Before long, the Divination Class classroom was full, with a clear divide among the students—
The ones just there to kill time had claimed the seats around the edges early on and soon lay sprawled across their desks, catching up on sleep; meanwhile, Trelawney's believers gathered excitedly around the professor.
No matter what kind of student they were, everyone could relax completely in the Divination Class classroom, which was especially precious in an O.W.L. year—perhaps that was why Trelawney's reputation among the students was not too bad.
Harry and Ron had settled into a corner, making up nonsense as they studied each other's palm lines.
"Look here, this fork in the line, Ron... it means that when you were seven, you encountered a major crisis. Uh... it was probably related to pumpkins?"
"Exactly! That was the year my mum tried to stuff me to death with pumpkin pie!"
Ron nodded solemnly, then "divined" Harry's future in turn. "Let me see... Oh, in an important exam coming up, you'll have a sudden flash of inspiration and get your best score ever—but only if you avoid all pickled herring at breakfast."
"Brilliant!" Harry said happily. "Hogwarts doesn't have pickled herring at all!"
They laughed so hard at each other's ridiculous "fates" that they nearly toppled over, but they did not dare make a sound. Covering their mouths, they shook all over with muffled snorts.
Suddenly, Harry tipped sideways and nearly fell out of his chair. He grabbed the table to steady himself, and his gaze happened to sweep across the other side of the classroom. By the heavy curtains sat a figure that seemed almost like a phantom.
The smile froze on Harry's face. He blinked, seeming to wonder if he had seen wrong.
He took off his glasses and rubbed his