Diviner

The Seventh Son

It seemed like ages since Rowena Ravenclaw had kissed him on his forehead back at the camp, proclaiming him a "Diviner", a Seventh Son. He had always been simply "Ron Weasley" to everyone. Just one of the red-haired Weasley clan's brood, nothing special. Always having been Harry's sidekick it got a little bit irksome at times. He had been able to tell when the disguised tapestry trapdoor at Slytherin's castle was bottoming out and had been able to save Draco from falling in although Harry and Hermione had been left to fend for themselves. It seemed as if he was always one up on people and could sense things were happening before they did. Yet this stuff never quite worked out. He had not been able to make any great revelations, or predictions. He had no idea how to nurture this art and fine-tune his talent. Reading a bunch of nasty tea leaves in Professor Trelawney's Divination class in his 3^rd year was not the best foundation for learning. Her awed expressions and huge glasses were enough to distract any student.

No he, Ron was not considered anything special by his professors, family, friends, and especially girls. It seemed as if Harry and Hermione were the only people who regarded him as an equal and valued him as a person. He often lay in bed at night wishing some terrible thing would happen to him, or someone else giving him the opportunity to dazzle everyone with a small amount of brilliance. He wasn't looking to blow people away, just get a little respect and notoriety.

These thoughts ran threw Ron's mind as he sat next to Hermione in Advanced Arithmancy class staring listlessly out a window at the falling rain. It had rained for days. Grey lines, splashing down in torrents on the castle windows seemed like road maps with no connections to anywhere. Lunch was coming soon, lunch always cheered him. If only something interesting were to happen. He was ready for an adventure with Harry. It had been a long while since they had done anything remotely exciting aside from playing Exploding Snap with Neville Longbottom in the middle. Maybe the fact that it had rained for nearly three days straight was putting him in a dull mood.

He was awakened out of his torpor by Hermione shaking his shoulder.

"Ron! Snap out of it, we're leaving, class is over! You can copy down my notes and our assignment later." She studied him quizzically with one of her thoughtful, can I help you, because usually I know everything expressions.

"That is the second time you've nodded off in Advanced Arithmancy. It is really a class you should pay attention in Ron, not everyone is allowed to take Advanced Arithmancy you know. You ought to consider it more of a privilege."

"I know, I know," he sighed. While Hermione was one of his closest friends, he was wishing she would just leave. "I think I'll go to the library after lunch," he said.

"Now I know something strange is really going on. What is the matter? I know, don't tell me, you are worried about the pitcher of pumpkin juice I spilled on your dress robes. I have apologized for that too many times now."

Ron looked at her as if she was mad. "I don't even remember that. Can't a person go to the library for something to do?" he demanded indignantly.

"Not you. Your routine is to go out with Harry and do a low flying Wronski Feint at the Quidditch Pitch, then skim your class assignment at the last minute, rush to Charms in a sweaty mess grinning disrupting the entire class." Hermione never sugarcoated anything, he thought. At least she could be counted on to tell the truth.

He wandered up the staircase to the Gryffindor common room. "Poppycock," he briefly said to the painting of the Fat Lady. She happened to be snoozing and he had to repeat it again for her. She looked rather put out at being awakened. "Professor McGonagall ought to hire some new paintings," he muttered. The portrait of the Fat Lady glared back at him as he passed through the swinging door.

"I heard that!" she spat out.

Ron continued on to the boys dormitory and dropped his book bag on the massive four poster bed. He dropped into an armchair and stared absent-mindedly out of the window. For a moment he considered skiving off his next class and just falling asleep to the sound of the falling rain His eyes followed a black raven across one of the stovepipes. The bird hopped along searching for food or something, he figured. He followed it along a rain gutter, and then the oddest thing happened. The bird looked straight at him, quite as if it recognized him. A feeling shot through his shoulders and into his neck. It was not intense pain, just a cold pang of realization. Suddenly the raven lost its footing and tumbled down the roof. It had been hit by a falling rain gutter collapsing from the rain's weight. He craned to see the bird, it fell onto its side, then clumsily recovered its footing and flew off into the showers, as if embarrassed.

"Blimey!" he yelled. Ron was excited. He felt like jumping around suddenly. He half expected the bird to return. He peered out of the window, sticking his head out into the streaming rain. It was at this moment that Harry entered the room, lugging his book bag. He looked curiously at Ron.

"I always knew you were a goofy git Ron, but sticking your face out of a window on a cold rainy day is really not all that bright," Harry joked.

"You didn't see, you don't understand...bird, knocked by gutter...I knew this..." he spluttered.

"Well, well. Did the bird talk to you and tell you to finally listen to those voices in your head Weasley?" he teased.

"No Harry. It's hard to explain, I'm not sure you would get it....not that you aren't sharp enough to get it, but I mean I can't describe it. Do you remember when we were in traipsing through Slytherin's Castle back in 5^th year? -and I saw that tapestry move and yelled out to you that it was a trap and not to touch it?" Ron's words spilled out hurriedly.

"Yeah," said Harry, confused but becoming more interested in what Ron was carrying on about. "Slow down and tell me what happened just now with this bird and the gutter."

"Well, I just saw this bird climbing around on the roof. Suddenly, he looked straight at me Harry, dead straight at me, and I got this feeling, kind of like a cold pain in my shoulder you know (he gestured to his shoulders animatedly) and then I could see him falling, or just knew he would get hit and fall. Something like that. Then that rain gutter hit him and he fell, but didn't get really hurt, just got up and flew off."

"So what are you saying exactly?" Harry asked quietly, looking very interested now. "Did you see in your own mind, him falling, or did you just figure he would lose his balance and get hit by a flying rain gutter?"

"That's the weird part of it. It was exactly like the feeling I had before you and Hermione went down the tapestry trap door and I tried to warn you..." Ron's face lit up now. His blue eyes flashed, and his cheeks took on a bright rosy color, contrasting with his wavy, reddish-gold hair. Do you remember when Rowena Ravenclaw said that seventh sons were diviners? It was as if I knew the bird was going to get hurt, and I should warn it. He looked at me too, which I can't quite figure out yet," he finished wonderingly. "You don't think I am some sort of nutter?" he asked Harry.

Harry looked thoughtful, then a playful grin spread across his face. "Of course I think you're a nutter!" he replied jokingly. But then his brows knitted together in a contemplative fashion under his glasses. "Seriously, I think we ought to sit down with Hermione. She knows all about this stuff and was with Rowena Ravenclaw last year when she labeled you one of those. It's worth looking into."

For every problem requiring research and thought they relied upon Hermione. She was a smart witch, far beyond many in her class, and not afraid of hard work. She could motivate people when a lengthy project needed to be done, and was great at knowing where to look up things. They found her at the Gryffindor lunch table, buried in a book entitled "Witches Who Do Too Much". Her thick brown hair fell over the book binding and loosely cascaded down her back. She summoned a carrot stick with a charm and chewed on it without realizing they had sat down next to her. At Harry's second greeting of a long drawn-out hellooooo...she finally glanced up and smiled at each of them.

"Sorry," she said closing her book. "Must be this rain, making me sleepy."

"Or that thick boring excuse for a book," said Ron. "I need your help Hermione."

"Call my book boring, then ask for help, typical male behavior. Just for that, I might not be interested in helping you." She tossed her head and went back to her copy of "Witches Who Do Too Much".

"Really Hermione," said Ron in the most polite apologetic manner he could muster. "I didn't mean to call you book boring. Would you please help me?"

"What's up?" she asked, still not taking her eyes from her book.

"I have a question about divination," Ron said.

"He's a nutter," put forth Harry who was in a teasing mood.

"I already know he is!" sang Hermione. "But what could you possibly need to know about divination?

Oh - does this relate to what happened our 5^th year with Rowena Ravenclaw? You do know that divination is one of the most imprecise branches of magic don't you? Professor McGonagall would agree with me that Professor Trelawney is a quack."

"You're a quack!" Ron angrily said.

"We all think she's a big phony, but Hermione, just for a moment listen to his story," said Harry.

Ron related all that he had encountered that day, the raven, the feeling in his shoulders, the fact that it felt like a similar feeling from before. He added that he would like to know how about going about finding out if he really was a diviner and if so, what it would take to improve his skills.

Hermione pondered this a moment. She had little respect for Professor Trelawney based on her lack of knowledge and talent in their 3^rd year at Hogwarts. She also shared Professor McGonagalls' feeling that divination was one of the sketchiest, cloudy pursuits in the magic world. But remembering back to their adventure with Rowena Ravenclaw and the time turner, she was prone to give the discipline some credibility. Her mind was awakening to a new project.

"Well, let's lay our facts on the table here," Hermione said aloud.

Harry and Ron gave each other a laughing sidewise glance. They marveled at how Hermione attacked a new scheme. Her approach was both scientific as well as subjective. She had the ability to incorporate elements of judgment they had never thought to do when she attacked a new problem as if it was a mathematical equation. Her solutions usually worked out properly too. Except in their second year when her Polyjuice Potion failed and she wound up with a cat face, instead of a Pansy Parkinson face. (Although privately everyone thought that the cat face was much better than Pansy could ever look).

"Ron, what time of day did you have this feeling?" she asked. She had taken out a piece of parchment and was busily inking her quill.

"Right after Arithmancy class, just before lunch," Ron dutifully answered.

"Describe the pain you felt. Was it binding, tense, cold or warm?" she implored.

" Gosh Hermione!" Ron exploded. "I said it was a cold sensation. How much do I need to tell you?"

"As much as you can," answered Hermione. "We want to be armed with enough information when we try to do our research."

"OK Admiral Granger," grinned Harry.

Hermione half-smiled demurely. "It is important to have facts straight prior to researching. It will improve the quality of our research and thus the outcome."

"Let's get going...Please," Ron added as an afterthought.

Hermione was like a teacher as she dispatched research duties to each of them. As she hadn't gotten on that well with Professor Trelawney in their 3^rd year she assigned the task of interviewing her to Harry as she did seem to favor Harry over other students. He was to find out what he could about diviner identification and authentication. Ron was to contact Sirius by owl, and ask if knew of any diviners personally, just in case Professor Trelawney didn't work out. He was also told to specifically ask about seventh sons and their role in divination. She set herself to her favorite job, library research. More than anything Hermione loved finding out about something by reading book after book. Ron and Harry had never quite been able to pinpoint how she managed to retain all the knowledge she soaked up. She was like a sponge, absorbing everything in her path. They all found that this trait had proven itself quite handy when they were faced with peril in one of their many wizarding adventures.

They split up from their huddle following lunch. As Ron had Care of Magical Creatures, Harry and Hermione went their separate ways. Harry went up to Professor Trelawney's classroom. The scent of her quarters had always sickened him with its sweet aroma wafting down, and also put him to sleep at times. He mounted the stairs to her classroom, and looked around. No one. Maybe she was in the staff lounge, or just taking a day off. He knocked at her office door. No answer. He knocked again, no answer. Not wanting to open the door to find her in one of her trances, he descended the staircase and decided to read his recent copy of Quidditch News.

Hermione settled herself comfortably in the library. Having free time before her next class, she decided to put some finishing touches on a Potions essay for Professor Snape. Following this, she scurried into the Humanities section and skimmed titles of possible books. Making a list on her piece of parchment, she wrote down some likely resources; The Diviner's Guide to the Orb, Tea Leaf Reading for Beginners, Intermediate Palmistry, Grim Friend or Foe? and finally a title she thought might surely be of use called Divine Numbers. She lugged her armful over to the reference table and snuggled into an armchair to peruse her selections. She had taken an instant dislike to divination during third year and didn't like to feel closed-minded, as she feared she was about this particular branch of magic. The clock ticked as moment after moment passed by. Gradually she came to terms with the fact that divination was not a precise branch at all, in the literal sense. It was more a gift bestowed on worthy individuals. She grew more and more relaxed as the clocked ticked off its minutes...

Hermione awoke with a start. Madame Pince the librarian, was gently shaking her.

"Miss Granger?" she heard her asking. "Miss Granger, it's two o'clock. You need to be thinking about your next class."

She instantly jerked to attention as Madame Pince wandered off. She remembered being very relaxed and falling asleep. She stared down at her book of numbers entitled Divine Numbers and suddenly grew very excited. She felt her face flush with energy. She was staring down at a page of a very old manuscript within this book at a picture with a very young wizard with wavy red hair. The caption at the bottom of the picture read; "VII Join With All In Our Triumph". In small lettering at the end, she was barely able to make out the initials RW.

"No it couldn't be," she thought. "It's too fantastic."

DIVINER