weddingnovel Chapter 528 529: Sean’s Inner Eye
Chapter 528 529: Sean’s Inner Eye
Professor Trelawney began instructing the class to refill their teacups. For the
first time, Sean didn't follow a teacher's directions. Instead, he sat in
silence, mentally chewing over Trelawney's words.
A true prophecy foretells an approaching destiny. In the story of this world,
fate was the invisible thread running through everything. It had all started
with that one famous prophecy—delivered by the very woman standing before him.
An unaccepted ending... a deviation from the established track...
Sean's hand trembled slightly as he held his cup. While the other students were
busy noisily gulping down their tea, a well-preserved photograph drifted out of
Sean's black dragon-hide bag.
He gazed at it. As he watched, the image began to fade.
Headmaster Dumbledore's grey eyes stopped twinkling; Professor Snape's cold
features lost their sharpness; Lupin, holding a goblet filled with red liquid
that contrasted with his sickly pale face, began to blur.
The prophecy said the ending would be rewritten. But at what cost?
Sean tucked the photo away.
Most of the students had finished their tea now. Following Trelawney's
instructions, they swirled the dregs three times, drained the remaining liquid,
and swapped cups with their partners.
"Look closely now..." Trelawney whispered, her voice sounding as though she were
in a trance. She drifted toward Ron and Harry's table.
"Right then," Ron said, feeling the pressure of her presence. He hurriedly
flipped his copy of Unfogging the Future to pages five and six. "What can you
see in mine?"
"A load of soggy brown stuff," Harry replied. The thick, sweet incense in the
room was making his head feel heavy and his eyelids droop. But with Trelawney
looming over them, sleep was out of the question.
"Broaden your minds, my dears! Allow your vision to pierce the veil of the
mundane!" Trelawney's voice echoed through the dim, stifling attic.
Harry jumped. Across the room, other students were shivering as they squinted
into their cups. Sean noticed that Neville had already managed to smash his
third teacup of the lesson.
Harry forced himself to focus. "Right... there's a wonky sort of cross in
yours..." He consulted the book. "That means 'trials and suffering'—sorry about
that. But wait, there's something that looks like a sun. That means 'great
happiness.' So... you're going to suffer, but you'll be very happy about it?"
"They're talking absolute rubbish," Hermione whispered to Sean. She seemed
particularly irritated by Trelawney's dramatic entrance and "fainting" spell.
"I've seen dozens of frauds like this back in London, usually set up in shops
next to my dad's dental surgery."
"Perhaps," Sean agreed softly.
"Blimey, Harry, how can I be miserable and happy at the same time?" Ron grinned.
"I think your Inner Eye needs a pair of glasses." Trelawney shot them a sharp
look, and they both fought to suppress their snickering.
"My turn..." Ron peered into Harry's cup, his brow furrowing with the effort of
concentration. "This bit looks like a bowler hat. Maybe you're going to get a
job at the Ministry..." He rotated the cup ninety degrees. "But from this angle,
it looks more like an acorn. What's that? 'An unexpected windfall. Gold from an
unknown source.' Brilliant! You can lend me some. And there's something else..."
He turned the cup again. "Looks like an animal. A hippo? No... maybe a sheep..."
"They can't tell a hippo from a hat," Hermione hissed, slamming her book onto
the table. "Sean, surely you don't believe any of this?"
"Mmm... but perhaps Ron is right," Sean replied.
Sean knew Ron was right. Completely right. In the future, Harry would indeed
become the Head of the Auror Office at the Ministry. And the "windfall"? Sean
knew Sirius was already making arrangements to send the Firebolt.
Perhaps Ron is the one with the real talent for Divination, Sean mused.
"Sean... you're being very strange today," Hermione muttered, eyeing him with
concern. "Her nonsense is starting to rub off on you."
On the other side of the table, Harry shared Hermione's skepticism. He let out a
derisive snort at Ron's interpretation, but he went silent when Professor
Trelawney suddenly spun around.
"Let me see, dear," she said to Ron, her voice thin and disapproving. She
snatched Harry's cup from his hand.
the class went silent. Trelawney peered into the cup, rotating it slowly
counter-clockwise.
"The falcon... my dear, you have a deadly enemy."
"Everyone knows that," Hermione said, loud enough for the whole room to hear.
Trelawney narrowed her eyes at her.
"Well, it's true," Hermione pressed on. "Everyone knows about Harry and
You-Know-Who."
Harry and Ron stared at her with a mix of shock and admiration. They had never
heard Hermione speak to a teacher like that.
Trelawney didn't dignify the comment with a response. She lowered her huge,
bug-like eyes back to the cup and continued to rotate it.
"The club... an attack. Oh, dear, dear... this is not a happy cup at all..."
The Whomping Willow? Sean wondered if he was overthinking it. But his Centaur
teacher had taught him that in the magic of the stars and the mind, there were
no coincidences.
"I thought it was a bowler hat," Ron muttered sheepishly.
"The skull... danger in your path, my poor child..."
The class watched, breathless, as Trelawney gave the cup one final turn. She let
out a sharp gasp and screamed.
CRACK.
Neville had dropped his saucer.
Trelawney sank into a vacant armchair, clutching her heart with a glittering,
ring-covered hand. She closed her eyes. "My dear boy—my poor, dear boy—no—it is
better left unspoken—do not ask me..."
"What is it, Professor?" Dean Thomas asked urgently.
Everyone stood up, huddling around Harry and Ron's table, pressing close to
Trelawney's chair to see into the cup.
"My dear," Trelawney whispered, her eyes snapping open. "You have the Grim."
"The what?" Harry asked.
He could see he wasn't the only one confused. Dean Thomas shrugged at him, and
Lavender Brown looked puzzled. But the rest of the class looked horrified, many
of them covering their mouths with their hands.
"The Grim, my dear, the Grim!" Trelawney cried, looking shocked that Harry
didn't understand. "The giant, spectral dog that haunts churchyards! It is an
omen—the worst of omens—an omen of death!"
Harry's stomach performed a sick lurch. He thought of the dog on the cover of
the book in Flourish and Blotts. Lavender Brown let out a small whimper.
Every eye in the room was fixed on Harry—except for Hermione's. She had walked
around the back of Trelawney's chair to look into the cup for herself.
"I don't think it looks like a Grim at all," she said flatly.
Trelawney looked at Hermione, her dislike for the girl visibly increasing.
"Forgive me for saying so, dear, but I see very little aura around you. Very
little receptivity to the resonances of the future."
Seamus Finnigan, standing behind them, tilted his head from side to side. "It
looks like a Grim if you squint," he said, his eyes nearly closed. "But from
over here, it looks more like a donkey."
"When are you lot going to decide whether I'm going to die or not?!" Harry
blurted out. He surprised even himself with the outburst.
Suddenly, no one wanted to meet his eyes. Harry looked around desperately,
hoping for someone to say something—anything—sensible.
"Divination is an imprecise art..."
The voice came from the corner of the room. Hermione looked relieved to hear
Sean finally speak up.
"What?" Harry's voice was hoarse.
"Everyone dies eventually, Harry," Sean said with a rare, dry wit.
"Oh. Well, there's that," Harry said, feeling his soul finally return to his
body.
The rest of the class didn't look nearly as reassured. Trelawney had made at
least one accurate "prediction" regarding Neville's clumsiness, and the
atmosphere in the room remained thick with dread.
"Child... why did I not notice you before?"
Trelawney turned her magnifying-lens gaze onto Sean. "You have studied this...
no, your teacher... a wizard who is not a wizard..."
"What on earth is a 'wizard who isn't a wizard'?" Hermione demanded. She had
officially had enough of the riddles.
"Hermione..." Sean calmed her with a look. "Before I attended this class, my
first Divination teacher told me that nothing in the universe is infallible.
Even the grand trajectories of the celestial bodies possess a margin of error
when observed from the ground. Therefore, the mantic arts are, by nature,
imprecise."
Like the 'Grim' just now, Sean thought. Did Harry have a Grim? Perhaps. Harry
would eventually choose to face death. In a literal sense, he would even die
once. But the magic was blurry. It was like the Centaur's original prophecy:
that Harry would die in the Forest. The Centaur had assumed it meant "now," not
five years in the future.
"You had another Divination teacher?" Hermione asked, her eyes wide with shock.
She couldn't believe Sean had wasted his time on this subject twice.
"A Centaur teacher," Sean whispered. "He asked me not to use his name."
"A Centaur?! How did Dumbledore ever allow you in the Forbidden Forest—"
Hermione stopped herself. She knew the "Teaching Assistant" role gave Sean far
too much freedom in those woods.
"Oh... Mr. Green... come closer..."
Trelawney's voice suddenly shifted. She stared at Sean with an intensity that
made the other students back away.
"I didn't see you... I must have been in a trance. Look!" She pointed a
trembling finger at Sean's forehead, her voice rising several octaves. "Your
Inner Eye... it is beginning to open. A talent reserved for the very few!
"I think we shall end our lesson there for today," she said in a dreamlike,
muffled tone. "Yes... I have found him. The rest of you, pack your things."
Sean sat in thought, pondering Trelawney's second, sudden prediction. The other
students silently returned their cups, packed their bags, and headed for the
exit.
"What's an 'Inner Eye'?" Ron asked, leaning over Sean.
Because Hermione was standing between them, it looked like Ron was asking her.
"NO. IDEA."
Hermione marched down the silver ladder.
"Until we meet again," Trelawney called out after them, her voice weak. "Good
luck to you all. Oh, and dear—" she pointed at Neville. "You will be late for
your next class, so do try to work twice as hard to catch up."
The students descended the spiral staircase in silence, heading for McGonagall's
Transfiguration class. Sean trailed behind the group, a few paces behind the
stomping Hermione.
"Don't tell me you actually believe her..." Hermione said, biting her lip.
"Prophecy is an imprecise magic," Sean repeated with a small smile.
Hermione let out a huff and entered the classroom. Sean took a seat near the
back. He saw Harry, two seats away, looking incredibly tense. The rest of the
class kept stealing glances at him, as if they expected him to drop dead in the
middle of the lecture.
Professor McGonagall began the lesson with a demonstration of the Animagus
transformation. Sean watched with intense focus, but Harry didn't seem to see
her at all. McGonagall transformed into a tabby cat with markings around her
eyes that resembled her spectacles.
"Honestly, what has come over you all today?" McGonagall asked, transforming
back into her human form. "Not that it matters, but that is the first time my
transformation has failed to earn a round of applause from the class."
Everyone turned to look at Harry, then at Sean. No one said a word.
Hermione finally raised her hand. "Professor, we've just had our first
Divination lesson. We were reading tea leaves, and—"
"Ah, I see," McGonagall said, her brow furrowing. "Say no more, Miss Granger.
Tell me, which of you is supposed to be dying this year?"
The class stared at her in shock. Then, their eyes drifted back to Harry and
Sean.
Watching Harry was easy—he was the one with the Grim. But Sean? The students
were staring at Sean's forehead, wondering if a third eye was about to sprout
through his skin.
McGonagall cast a look of pity at Harry. But when she saw the students turn
their gaze to Sean, her face suddenly went completely blank.
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