Chapter Text
Fourth year brought with it a hush of expectation.
Trelawney was gone. Not abruptly, but almost… poetically. A soft farewell over the summer, a few tea cups left rattling in the breeze. The towers felt clearer, quieter, and slightly more grounded.
And in her place came Pandora Lovegood.
Tall, serene, with starlight in her eyes and a voice like the hum of the universe, she glided into Hogwarts as if she had always been meant to be here. Her first class was not in the North Tower but on the Astronomy Tower, beneath the stars themselves. The students were baffled—until she began to speak.
"We have forgotten," she said, eyes twinkling. "That Divination is not merely looking forward. It is also looking inward. That the future is seeded in us already—like stories we haven’t finished reading."
Even Hermione, who had scoffed at Trelawney’s brand of fortune-telling, found herself oddly attentive. There was something about Professor Lovegood that made you listen. Like she knew truths.
And slowly, subtly, it began.
A whisper of a dream. A flicker of a vision in a crystal bowl instead of a ball. A pattern repeated in stars and tea leaves and numbers.
Hermione didn’t understand why she kept hearing the same line in her dreams.
"One born of music and mourning shall bring the storm and silence it."
Luna, half in her own world, half perfectly aware, stared at her one morning after class and simply said,
“You’re humming again. It’s trying to remember through you.”
"What's trying to remember?" Hermione asked.
"The world," Luna said. "Before it breaks."
And then, during a Saturday evening class that only a few signed up for—Theo, Padma, Hermione, Luna, Aelius, and surprisingly, even Harry—Pandora placed a copper dish of moon water before them and said gently,
“Tonight, we listen. We do not look. The stars are speaking. One of you will hear.”
And someone did.
The water shimmered. Luna’s breath caught.
So did Pandora’s.
Her voice shook as she stood, her hands tightening around the rim of the copper bowl. “A thread just trembled in the Weave.”
No one moved.
Hermione’s music stirred unbidden in her blood. Harry’s scar prickled for the first time in months. Theo frowned, sensing…something. Padma’s runes textbook flipped a page of its own accord.
And Pandora Lovegood, smiling gently now, said,
"The prophecy has begun to awaken."