By De Mouse

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STANDARD DISCLAIMER : All the characters used in this fanfic belongs to J.K Rowling and are used without her permission or knowledge. Please bear in mind that this fanfic is made solely for personal entertainment purposes and do not make any kind of profit whatsoever. The plot of this story is copyright to the author. Any duplication on this fanfic is prohibited unless the person has the author's permission.

WARNING : contains yaoi/slash. Hint, slash is just another word for yaoi. Definitely not for children. ^^ Draco haters please take one step away from the fanfic with your 'I hate Draco Malfoy' signs down. Grammar mistakes and spelling errors are to be expected. Thank you.

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Divination.

That was the exact word he would pick if he was asked for another term to replace the phrase 'boring'.

Harry glanced around the attic-like room, which was filled with Gryffindors. It was hard to make out anything since layers and layers of red scarves smothered the majority of light. A dim red glow shone through the tightly closed curtains, hinting of the sun that lay beyond the thick cloth. Just thirty minutes in the enclosed room was enough to make him feel sleepy. To make things even worse, his lungs encountered some difficulty trying to avoid suffocation while inhaling the heavy scent of perfume that hung in the air.

He had to fight the urge just to get up, shove the curtains aside and fling open the windows. That or the option of extinguishing the fire in the hearth, the source of the heavy scent. The dark haired boy pondered the possibilities of him doing both without losing any points to his House.

The sudden feeling of descending into the depths of the cushion he was sitting on assaulted his senses. Jerking out of his thoughts, Harry grabbed the edge of the small round table in order to stop himself from drowning in the traitorous cotton. Green eyes glared half-heartedly at the quicksand that was pretending to be an extremely fat cushion.

There should be a wizardry law banning these things, he thought while wondering if it was one of the many methods in keeping students attentive during lessons.

If so, he had to admit it was extremely effective.

Most of the students looked rather awkward as they tried not to sink into the depths of the numerous cushions. Harry made a small smile. At least he wasn't the only one suffering from that particular plight. For a second, he considered the option of freezing his seat with a very useful ice spell he picked up in the library but discarded it when common sense pointed out that solid ice was not particularly comfortable.

Once again he turned his attention to his work that lay on the table in front of him. All musing thoughts scattered, giving way to more negative ones. He grazed his work with another glare. The process was fairly simple. One just had to tip over a jar filled with odd looking twigs. After that, one had to read the symbols that the purple twigs made on the table. Anyone could do that with the help of 'Kilper's Divination book for Intermediates'. But unfortunately for one Harry Potter, the book didn't mention how to read twenty or thirty symbols mixed up in one whole messy knot.

Squinting through his glasses, Harry tried to determine if the bits of wood were actually forming a multi cross pattern or an odd sort of zigzag on the smooth surface. Then to his frustration, he could not find a matching pattern in his book.

Emerald eyes glanced at his bestfriend Ron, who had long since given up on reading his own patch of twigs. Instead the red head was trying to subtly push the twigs around with the tip of his wand to form a more understandable pattern. The wand accidentally nudged one a little too hard causing it to jerk rather violently to the opposite direction while it's companions made a short journey to the edge of the table. Something that sounded suspiciously like a curse slipped past the red haired's lips. Ron looked up and nodded towards Harry's own work.

"Found anything yet?" Ron whispered.

"Besides the point that I am looking at a bunch of twigs? No, not really," Harry replied with a sigh. For the thousandth time, the dark haired boy wondered why on earth did he choose Divination classes in the first place. He pondered if he should take Hermione's example and just walk out of the class. At that moment, Arithmancy was beginning to sound pretty tempting.

"What sort of future do your patterns tell you?" Professor Trelawney asked in her soft dreamy voice, floating over to the two boys. Her large glasses peered over Harry's shoulder. She had a little trouble completing the action since the dark haired boy had grown several inches taller. But nevertheless, the silvery heels that adorned her feet gave her a tiny advantage although she still had to lift her chin up a little.

"A rather wooden future. Very unpredictable since it changes with the slightest movement," Ron offered with a grin. His twigs on the table rolled as though to testify his statement.

"Is it a tragic death? Is there the sign of the Grim?" the professor continued, ignoring Ron. Her eyes made a quick survey of Harry's twigs and made a fluttery sigh of satisfaction. "Just as I thought."

Harry stifled the urge to groan. He rolled his eyes at her statement causing Ron's grin to grow a little wider. Since Professor Trelawney was standing directly behind him, she couldn't see the expression on his face. Harry made a half-amused and half-annoyed smile. The Divination teacher had a never-ending obsession of the Grim. He swore that she was more hard pressed in predicting his death than Voldermort was about killing him.

"You saw a grim?" Ron questioned rather doubtfully, gazing at the table.

"My dear boy," the professor answered with an air of prolong suffering, "You do not question a true Seer about this sort of things. But no, that is not a Grim. It is a sign that a person's life is about to change tremendously. For the better or worse it's unclear but I strongly believe that it will be for the worst."

Harry fought not to squirm under her gaze. He reminded himself that he had just turned 16 a few weeks ago and was in the sixth year at Hogwarts. Squirming was something first years did: not the supposedly refined sixteen-year-olds who were almost the oldest in the school. The dark haired boy's attention swerved slightly when another Gryffindor student called Professor Trelawney to the other side of the room.

"Tremendous change," Ron sniffed at the pile of twigs on the table, "Unless she was talking about You Know Who suddenly paying a visit to Hogwarts, there won’t be any -tremendous- change in your life."

"I suppose," Harry casting the innocent heap a glare. His mind worked through any chances of Voldemort coming to Hogwarts and came up with nil. Dumbledore, as far as he knew, was still in his office and would still be there throughout the weekend. Voldemort would never come near the school while the Hogwart's headmaster remained within the castle grounds. Nevertheless he made a mental note to keep his invisible cloak near, just in case.

"Hey, isn't that an arrow like symbol?"

"Hm?" the dark haired boy leaned forward until his nose was almost touching one of the wooden tips. It was rather hard to see anything thanks to the constantly moving shadows. Harry blinked at the complex pattern then shot his friend a bewildered look. "I don't see anything."

"Here," Ron's finger pointed at a tilting little speck.

Harry frowned harder. If he looked at it from a certain angle, it certainly did look like an odd sort of arrow. His other hand reached out and grabbed his Divination book. Paper sheets flew open as he searched for the right page. There was a small triumph exclamation when Harry did managed to get the correct page. Green eyes scanned the first few words, dropping quickly to the bottom of the book before coming to a stop. This time the groan that welled up could not be stopped.

"Something bad? Or something really bad?" Ron asked cautiously.

"You want to know?" the dark haired boy returned.

"Depending on how bad it is. If it isn't anything to do with a grim, then come out with it. I am way sick of hearing death predictions. Don’t even start with making up the most painful ways of dying. I am way out of ideas."

"A long period of bad luck. A slight exchange of ideas as source of much frustration. Events of dramatic change," Harry read out, his voice tilting towards amusement. "On any other day I would just throw this to the crap section…"

"But?" prompted his friend curiously.

"Two words, double potions,"

"Darn almost forgot about that," Ron muttered as he swept his messy pile back into the tall glass jar. "Well Snape will be in his own normal Snapey way at snapping at us. I don't think he will use any lethal potions on you. And if Malfoy does anything, I will knock his front teeth out. Frustration and an occasional fight I can see but I can't imagine any dramatic changes happening"

"What are we learning for potions today?" Harry questioned, cleaning up his own batch of twigs. He made a face while pulling out a stray one that was clinging onto the sleeve of his black robe. "Hope it's nothing to do with potions that turns something into a frog. Dramatic change that involves turning into a frog doesn't sit well with me."

"Nah, not frog turning stuff. Something to do with some sort of anti-Vampire potion," Ron shot him a curious look. "You don't really believe in a bunch of twigs do you?"

"No, that's not why I asked. I read the list of ingredients to make that particular potion. Not very nice things involved," Harry said, wrinkling up his nose. He twisted the lid of the jar close. Rubber made a little squeak against the glass. With one flick of his wand, the glass container floated to the shelf and gently placed itself between the rest of the gleaming equipment.

Both boys shared a similar expression, remembering all that could be found in the cold dungeons. Harry queasily thought of a particularly slimly ingredient that was needed to complete the potion. He had a very strong suspicion that he would be missing dinner that night. Professor Trelawney called up dreamily that the class was over and reminded them to write up their reports.

"Ah well, off to potions we go," Ron grinned, stuffing the parchment filled with his scribbled notes almost cheerfully into the pages of his Divination book. "Maybe we could ask Hermione to cast a reflect spell on you before the class starts."

The dark haired boy laughed in spite himself.

Harry then scooped up his books, following his friend down the stone stairs. There was an odd feeling floating in his stomach. It flashed a sense of uneasiness persistently. He thought about it for another minute. Green eyes behind the glass spectacles frowned but the slight line between the eyebrows faded as Ron told him the latest prank his twins were concocting for their joke shop. Hermione, with her large bag of books, joined them on the way to potions class. She informed them of the joys of Arithmancy making it irresistible for Ron to tease her on that subject. In response the brown haired girl snapped back good naturedly, reminding Ron of the time when he accidentally stumbled into the girl's bathroom.

Soon Harry completely forgot about the incident in the Divination room.

END OF PROLOGUE