This time, even the most superstitious students could tell something was wrong.
A Beauxbatons girl raised her hand gracefully and posed a devastating question in her heavily French-accented English.
"Professor, should we go and look at the flowers or not?"
"Professor, could you make another prophecy? Perhaps we could compare them."
"Yes, Professor, this prophecy is too vague. What if we misunderstand it?"
The atmosphere in the classroom began to shift subtly.
Whispers swelled like a rising tide.
"What is she babbling about?"
"That isn't a prophecy at all. It's just nonsense."
"I told you Divination was a fraud."
The voices of doubt grew louder and more grating.
Those eyes, previously filled with admiration and anticipation, now held scrutiny and impatience.
The otherworldly expression on Trelawney's face began to crack.
Her eyes, magnified by her thick lenses, suddenly widened.
That was not the gaze of someone who saw the secrets of fate.
It was a look of offended, wounded astonishment.
She sprang to her feet, the strings of beads on her body jangling wildly.
"Enough!"
"Ignorant! Foolish!"
Her voice lost its carefully cultivated ethereal quality and turned shrill and hoarse.
"You understand nothing! You aren't worthy of hearing the voices from beyond!"
"You don't even care!"
She pointed at the roomful of students, her finger trembling slightly with anger.
"You don't believe in the power of the Inner Eye! You have no respect for this ancient and sacred art!"
Blood rushed to her head, bringing two unnatural patches of red to her pale face.
"You just want a performance!"
"A cheap trick to satisfy your desire for personal gain!"
"What do you take me for? A street performer who spits out colored balls?!"
Like an enraged, scrawny hen, she paced furiously around her own nest.
"You don't want prophecies! All