"Just what is up with Sibyll's unnecessary need for drama this early in the year...?", she muttered, pushing down her worries by shaking her head. It was one of these rare moments she spent with Harry and his friends in the library, after classes, curtesy of Hermione who insisted on at least trying to get along by doing homework together.

"Each of us has his or her strengths and weaknesses. For example is (Y/n) awesome at potions, while Harry seems to be good at DADA. We can all learn from each other, and profit from that!"

Admittedly, she disliked the idea of forcing someone to get along, yet had yielded and decided to act as civil as she always did, once she's seen Hermione's hopeful eyes. The girl was actually sweet, trying to make things right before they could ever turn sour. Additionally she could probably use some female companions, considering her trio was completed by two boys who rarely understood her. That olive branche had been accepted more than happily, and a tender sort-of friendship had formed. Ron however was still uncomfortable around her, as she had imagined from hearing the way he grew up listening about Slytherins. Harry was neutral towards her, if sometimes a little uneasy due to the lack of connection they shared. He too, was a sweet kid, in (Y/n)'s eyes, but the treatment of her 'family' had obviously left scars that wouldn't be mended by a few study sessions. Sighing, she turned to him, trying to keep her voice as reassuring as possible.

"You're not gonna die, Harry. She would've told you the same thing these past two years, and yet here you stand. There's no need to worry, I doubt Dumbledore would let anything happen to you. Or any student, if that matters."

"That's what I've been saying!", Hermione exclaimed, huffing. "I told you, Divination is absolutely useless and pointless too! I'm dropping this class, that's for sure!"

A weak smile was sent her way, noting the time turner dangling around her neck. It explained the exhaustion the young Gryffindor displayed, and how she managed to uphold her far too busy schedule. Next to the mandatory amount of optional classes, she had chosen every available one, sometimes overlapping mentioned lesson plans, a task admirable for a muggle born witch. To some, (Y/n) went along, if only to provide company to the girl, bored to no end either way. Reminding herself she was digressing again, she spoke.

"It's a difficult type of magic, that's for sure. However, it's not entirely useless. Some geat catastrophies were prevented by fortune tellers. It's not always the most accurate, but if done correctly, helpful in many ways."

"Mere luck, I say." Her study partner snorted, crossing her arms. "There have been just as many occasions where the prediction was incorrect."

"Maybe. But it still motivated the people to take counter measures ahead of time.", (Y/n) pointed out, causing Hermione to frown unsure.

"I suppose..."

She sighed. "To get back on topic. Trelawney finds a grim in at least one students' cup every year, as I heard. Slytherins tend to talk about stuff like that, so I can at least confirm that pretty much none of these exclamations became true during school."

"Figures they would.", Ron murmured, not quite silent enough for (Y/n) not to hear. "Bloody gossipys."

Exhasperated, she pretended not to have heard the snide comment, turning back to her essay on Transfiguration. "She might not sound and act like it, but she was actually the one that predicted your parents' and your fate long ago. True foretelling can usually be recognized by the teller not remembering said predictions anymore. Professor Snape explained it to me once during detention. It was more of a rant, and I drew the conclusions though."

"Now that just makes it even more unreliable!" Hermione huffed, barely noticing the small, exhausted smile thrown her way. "It's settled. No more Divination for me!"

"Yeah, I'd drop it as well if it wasn't such an easy subject. Have you seen how strange she acted around (y/n), too? Almost as if she knew her." Ron shuddered.

(Y/n) held back a sigh. "I can assure you, Weasley, that I have never met the woman in this entire life." This one, at least.

"I second that." Harry mumbled, this time earning himself a true, less detained smile. Maybe life could be actually worth living this time...

"(Y/n)! (Y/n)! Are you there?", Sibyll's voice echoed over the clearing, up until the moment she spotted the older student reading beneath a weeping tree. Her face showed how deep in thought she'd been, so deep, that she didn't even hear her calling out.

"Trelly. What a nice surprise. What are you doing here?"

"It's almost noon!", pouted the younger one, folding her arms over her chest to emphasize her point. "I can't believe that I have to collect you for lunch again. It's the third time this week!"

"Ah, I'm sorry. I have been lost in my own mind again, I fear. Thank you for coming to collect me. I owe you one."

"That's what you always say. Honestly, some day, I swear your tardiness will be your demise..."

"Well, there's no knowing until it happens, isn't it?", she smiled, getting up to join the fortune teller. "Besides, with you always there to remind me, there won't be a need to further a paranoia about time. We have plenty of it, don't we?"

"Tomorrow, Hagrid will hold his first class...", (Y/n) murmured, head propped onto her hand as she looked out of the window, gazing into the deep waters of the lake. "I wonder how he'll fare..."