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Albus had never thought much of divination.
One didn't need to see the future to know what was to happen. All one needed was keen skills of observation, a basic understanding of human nature, and perhaps a bit of Legilimency. After all, humans were lamentably predictable creatures. All it took was some guidance, a suggestion, or a nudge to make them behave exactly as one wanted. And what was the need for divine intervention, then?
True seers, moreover, were few, born perhaps in every tenth generation, and their abilities were entirely unpredictable and uncontrollable. Most of them might get one or two prophecies in their lifetimes, and even then, they didn't necessarily come to pass in decades or centuries - if at all. As such, most seers trifled in frivolous predictions and ostentatious fortune-telling to make a living.
So when Prisca Spinnet, the current Divination professor, retired for the quiet of the Black Forest, Albus thought about discontinuing the subject. But then, somewhat quaintly, he got a letter from Sybill Trelawney who applied for the job. He almost dismissed her letter outright, but her allusion that she'd already Seen herself in the position amused him.
Besides, she was the great-granddaughter of Cassandra Trelawney, and it wouldn't do to alienate a person of such ancestry. Connections were important: one could never tell who might turn out to be useful and how.
And Tom had always believed in such things. For all his posturing as pure-blood aristocracy, he was more like a Muggle with his petty superstitions.
So Albus made careful preparations first.
He invited her to the Hog's Head. Even in the midst of the war, it had remained a neutral ground of sorts for various magical beings and wizards. There were many helpful little ears around the place in case something happened, and Sybill Trelawney had inherited more than just her grandmother's name. If not, it'd likely unnerve Tom anyway.
However, she turned out to be a disappointment.
Sybill Trelawney was a diminutive woman, dressed in glittering jewels and bright colours, with eyeglasses that magnified her eyes unnaturally. She spoke in a soft, misty voice, accentuated with the soporific clink of her bangles.
She was utterly mundane.
Albus kept a courteous smile on his face as she prattled on about trivial things she called Seeing. After a leisurely cup of tea, he finally stood up and prepared to leave. After all, she was of no use to him, and he was quite busy with the war.
Then it happened.
Trelawney fell back in the chair, rigid. Her eyes glazed, and her mouth went slack. A harsh voice scraped from her throat, so unlike the voice she'd used moments before. Albus stared with detached curiosity, his cloak folded on the crook of his elbow - and then his heart leapt with triumphant joy as he realised she was Seeing a prophecy about Tom.
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies..." Trelawney said, and Albus's mind was instantly awhirr with two possibilities.
The Longbottoms and the Potters.
The Longbottoms were an old wizarding family; Algie and Enid were still alive, as was Augusta. She was a formidable woman, unlikely to be taken by the war or old age for quite a while.
The Potters, however, had whittled down only to James. And as far as Albus knew, Lily only had her Muggle sister and her family as relatives. From what he'd heard, she'd disowned Lily as well.
Yes.
Yes. They would do.
Now all Albus had to do was bait Tom to go after them, and what a simpler way to do that than insist that the Potters hide behind a Fidelius Charm? Lily was expecting, too, soon to give birth. It'd be easy to convince them.
He waited until the helpful ear behind the door had run off, and Sybill woke up from her trance, most considerately without a trace of memory of what had happened.
Albus smiled kindly and offered her a position at Hogwarts. She was delighted, twittering on about Seeing herself as a professor.
It wouldn't do to let Tom get her hands on her just yet.