2nd September, 1973. Hogwarts.

Alya had arrived at Hogwarts only the day before, ready to start her third year of school. That year, the first of September was a Saturday, and little Black had not resisted and had sneaked straight off to her favourite place, the Forbidden Forest. It was a bit of a risky move since there were no Quidditch matches to give her an alibi.

However, as it was the first day at the castle, most of the students were still intent on resuming their school routines, calmly settling into their rooms or more simply enjoying catching up with old classmates, exchanging anecdotes about their respective summer holidays.

Alya, who had initially gone with her friends to the large school park to enjoy the warm sun radiating across the landscape, felt a strong urge to enter the forest and visit Koboro, whom she had not seen for over two months. The more years passed, the deeper their bond became. More and more often, Little Black wanted to spend time in his company, intensifying her escapes to the Forbidden Forest. She made up an excuse to get away from her friends and ran towards the clearing where she used to meet the black cobra.

When the girl reached the clearing of grass, free from the tangles of branches and leaves, she lay down on the green mantle and pulled out from her bag the Muggle book, Treasure Island. Flipping through those pages, now worn out from too much use, was a habit he would not easily abandon. As always, Alya immersed himself in reading, in the company of her thoughts, awaiting the arrival of her snake friend.

A little less than an hour passed, and Alya perceived the familiar sound of Koboro's body slowly and sinuously slithering on the ground. She saw the shining black cobra snake through the grass, its dark eyes reflecting the brightness of a ray that had bounced off the thick, scaly surface of the reptile.

"You look thoughtful," the snake said in Parseltongue, flicking its thin, scarlet tongue in midair.

Alya hurriedly closed the book and abandoned herself lying on the cool earth.

''I was thinking about the day we met,'' she sighed. She looked instinctively at her palms.

"A day of rare importance. For both of us." Koboro hissed solemnly.

It was true. On that day, long ago, Alya had saved Koboro's life and he was now in her debt; the same event had caused a painful rift in her relationship with Sirius, which seemed to have been irreparably compromised when the young boy had discovered that his sister was a Parselmouth. Alya had injured herself, her brother had abandoned her in the woods, and, finally, she had been rescued by a Muggle family. To which, then, she had become inevitably attached. Unimaginable events had mysteriously blended into a single time span.

However, there was more. Another event had made its way into the child's soul on that strange day at the end of July, although Alya struggled to admit it. She fixed her gaze on her hands. A hoarse, distant voice boomed in her head. Words of hope mixed with ominous words.

Alya remembered the old Muggle fortune teller and her strange prophecy: Your nineteen years. Reconciliation. Love. A son. A family. United. Alya looked minutely at the grooves on her left hand.

Your seventeen years. Your death. The sentence on her right hand still sent shivers down her spine.

Two completely different prophecies. The fulfilment of one nullified the possible existence of the other. The impossibility of their coexistence was unimpeachable. And for that, it was more than logical to assume that the old Muggle woman was nothing more than a charlatan, dedicated to spouting false premonitions. Alya hadn't fallen for it. She hadn't believed her game.

Nevertheless, those words disturbed her. And Alya still recalled them with annoyance. She closed her palms and lowered her hands. She placed the back of one on her forehead and closed her eyes, abandoning herself to the sounds of the forest. With a long breath, Alya tried to relax her mind. The childhood memories that had marked her so much swirled haphazardly for a while longer before subsiding and dissolving. Koboro's slow crawl around her, his black body gliding elegantly over the ground had an almost hypnotic effect on the girl, who found herself half-asleep. Alya enjoyed those moments of relaxed stillness for a few minutes.

A watch encircled her wrist. Alya looked at the time, then in a reluctant tone said:

"I'd better go. Someone might notice my absence."

Alya never stayed too long inside the Forbidden Forest. When she returned from her secret excursions, if it wasn't Quidditch day, she often made up that she had gone to the library or some other remote location in the castle. Hogwarts was vast enough that a prolonged trip away would go unnoticed. But Alya didn't like taking risks, so she never stayed out for long, so as not to arouse suspicion.

Koboro slid around her again, forming a wide circle with his body. It was his way of greeting her. She returned with a silent smile.

Little Black carefully hid the Muggle book inside her bag and quickly slipped out of the Forbidden Forest.

As soon as she had passed the wall of branches and leaves, Alya was embraced by the warmth of the sun. It was the second day of a warm September, and the sky stretched clear and bright blue.

The park was crowded with students who, like Alya, were enjoying the day outdoors.

Alya quickly spotted Philippa, Melyssa and Beth and joined them. She would have preferred to spend her time with Regulus, much more pleasant company than the trio of friends, but Alya had noticed him deep in conversation with a couple of other boys, about Quidditch and broomsticks. A topic Alya couldn't suffer. Besides, she had no intention of disturbing her little brother; unlike her, Regulus seemed to enjoy the company of his new friends.

Alya resigned herself to sharing the rest of the time of that quiet day with her roommates, who were exchanging sour gossip.

Thus, the weekend passed quickly, imbued with a lazy stillness, anticipating the start of the new school year at Hogwarts.

***

3rd September 1973. Hogwarts.

Monday arrived sluggish and listless, bringing with it the start of classes. The Great Hall teemed with sleepy students, yawning at the end of each bite.

Alya sat, as always, next to her friends. She greedily sipped her pumpkin juice, while Beth resignedly studied the weekly class schedule, just handed out by the prefects.

"This morning, we start with two hours of Divination and two more of History of Magic." Alya sighed sadly, glancing at her friend's slip of paper. The week couldn't have started in a more boring way.

"Then, in the afternoon, we'll have Charms." continued Beth, in disgust.

Alya, on the other hand, galvanised a little. Charms was one of her favourite subjects.

"Do you have Divination this year?" a blonde second-year girl asked curiously.

"Yes, it starts in the third year, but almost everyone drops it after O.W.L exams. It's boring as hell, besides being absolutely useless." grumbled Philippa, giving herself airs of an expert.

"Hot air, according to my parents. They wonder why Hogwarts insists on featuring it in the curriculum," agreed Melyssa.

"Do you know who the professor is?" asked Alya, vaguely curious.

"No, but whoever he is, I sincerely hope he's less boring than that moaning Binns," commented Beth acidly.

After breakfast, the four girls gathered their bags full of books and headed, together with the other third-year students, to the classroom where the new Divination class would be held.

As with Potions, Divination also took place in the dungeons of the castle. In that remote part of the school, the air was colder and more humid, the atmosphere darker. The classroom was located behind a small, completely anonymous wooden door that could easily have been mistaken for a broom cupboard. The room wasn't very spacious, barely able to hold the desks needed for all the students. However, it looked less gloomy than the room used for Potions: at least, Alya thought, it wasn't crawling with all those granguignolous ampoules with disgusting contents. Stone walls surrounded the perimeter, and several torches had been lit along the walls, providing a soft, flickering light. All in all, if one ignored the dampness that hovered heavy in the air, the room was quite cosy.

Within minutes, the room was filled with the colours of Slytherin and Hufflepuff.

Only when she had taken her seat did Alya notice the silent presence of the professor, who sat motionless behind the desk. He was a rather elderly man, judging by his white hair and thick beard. On the sides of his forehead, furrowed by deep wrinkles, a broad receding hairline was evident. Sunken brown eyes gazed sternly and attentively at every movement in the room. Wrapped in a sober dark robe, the professor exuded a certain aura of solemnity, which Alya had only perceived in Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts. His arms rested stiffly on the surface of the desk, his elbows supporting his forearms, his hands intertwined in front of his austere face.

The old professor didn't look like a teacher of Divination at all. He rather looked like a completely respectable teacher. Alya was surprised. Partly because of her only divination experience, which she had had at the Bennet house, she had imagined a much more eccentric character, similar to the poorly made-up and oddly dressed old Mugglewoman she had met in Cornwall.

The teacher didn't say a word for as long as the students settled down at their desks. Even once everyone was seated, he waited a good two minutes before starting to speak.

An expectant silence fell in the classroom, and only then did the serious teacher clear his throat.

"Good morning, everyone. My name is Isaiah Ghalil, and I am your Divination professor," he said in a neutral tone. He made a quick gesture with his hand, pointing to the blackboard behind him, on which the name he had just pronounced immediately appeared, in beautiful, elegant, cursive handwriting.

"In my course, you will learn the basics of the main practices devoted to the ancient art of clairvoyance and prescience. You will be given notions of Chiromancy, Tasseomancy, Crystalomancy, and the reading of the glass sphere, Oneiromancy and the Horoscope."

Professor Ghalil spoke pragmatically, maintaining a serious but at the same time frank tone, his brown eyes fixed on the students who returned him with curious and puzzled expressions. Alya realised she wasn't the only one who had imagined a completely different teacher. Divination had always been considered an extravagant subject, which was not taken too seriously by those who studied it. In other schools of magic, it had even been excluded from the curriculum, considered too abstract.

All that seriousness clashed with the collective image shared by the students.

"These are just some of the existing practices. The most widespread on our continent, to be precise. In reality, there are hundreds, thousands of methods, and variations to decipher, or at least attempt to decipher the cryptic signals of the unknown. An entire school term would not be enough, even to mention them all."

"Every culture has its arts, and every divinatory art has its own ancient origin, history and evolution. And, mind you, I call them arts on purpose. Divination is not something that can be learned quietly from books, nor does a daily exercise allow for its safe acquisition. Like magic itself, it is a gift. Potentially accessible to all, but in fact only revealed to a few. Strong sensitivity and wide open-mindedness are essential elements for those who wish to get in touch with the clues left behind to understand possible future dynamics. In fact, I highly doubt that in this class, in this school, there can be anyone who can predict anything." Professor Ghalil made no effort to hide a faint sarcastic smile, which had just been uttered under his white beard.

"And why are we studying it?" blurted out an offended Slytherin boy, sitting at the back of the class.

"Your name, please?" asked the professor with marked politeness.

"Ebenezer Gauld." replied the boy dryly.

"You see, Mr Gauld, the Ministry of Magic considers it appropriate that, on the off chance that you, or some other of your mates, stumble upon what may turn out to be a prophecy, you could manage to draw upon the knowledge and skills necessary to recognise it as such. For my part, I can assert that you have nothing to worry about and that the chances of you witnessing such an event are decidedly few. However, caution is never too much,'' the professor explained placidly.

"Excuse me, but you speak of these -- clues as something left on purpose by someone -- like a gift?" observed a plump Hufflepuff girl in a hesitant voice.

"Your name, please?" repeated Ghalil as politely as before.

"Emilia Taylor." replied the girl in a feeble tone.

"Miss Taylor, you are not wrong. It is indeed so. Prophecies and premonitions are nothing but messages. Gifts from the Universe," replied Professor Ghalil politely. His tone seemed to have softened a little. The whole class stared at him with astonished expressions. No one seemed to have understood his speech.

"Let me explain myself better. I am persuaded to believe that there is a kind of unique energy that governs the Universe and dwells in every being in existence. It is an energy that strives for balance and does maintain the proper flow of events. On this flow depends the evolution of the Universe itself, to which we all belong. We, too, although unconsciously most of the time, contribute to this evolution taking place."

A heavy silence had once again fallen in the classroom, in which a solemn curiosity hovered.

"As you have certainly studied in History of Magic, with Professor Binns, it sometimes happens that something or someone interferes with the balance that governs our world. Wars, tragedies, dark magic... they are like a poison that erodes this unifying energy, risking the destruction of what exists. But the Universe is an organism that knows how to defend itself. And, sometimes, it appeals to those who live in it, seeking allies. It sends signals. Clues. Messages. That is, all that we, in our humble ignorance, call prophecies. They are rarely easy to understand. The Universe uses its own language, different from the one we humans usually use. It is extremely complex and simple at the same time. It appeals to our deepest nature, to that part that we all share in some way, regardless of culture or language. This is why the Universe makes use of symbols and archetypes, such as dreams or visions, or images and drawings found in tea or coffee leaves, or in hand lines. In the elements of nature even. As I said earlier, such messages are potentially understandable to everyone, but without the proper knowledge, we are blind and unable to grasp these important signals."

"Divination teaches us how to read the clues the Universe sends us, it gives us the tools to translate its archaic language."

"When you say these messages are accessible to everyone, do you mean Muggles as well, Professor?" the words came out of Alya's mouth, without her realising it. The professor's brown eyes flashed curiously over the girl.

"Your name, please?"

"Alya Merope Black." she replied politely.

"Yes, Miss Black. The messages of the Universe are also accessible to Muggles -- in theory."

An indignant murmur rose among the pews of Slytherin boys. To hear that a Muggleborn could access some magical art sounded like heresy to their ears. But Professor Ghalil took no notice, ignoring them as one ignores a fly.

"And in practice?" urged Alya, with a veiled tone of challenge.

"In practice, Miss Black, it is highly unlikely that a person not dedicated to magic could grasp such complex messages. Even on the off chance that a Muggle would be able to perceive a prophecy, he wouldn't have the means to handle information of such level. As I have already said, correctly interpreting clues about what we don't know is a very difficult task, even for the most powerful wizards."

"And have you ever predicted anything, Professor?" insisted Alya.

The teacher turned an enigmatic smile on the class.

"I must inform you guys that I do not usually call myself a clairvoyant. As far as I'm concerned, I'm just an enthusiast of the subject, a scholar of the various arts of Divination. But I certainly don't go around making predictions just to gain fame. If that's what you mean, Miss Black'' Ghalil explained, smiling mockingly. Alya blushed, hoping she had not offended the professor. After all, she seemed to know her stuff.

''I thank you, however, for your question, Miss Black. In the next point of my tedious speech, I would like to address this very topic. True, I consider Divination to be a very powerful art, accessible to all, but understandable to few. But power is a gluttonous dish, which appeals to many. It's common to meet people who boast of possessing the gift of foresight of being able to see the future clearly. With a bit of cunning and a good dialectic, it is easy to pass oneself off as clairvoyant, and this can lead to fame and even high positions in our wizarding society. However, it's also common that, in most cases, these characters turn out to be mere charlatans at the end of the day."

A hand rose hesitantly from a Hufflepuff desk.

"Please tell me," said Professor Ghalil softly, addressing the girl who had raised her arm.

"Once you receive the message -- or the prophecy -- then what do you do?" she asked.

The professor's face lit up in a radiant, satisfied smile.

"Good question. What do you do after hearing or receiving a prophecy? Well, the answer is very simple. You choose."

The students exchanged confused glances and then glued themselves insistently to the teacher's face, searching for answers. No one seemed to have understood his words. The smile had not disappeared beneath his beard.

The professor closed his eyes and, in a solemn voice, quoted:

"Things are united by invisible bonds. You can't pick a flower without upsetting a star."

The students cast even more puzzled glances at each other.

"An old ancestor of mine used to repeat this phrase. I will try to explain its meaning in the simplest possible words. In the Universe, there is an energy that binds us all. Everything that exists. This causes a balance to exist. When the balance of the Universe is threatened, energy is activated in its defence. It sends messages. A kind of call for help. And, so, when we are called by the Universe, we must respond. The problem is that the Universe doesn't give us an instruction manual. It doesn't tell us exactly what it expects us to do to safeguard the threatened balance. So the only thing we can do is choose. Choose how to act. For good. Or for evil. For our own benefit or for the greater good. According to the values we have been taught or for what we feel in our hearts. Here, I believe that the key to action lies precisely in this kind of choice. After all, it is our choices that feed the flow of existence. The most powerful choices are those dictated by love. Love is the only force capable of restoring balance."

"Our choices are the only legacy we can leave to those who will come after us. They are like seeds, capable of creating deep and resistant roots. They represent our only legacy capable of surviving forever, if necessary. No matter how insignificant or useless they may seem to us at the exact moment we make them. The choices we make, induced by that wonderful energy we call love, are the only ones destined to nourish and preserve this complicated and imperfect world."

Again silence fell. Everyone listened. The Hufflepuff students seemed genuinely enraptured by such solemn and profound words. The Slytherins merely dissimulated their scornful expressions, casting amused glances at each other between their desks. Alya could hear Beth beside her struggling to hold back a laugh. Philippa and Melyssa exchanged glances, expressing all their disdain for the matter, which they considered absurd.

Professor Ghalil recomposed himself and embraced the class again with a serious look.

"Anyway, you can rest assured. Prophecies and premonitions are things that rarely happen. I do not aim to make you clairvoyants. My only aim is to make you study as much as possible so that you can acquire decent O.W.L. exams by the time you are in your fifth year. I doubt that most of you will go on to study Divination once you have passed your exams. My classes used to depopulate considerably in the sixth year. I fear I will not enjoy your company for long." And he turned another of his wry smiles on the students.

Professor Ghalil took out a small gold pocket watch and looked at the time.

"Well, take your book and open it to page five, chapter one. Title: Divination and its Origins. Come on, quickly. The programme is vast and time is short," he urged them in a stern voice.

The rest of the lesson was devoted exclusively to reading the designated chapter. Boredom soon spread throughout the classroom. When the bell rang, the students from Hufflepuff and Slytherin left the small classroom in the dungeon with some haste, to go to the next lesson.

"At last! I couldn't take it any longer!" grumbled Philippa, as she walked along with Alya, Melyssa and Beth down the first floor corridor.

"We have two hours with Binns ahead of us now. The morning is still long," replied Beth, sighing.

"I think I'll take a good nap. All that nonsense about the art of Divination has knocked me out." giggled the blonde girl, mimicking Professor Ghalil's solemn attitude. Melyssa and Beth joined in the laughter. Alya nodded without much enthusiasm.

Things are united by invisible bonds. You can't pick a flower without upsetting a star.

For a reason she couldn't explain, that strange phrase had become indelibly engraved in her mind, echoing as powerfully as her footsteps down the corridor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Hi everyone!

This chapter is a bit longer than the previous ones.

Although it may seem like a passing part of the story, it is actually a very important chapter that encapsulates the implicit message of the entire ff.

Professor Ghalil is a character of my invention and is inspired by the figure of Galileo Galilei (the quote is also his).

I really hope you enjoy this character, as well as the chapter in general!

Let me know what you think about it ♡