ambitious, cunning, adaptable | hp x dm

chapter thirty five: divination

Harry walked into the library with a few books for Divination under his arm. He had been slacking off in the class. Half of it was boredom while the other half was Trelawney's complete inability to teach. He passed a few tables before spotting Hermione, Ron, and Neville at one and strode over to it.

"Wotcher, Ron."

Ron looked away from Hermione, his face taking on a perplexed expression before he nodded. "Oh nothing, we're just talking about how I'm marked for death."

"Care to explain, mate?"

"Sirius Black broke into Gryffindor Tower again. Attacked Ron with a knife." Hermione's face was grim.

"It isn't me!"

Ron snorted. "Spoken like a true Slytherin."

Harry beamed. "Thanks." Then he realized what he had said and frowned a bit. "Are you okay, Ron?"

"Luckily. I made it out of there by the skin of my nose." Ron shuddered hard and looked back to his books. "I just don't know why he'd attack me. I mean, no offense, I thought he'd be after you."

Harry nodded slowly. "Me too, to be honest. After all, he's a murderous Death Eater lunatic."

Neville heaved out a sigh and looked away. He looked paler than usual. "Can we not talk about this?"

Everyone at the table gave solemn nods and Harry idly flicked through the pages of his Divination textbook. They were all clearly trying to think of something to change the subject.

"Harry, you did really well in Potions today. Your Babbling Beverage was perfect."

Hermione's compliment was thin but it made Harry smile. "Thanks, Hermione. At least someone thought so."

"It's right strange. Professor Snape liked you, did you spit into his pumpkin juice?"

"Charming, Ronald. I'm sure if Harry wanted to tell us he would have."

Harry grunted and flipped the page of his Divination text a little too forcefully and made it tear slightly. "Let's just say that between being told the Grim is after me, trying to beat off dementors with a ten-foot stick, and a few other things, I didn't have time to put up with Snape's strange... personality."

Hermione's frown deepened. "That's sad, really. He's your Head of House. He let you have an Ouroboros, didn't he?"

Harry's brow rose. "How'd you know about that?"

"Millicent. She says you love the quote 'pathetic excuse for a pet' end quote."

Harry laughed a little. "Sounds like her, alright." He pushed out of the chair and lifted the books. "I better go. I got some books to help me "entice my Inner Eye" so I'd best be on that."

Ron sniggered. "Good luck with that."

Harry nodded his head and patted Ron's shoulder as he passed him. "Try not to get killed."

Ron shot him a look which made Harry laugh before he headed out of the Library and back to the Common Room.

Obviously, his attempts to get in touch with the seventh dimension, or whatever it was, failed horribly. Harry was huddled under his covers reading off the Marauder's Map with a faint note of boredom. He watched as Snape paced in his quarters before he looked to see Filch troop past the Headmaster's office. Harry was just about to unspell the Map and go to bed when he caught something out of the corner of his eye. Running through a fifth-floor corridor, plain as could be: Peter Pettigrew. Harry stared at the Map as he shot up in bed, gawking. But Pettigrew was dead. Wasn't he? Harry jammed his feet into his shoes before taking off.