A Summoner in the Wizarding World

After the bell rang, me and Ron headed to North Tower where Divination is taught by the Seek-descendant, Professor Trelawney. The sickly sweet perfume spewed forth as we open the trapdoor into the room. The stuffiness is elevated by thick, closed curtains as the circular room is lit by dim reddish light cast by countless gas lamps. We squeezed through the dozens of occupied chintz chairs across the room, and took our seats.

"Good day," said Professor Trelawney in her signature misty voice. Ron jumped as she seemingly appeared from behind, but my shadow has already sensed her presence.

The Seer descendant's large eyes peered at me with a pity-filled expression she always wore towards Harry. An absurd amount of beads, chains, and bangles on her glittered in the firelight.

"You are preoccupied, my dear," she said mournfully. "My inner eye sees past your brave face to the troubled soul within. And I regret to say that your worries are not baseless. I see difficult times ahead for you, alas... most difficult... I fear the thing you dread will indeed come to pass... and perhaps sooner than you think..."

I ignored her whispery voice with a nonchalant expression. Professor Trelawney lost interest and took a seat on her large armchair in front of the fire, facing the cluttered classroom.

"My dears, it is time for us to consider the stars," she said. "The movements of the planets and the mysterious portents they reveal only to those who understand the steps of the celestial dance. Human destiny may be deciphered by the planetary rays, which intermingle..."

Of course, none of her rambling really mattered in the Potterverse, not so much as a self-mockery JK Rowling put in, comparing herself to a rambling madman. Except for her trance state, Professor Trelawney may be the only Hogwarts teacher that does more harm than good to the students, which is outrageous when a certain half-giant makes students take care of half-manticores in class.

"Harry!" Ron interrupted.

"What?"

I glanced around: the whole class was staring at me. I didn't bother hiding my disinterest and stared at the hysterical Professor Trelawney reluctantly.

"As I was saying, my dear, you were clearly born under the baleful influence of Saturn," said the Professor, resenting the fact that I had openly ignored her.

"Born under - what, sorry?" I genuinely could not care less.

"Saturn, dear, the planet Saturn!" said the irritated Professor Trelawney, seemingly disappointed that I wasn't thrilled by this fact. "I was saying that Saturn was surely in a position of power in the heavens at the moment of your birth... Your dark hair... your mean stature... tragic losses so young in life... I think I am right in saying, my dear, that you were born in midwinter?"

"No," I answered, barely holding in a ridiculing laugh, "I was born in July."

Ron hastily made his laugh sound like a hacking cough as Trelawney looked indignantly around for the next target to pick on.

After half an hour, the whole class had been given a complicated astrology chart, and had to fill in the position of the planets at one's birth. Having my infinite storage memory really comes in handy as I flipped through a few wikis to refresh my Potterverse knowledge.

"I've got two Neptunes here," I said quite randomly to Ron, "that can't be right, can it?"

"Aaaaah," the red-head immitated Professor Trelawney's mystical voice, "when two Neptunes appear in the sky, it is a sure sign that a midget in glasses is being born, Harry..."

Seamus and Dean sniggered loudly at his attempt, though not loud enough to drown out Lavender Brown's excited squeals: "Oh Professor, look! I think I've got an unaspected planet! Oooh, which one's that, Professor?"

"It is Uranus, my dear," replied Professor Trelawney.

"Can I have a look at Uranus too, Lavender?" said Ron, unable to stop himself from the obvious joke.

Most unfortunately for him, Professor Trelawney understood the reference and was not amused. This was perhaps the reason why she gave us so much homework.

"A detailed analysis of the way the planetary movements in the coming month will affect you, with reference to your personal chart," she snapped, sounding much more McGonagall-esque than one might expect. Her fierce gaze stopped at the seat next to mine. "I want it ready to hand in next Monday, and no excuses!"

"Miserable old hag," said Ron bitterly as we descended the staircases towards the Great Hall for dinner. "That'll take all weekend, that will..."

I felt a soft hand squeeze mine as our bushy-haired friend showed herself from behind.

"Lots of homework?" greeted Hermione brightly. "Professor Vector didn't give me any!"

"Well, screw him," replied Ron sullenly.

We reached the entrance hall as a loud, pretentious voice rang out.

"Weasley! Hey, Weasley!"

We turned to see three wild Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle standing there, each looking rather pleased about a piece of writing in their hands.

"Your dad's in the paper, Weasley!" said Malfoy excitedly before any of us could reply, shoving a copy of the Daily Prophet at our faces and speaking very loudly, so that everyone in hall could hear. "Listen to this!

"FURTHER MISTAKES AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC

 It seems as though the Ministry of Magic's troubles are not yet at an end, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. Recently under fire for its poor crowd control at the Quidditch World Cup, and still unable to account for the disappearance of one of its witches, the Ministry was plunged into fresh embarrassment yesterday by the antics of Arnold Weasley, of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office."

Malfoy looked up smugly.

"Imagine not even getting your father's name right, Weasley. It's almost as though he's a complete nonentity, isn't it?" he mocked. "Oh, I forgot, Weasleys are just a bunch of blood traitors, after all."

Enjoying everyone's attention and not noting my indifference, Malfoy continued:

"Arnold Weasley, who was charged with possession of a flying car two years ago, was yesterday involved in a tussle with several Muggle law-keepers ("policemen") over a number of highly aggressive dustbins. Mr. Weasley appears to have rushed to the aid of "Mad-Eye" Moody, the aged ex-Auror who retired from the Ministry when no longer able to tell the difference between a handshake and attempted murder. Unsurprisingly, Mr. Weasley found, upon arrival at Mr. Moody's heavily guarded house, that Mr. Moody had once again raised a false alarm. Mr. Weasley was forced to modify several memories before he could escape from the policemen, but refused to answer Daily Prophet questions about why he had involved the Ministry in such an undignified and potentially embarrassing scene."

"And there's a picture, Weasley!" gloated Malfoy, flipping the paper over and showing it to Ron. "A picture of your parents outside their house - if you can call it a house! Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn't she?"

 Ron was shaking with fury. Everyone was staring at him. I waited patiently for Barty Crouch to arrive and watched the petty fight on the sidelines.

 "Oh yeah, you were staying with them this summer, weren't you, Potter?" sneered Malfoy. "So tell me, is his mother really that porky, or is it just the picture?"

 "I wouldn't be the one asking, Malfoy." I replied, smirking irritably. "At least, she's still luckier than your mum, not giving birth to a bigot like you."

 Malfoy's pale face went slightly pink.

"Don't you dare insult my mother, Potter! "

"The truth hurts, my boy," I mockingly imitated Dumbledore's granfatherly tone and turned away, priming my shadow to dodge Malfoy's sneak attack.

BANG!

Screams erupted as I felt my shadow pulling me aside, a white-hot spell sailing wide near my face. I leisurely reached for my wand, but a second loud BANG soon echoed through the entrance hall.

"OH NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!"

The man himself. Barty Crouch, in Professor Moody's disguise, limped down the marble staircase, his wand out pointing at a pure white ferret, which was shivering on the floor - Malfoy, obviously. He turned to look at me - at least, his normal eye - the other one was pointing into the back of his head.

"Did he get you?" The disguised Death Eater growled, his voice hoarse and rough.

"No," I replied, "missed."

"LEAVE IT!" Crouch shouted.

As I looked around amusedly, Crouch clarified:

"Not you - him!" He jerked his thumb behind at Crabbe, who was about to pick up the transfigured Malfoy. Crouch limped towards the three, the ferret giving a terrified squeak and took off, streaking toward the dungeons.

"Oh no you don't!" roared Crouch, pointing his wand at Malfoy and made him fly ten feet into the air, smack to the floor, and then bounced upward once more.

"I don't like backstabbers," he growled as the ferret bounced higher and higher, squealing in pain. "Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do..."

'Bit rich of you to say that... I'm pretty sure Moody was ganged up on by Pettigrew, Crouch and baby Voldy.', I rebutted in my head.

The ferret flew through the air, its legs and tail flailing helplessly.

"Never - do - that - again -" the Death Eater spoke each word as the ferret hit the stone floor and bounced upward again.

"Professor Moody!" exclaimed a shocked voice.

Professor McGonagall was coming down the marble staircase with a large book stack.

"Hello, Professor McGonagall," said Moody calmly, bouncing the ferret still higher.