𝑬𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑳 . . . 𝗂-ˈ𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗋-ē-ə𝗅
༢ ͎۪۫ ༊ ❛ 𝖿𝗂𝖿𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋 ﾉ 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝖺𝗓𝗄𝖺𝖻𝖺𝗇. ❜
▇ ¨. ༢ ͎۪۫ ༊*·˚ ╱ 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒊𝒗𝒆 ❜
. . . ➾ ˗ˏˋ teacups, mad teachers, and bets ࿐ྂ
𝗗𝗔𝗪𝗡 𝗔𝗟𝗗𝗘𝗥𝗜𝗗𝗚𝗘

     𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑴𝑶𝑴𝑬𝑵𝑻 𝑾𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑷𝑷𝑬𝑫 𝑰𝑵𝑻𝑶 the Divination classroom, the heavy scent of incense and the dim, hazy atmosphere immediately made my nose wrinkle. Professor Trelawney stood at the front of the room, her large, magnified eyes peering through her oversized glasses as if she were staring directly into our souls. Her gauzy, colorful robes billowed slightly as she gestured with dramatic flair toward the assembled students.

     "Welcome, my children!" she intoned, her voice ethereal and just a touch too loud. "In this room, you shall explore the noble art of Divination!"

     Cassian, seated to my right, smirked, barely suppressing a laugh. I elbowed him sharply, earning a muttered, "What? She's hilarious." On my other side, Wren's expression was a careful balance of polite interest and genuine curiosity, a surprising trait for a Slytherin. While the rest of us were quick to sneer or mock, Wren actually tried to take people seriously — a trait that baffled me sometimes.

     "Grant, how much do you want to bet she 'foresees' someone's impending doom within the next ten minutes?" Cassian whispered loudly enough for only our table to hear.

     Grant Lorde, sitting across from us and exuding effortless cool with his dark hair and sharp jawline, merely smirked. "Five galleons on it," he replied smoothly. Grant was one of those Slytherins who rarely spoke but when he did, everyone paid attention. His aloof demeanor, coupled with his striking looks, made him almost as insufferably adored as Cassian. Almost.

     As if on cue, Professor Trelawney clasped her hands dramatically, her voice dropping to a whisper. "In this room, you shall discover if you possess... the Sight."

     Cassian snorted audibly this time, earning a glare from Wren and a chorus of giggles from the table behind us. Two girls — Ravenclaws, by their ties. And if I'm not mistaken, third years — were practically swooning over him, whispering behind their hands as if we couldn't hear them.

     They were seated at the table directly behind us, their eyes practically glued to the back of Cassian's head. One of them, a brunette with a flair for dramatics that could rival Trelawney's, whispered something to her friend, who immediately burst into laughter, her gaze darting to Cassian like he was some sort of celebrity.

     "He's so charming," the brunette gushed, her voice loud enough for half the room to hear.

     "He really is," the other sighed, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger as she glanced over at him, hoping for even a scrap of acknowledgment.

     Cassian didn't even have to turn around to know they were talking about him. He flashed a lazy grin, his confidence radiating as he leaned back further in his chair, balancing on the back legs. "You'd think I'd get tired of it," he murmured, just loud enough for me and Wren to hear. "But honestly? I don't."

     Wren shook her head, exasperated but not unkind. "You're insufferable," she said, though the faint smile tugging at her lips took the sting out of her words.

     "Don't encourage him," I muttered, though I couldn't entirely hide my amusement. Cassian had a way of making even the most mundane situations entertaining — though I'd never admit it to him.

     Before anyone could continue, Trelawney clapped her hands together, silencing the room. "Now, now, my dears, let us focus," she said, her voice floating above us like smoke. "Today, we shall begin with the reading of tea leaves. The leaves, my children, will reveal the secrets of your future."

     I sighed, already dreading the exercise.

     "Paired partners," Trelawney continued, her wide eyes sweeping over the class. "One shall read, and one shall be read. Choose wisely."

     Cassian turned to Grant, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Think you can handle my future, Lorde?"

     Grant snorted. "Pretty sure it's nothing but quidditch, girls, and trouble. Not exactly a mystery."

     "Jealousy doesn't suit you," Cassian shot back, though his grin was all in good fun.

     As the class moved to retrieve teacups and leaves, the chatter grew louder, and I couldn't help but catch snippets of the girls behind us. "Grant's just as dreamy," one whispered. "Imagine being friends with both of them. It's not fair."

     "I'd take either, honestly," the other replied, her tone wistful.

     I rolled my eyes and glanced over at Wren, who was smiling faintly as she arranged her tea set with surprising enthusiasm. Only Wren could make Divination seem like an actual opportunity instead of a waste of time.

     "Dawn," Grant called, drawing my attention. He held up a teacup, his smirk firmly in place. "Think you can handle my destiny?"

     "Not even remotely," I replied dryly, taking the cup from him.

     As the lesson continued, Trelawney drifted around the room, offering vague and often ridiculous interpretations of the leaves. Meanwhile, Cassian and Grant entertained themselves by making up increasingly absurd fortunes for one another, their laughter drawing more than a few glares.

     "First, you must empty your mind," Trelawney intoned, "and allow the images to come to you. The leaves will speak, my children, if only you listen."

     Grant leaned forward, resting his chin on one hand as he watched her with faint amusement. "Think she'll be offended if I fall asleep halfway through this?"

     I smirked despite myself. "I think she'd call it a 'vision of unconsciousness.'"

     As the class began their attempts at deciphering the mysteries of tea leaves, Trelawney meandered through the room, her gaze growing progressively more dramatic with each student she approached. Sure enough, it wasn't long before she stopped at Harry Potter's table, her voice trembling as she declared, "The Grim! Oh, my dear boy, the Grim!"

     The class erupted into whispers and murmurs, and I couldn't help but shoot Cassian a knowing look. "Pay up," I whispered.

     Cassian grinned, fishing five galleons out of his pocket and sliding them toward Grant. "Worth every knut," he said with a shrug.

     "Is it bad that I'm actually kind of enjoying this?" Wren asked, her voice quiet but genuinely curious as she stared into her teacup.

     "Yes," Cassian, Grant and I said simultaneously.