Chapter Text
Sybill Trelawney was a proud woman. So, when she overheard her colleagues whispering about her yet again, she decided enough was enough. She would transform her class into the very best subject that this blasted school had ever seen! Besides, Harry Potter would be in her class this year. She simply had to make a good impression.
The only problem was, she had absolutely no idea where to begin. And then she found herself drowning her sorrows in a noisy, unfamiliar muggle bar.
"Hey, take it easy, sister," a sassy voice cut through her reverie. Sybill was honestly a little imbibed—no, inebriated—and couldn't quite place the voice. But in her blurry state, she could have sworn the bartender looked exactly like Jennifer Coolidge.
"What's your problem, hon? Tell all to Auntie Jenny," said the bartender, leaning on the counter.
"My colleagues think I'm a joke. Just because they're all so stiff and academic. My class can't be taught from a textbook, it's an art! A thing of the soul!" said Sybill.
"And what do you teach, hon?" asked Jenny.
"Arts..." Sybill answered without thinking.
Jenny nodded wisely, wiping a glass. "Well, not every kid's gonna be the next Picasso. But all of 'em can learn, with a little patience and good foundations. You know, I had this great teacher once. She wouldn't just tell us to draw. First, she'd tell us all about the history of art, and then she'd show us slides of the most prominent artists. It was supposed to inspire us, to help us find our own style."
Now there was an idea. Talking about the history... of Divination! The subject had a rich and ancient history. Why, even muggles had picked up on a few things—reading tea leaves, consulting the stars, studying the palm.
"Well, I can't think of anything better," admitted Sybill.
"Yeah, you give it a try," Jenny encouraged. "And as a wise woman once said, you better work!"
Sybill Trelawney stood before her class, feeling more thrilled than she had in years. She had read her notes many times. She took a look at the studens and drew a deep breath.
"Welcome to Divination," she began, her voice a little nervous. "Divination is one of the oldest magical practices known to wizard and muggle alike."
She waved her wand, and images flickered onto the chalkboard behind her.
"In ancient Mesopotamia, priests practiced a form called lecanomancy—divination by pouring oil into a bowl of water and interpreting the patterns it formed. The Babylonians recorded these interpretations on clay tablets, some of which still exist today."
A few students glanced at each other, surprised.
"The Etruscans, masters of divination in the ancient world, developed haruspicy—the reading of animal entrails, particularly the liver. They believed the liver was the seat of the soul and mapped it like a celestial chart, each section corresponding to a different region of the heavens."
A student looked slightly green. Another whispered something to her.
"The Greeks preferred a more... dramatic approach. At Dodona, priests interpreted the rustling of oak leaves. At Delphi, the Pythia sat upon a tripod and delivered prophecies in a frenzied state, believed to be inspired by vapours rising from a chasm in the earth. The Romans, practical as ever, combined Etruscan techniques with Greek oracles and consulted the flight of birds—augury—before any major undertaking."
Sybill paused, looking at the students, all were looking at her, some were taking notes.
"But perhaps the most feared and misunderstood branch of divination is necromancy. The word itself comes from the Greek nekros—dead body—and manteia—divination. In its earliest form, necromancy was not about raising the dead to walk among us. It was about summoning spirits to ask them questions. The dead, after all, had already crossed the veil. Who better to ask about what lies beyond?"
A few students shifted uncomfortably. Harry Potter's quill had stopped moving.
"Ancient practitioners would travel to crypts, battlefields, or places of execution. They would draw circles, burn incense, and call upon the spirits. One famous account comes from the Bible itself—the Witch of Endor summoning the prophet Samuel for King Saul. The spirit appeared, and Samuel delivered a prophecy of doom. So you see, necromancy was, at its core, a form of divination like any other."
She clasped her hands together.
"Over the centuries, however, the practice evolved. Medieval wizards grew less interested in asking the dead questions and more interested in what the soul actually was. They studied the moment of death, the separation of spirit from body, the nature of consciousness itself. These inquiries led down darker paths—" but she caught herself. She should leave that for older students.
A student raised her hand tentatively. "Professor... that sounds an awful lot like—"
"Like what, Ms...?"
"Granger. Hermione Granger. Like the Dark Arts."
Sybill nodded gravely. "Indeed. Any practice of magic, twisted into something evil, can become a root for the Dark Arts."
She cleared her throat.
"But let's continue. In China, emperors made decisions of state based on plastromancy—the cracking of turtle shells by fire. The resulting patterns were interpreted as messages from ancestors. And in medieval Europe, despite the Church's condemnation, divination persisted. Oneiromancy—the interpretation of dreams—was practiced by scholars and peasants alike."
"You may have heard that witches riding brooms is one of the worst-kept secrets from the muggles. But so is divination. You can find among them those who believe they have the Sight! They read palms, consult the stars, cast runes, and gaze into mirrors."
"So you see, Divination is not merely a classroom subject. It is a thread that connects us to every civilization that ever wondered what tomorrow might bring. It also connects us to those who wondered what comes after tomorrow—what waits beyond the veil. We will begin with the foundations—the history, the methods, and the philosophy of some of the major practices of divination. And then, we will experiment with them. Even though not everybody has the Sight, you may find a method suited for you."
Sybill glanced at Harry Potter, who, like most of his classmates, was writing again. She hadn't noticed how confident she felt.