy, for she could feel the weight of Trelawney's words. The Grim… it was a spectral omen of death. Harry's fear was palpable, but so was his courage. She marveled quietly at his composure, though she could sense the tension radiating from him.
Trelawney's gaze lingered a moment longer on Harry before she swept across the room, addressing the class as a whole. "The signs… the omens… the whispers of the past and future… they speak to those who are willing to listen. Pay attention to the messages in your dreams, the feelings that prick at your heart, the visions that do not fade. You will all find that each of you has a connection—some stronger than others—to what lies beyond. Some of you will see joy… some will see sorrow… but all will see truths hidden from mortal eyes."
Cela exhaled softly, a mix of relief and apprehension. She understood now why Divination had always been considered eerie by so many students, yet fascinating by others. It was the knowledge that magic could glimpse into the tapestry of fate itself—and that such glimpses were not always comforting.
Hermione leaned closer to Cela, her voice low and sharp with irritation. "This class is awful," she muttered. "Trelawney speaks in riddles as if she's some all-knowing oracle. Don't let it scare you. Merlin, I wish I had listened to Professor McGonagall when she said I'd be wasting my time here. And now that I see it… she was exactly right."
Cela smiled gently, squeezing Hermione's hand. "Seems Professor McGonagall must be quite fond of you—yesterday, she didn't even warn me about this class."
Hermione's lips curved into a smug little grin. "Well… some of us just get special treatment."
Professor Trelawney began to organize the class, bringing out crystal balls and charts. "Each of you will take turns peering into the crystal," she instructed, her eyes glittering with anticipation. "Do not rush. Patience, focus… and listen to what you feel, not just what you see."
Cela took a deep breath and leaned over her crystal ball. The glassy orb caught the flickering candlelight, giving it an oddly theatrical glow. Hermione hovered nearby, arms crossed and clearly unimpressed.
"Let's see what this is all about," Cela said with a small grin, as her hands hovered above the orb.
Hermione muttered under her breath, "Honestly, this is a waste of time. None of this crystal-ball nonsense ever shows the truth."
Cela ignored her and peered into the depths of the orb. Slowly, shapes began to emerge—and she blinked in surprise. There she was, smiling brightly, holding a small vial of shimmering potion in her hand.
Hermione leaned closer, eyebrows raised. "What… what are you seeing?"
Cela's grin widened. "Well, I see myself holding a potion. Looks like I've just finished making something… very successful, I think."
Hermione rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn't get stuck. "If the first thing you see is a potion, then this crystal and all of these visions are definitely lying. Crystals apparently just show what you want, not what's real. I mean, really—how can anyone take this seriously?"
Cela giggled. "So, basically, this crystal knows me too well. I just hope it predicts a potion that actually gives me more free time!"
Hermione snorted. "If it does, I'll believe in crystal balls too. Until then, it's all smoke, mirrors, and glitter."
Harry's turn came soon after, and he approached the crystal ball with a grim determination. The black dog he had glimpsed in Little Whinging appeared faintly in the glass, and he felt a cold chill run down his spine. Trelawney's voice, soft yet insistent, reached him. "You see it… you know it… the Grim watches over the one who must face sorrow. Pay heed, Potter, for danger is closer than you think."
Ron muttered under his breath, "I swear, this is worse than any monster I have seen before ."
Cela watched them, amazed at the intensity of the classroom, the interplay of fear, knowledge, and magical perception. She realized how intertwined their destinies had become, each of them responding to the ominous visions in their own way, yet supported by friendship and loyalty.
As the class progressed, students tentatively explored their own visions. Cela remained close to Hermione, who guided her through interpreting subtle shapes, colors, and feelings. She felt a thrill with each small revelation, a sense of wonder mingled with trepidation. Even the strange foreboding she had felt earlier seemed to transform into curiosity—an eagerness to understand the threads of magic that connected them all.
By the end of the class, Cela felt both drained and exhilarated. Her connection to the crystal ball had revealed glimpses of the unknown that she hoped to be true but Hermione thought otherwise.