[M. B. Montgomery]

Professor Montgomery carried a tray of tea glasses and plates into the divination classroom. It was a Friday afternoon and his first week of teaching his new subject now lay behind him. The experience had been illuminating to say the least. Teaching Divination was nothing like teaching Defense Against The Dark Arts. During his previous year at Hogwarts nobody had questioned if the subject he taught was even real or if it was all just made up. His students had been respectful and were often outright excited for his classes. Divination on the other hand seemed to excite those with the least amount of talent the most. And then there was the fact that not everybody seemed to have the necessary magical talent. In each class he taught there were only a few he could potentially help on their journey while the others would be left behind. Defense was different. Everybody could learn some.
 
Still, he was determined to try to make a difference to his students and perhaps the one way to win some of the sceptics over was to give a practical demonstration. He'd never quite done anything like it. His power was latent and fickle at best. Visions never came as steadily as they did for his mother, though in recent times they'd at least become more frequent. He didn't know if that was because he tried to practise more or because he was only coming into this power now. He suspected the latter. It was not unusual for seers only to gain proficiency later in life. Really, another argument why teaching Divination at school was maybe not all that effective.

He pushed the thought away. A house elf appeared in the classroom and carried in a large jug of a warm, frothy, light blue liquid. It smelled of honey, milk, sweet anchan powder and cardamom. To go with it there were bowls of berries, cookies and a few blueberry swirls. It would be a nice little afternoon party if anything.

Professor Montgomery pointed his wand at the classroom furniture. Tables and desks morphed into rugs, ottomans, plumb cushions and Moroccan pouffes. That was much more like it. Next he poured some of the blue liquid into a couple of the tea glasses to be ready for his guests. He wondered idly who would come. He'd deliberately left the invitation open. He was sure there would be some of his students, but perhaps some of the students not signed up for his class would come as well and maybe, just maybe, a particular sceptic the professor cared about would be in attendance as well. 

[Harold Prendergast]

It was a pleasant enough Friday afternoon, unfortunately owing to some circumstances that Harold should have rather preferred not to be the case, he found himself cooped up in the Arithmancy classroom on the seventh floor, holding detention. It was not his preferred venue for what was otherwise a pleasant afternoon. But student discipline was required, and Harold was old-fashioned enough to believe in instilling a little discipline was good for students - if not over-enthusiastically wielded. Spare the rod and spoil the child and suchlike.

He had just started writing the assignment on the chalkboard for the students to carry out when his pocket-watch made a rather insistant, if agreeable-sounding, chime.

"Oh, Merlin," he said under his breath. "I rather promised I would be somewhere else."

In a manner most unlike him, Harold turned to the detainees, cleared the chalkboard with a gesture. "Well, unfortunately - or perhaps rather more fortunately in your case - I made a promise I should rather be somewhere else. But since I cannot simply let you go, you shall just have to come with me."

Gathering his things, Harold looked at his student projects, so to speak. "We shall be visiting Professor Montgomery, who will be performing what he outlines as a practical demonstration of divination - he is from a family of Seers, so I am given to understand. If the subject is potentially of interest, then perhaps you will learn something and have your horizons broadened, but if it does not interest you, then perhaps you will learn something anyway."

"Divination is taught in the North Tower, and we have a good ten minutes ahead of us. Come along!"

[Samuel Rivers]

As beginnings of the school year went this one wasn't the greatest. It barely started and Sam was already sitting in detention. And the worst thing was that Sam felt really hard that it wasn't fair at all! Sure, he did try to blast the other student with his wand but it was purely in defence! And now the other one was running free and Sam had to sit here. Then again he doubted very much this particular student will bother him again, otherwise, he wouldn't miss next time. He sighed a bit heavier than he intended before doing his best to pretend he was paying attention to what he was supposed to do. Only for his already failing attention was interrupted by a sudden sound.

It was funny that even the professors forgot things, but Sam didn't feel like pointing that out was a good idea. He again sighed when he learned they would have to move into the North Tower to sit in a divination class. Sure, magic was real but divination? Seriously? Felt like the horoscopes his mother, used to read in newspapers every morning. "Prophecies" vague enough to fit into any possible situation - there was nothing attractive about that. Will they be reading from a book of dreams? Or trying to read tea leaves? The more he thought about it the more ridiculous it sounded. And for some reason, Sam felt as if the professor didn't have a high opinion of it either. Then again Sam might just project his disbelief on other people.

"I wonder if he sees this coming..." he muttered under his breath as he was packing the last of his things.

It probably wasn't smart but he couldn't resist making fun of divination. And since this professor was supposed to be a seer nothing of this should be a surprise for him, should it? Sam knew he had to pay close attention to the reaction of professor Montgomery - it should tell him exactly how great of a seer he really was.

[M. B. Montgomery]

Sid smiled as Amelie, one of his seventh year students, entered the classroom. They'd shared some pleasant conversations about divination throughout the last year and he was deeply appreciative of her kindness and keen interest. He had to stop himself from giving the girl a hug, but he was quite relieved that at least one person sympathetic to his cause had come.

Though he sometimes wished for insight on the mundane day to day details of what was to come,  predicting his own future was always much harder than see for everybody else. He suspected that his mother was correct in saying that emotion had a way of clouding one's vision. Those things that mattered to him personally, often remained elusive. Perhaps, with sufficient time, that could change.

He handed Amelie one of the drinks and started making some small talk. It was then that Harold entered in the company of some students. Truthfully, with all that had been said between the two them of them lately, Sid hadn't been sure if his friend and colleague would come. He excused himself from his conversation with Amelie, smoothed over the fabric of his white robe and summoned the tray with blue-purple drinks to his hand.

"Hal," he said warmly. "I'm so glad you could make it. The stars wouldn't tell me a thing." Not that he had expected them too, but perhaps it would make his friend laugh. "And I see you brought your arithmancers with you. Afraid you can't debunk me without help?" He gave the students a bright smile and handed out drinks to everybody. "Make yourselves comfortable please. There's some cookies and pastries for you to dig into. I hope that's a small compensation for the late slot on a Friday." His eyes fell on a Slytherin boy not usually in his class. "Guess you've just gotten lucky this afternoon." He winked and then returned his attention to Professor Prendergast once more.

"So while we're waiting for Mr Blishwick of Ravenclaw to join us , there is something I wanted to tell you. Your green cup won't be in the library when you lose it, but in the kitchens instead." He doubted this prediction would convince his colleague, but Sid couldn't deny that it was rather fun to push Harold's buttons. Just thinking of the counterargument he was about to get made him feel happy and excited.

At last three more students entered the room and while Sid wasn't sure this was everyone, he rather thought that it was enough to begin.

"Well," he cleared his throat, "thank you all for being here this afternoon. As promised I will try to take a look at the future with all of you. Can I ask for a first volunteer who wouldn't mind me taking a closer look. Perhaps, we can sit down over there on those pouffes."

[Harold Prendergast]

Harold was a little out of puff by the time he'd made it to the North Tower - those stairs were rather plentiful and more than he necessarily cared for in a hurry, and he was of course not as fit or energetic as the students accompanying him, but all in all they had made reasonable time and, judging by his friend's reaction, not yet late.

"We're, uh, not late, are we?"

Sid had started some preparations, and made a comment about the stars and Harold smiled. "The stars rarely tell me anything either, but I gather the centequines in the forest do rather swear by them, shall we say. As for my students, I am rather afraid they are here by virtue of being in detention for acting out, and were going to spend it with me in the Arithmancy classroom doing some paperwork, but I was reminded that I had agreed to be here, and so I am."

He hoped it would not appear rude that he was, essentially, accidentally treating the lecture as a punishment, though he was certain his friend would have encountered enough disbelievers to understand.

Then Sid said something else - something about a Ravenclaw that was coming and what sounded suspiciously like a prediction about his green cup.

"Not in the library? But my green cup is always in the library. I drink from it in my evening read." It wouldn't hurt to let the students know that one of the professors was in the library after normal hours, it might dissuade them from trying something, but it was mostly mumbled to himself as the last of the students came in.

Harold had settled on a pouffe, carefully at the outer edge of the gathering, he was most interested in watching a student go first, at Sid's invitation.

[Julia Yaxley]

Julia trailed after Professor Prendergast to the Divination classroom. It was an interesting-looking room at least, and certainly looked more comfortable than the arithmancy chairs at the least. She hadn't been here before; as a second year, she hadn't yet chosen her elective modules. But in terms of getting through detention, she might have scored a win.

Sam Rivers was there as well. He was one of the other Slytherin second years, but not one she knew well. He was one of the few in the House who didn't have so distinguished a family lineage. But he was at least a fellow Slytherin, and also in detention. She sat down next to him, with an eye on Professor Prendergast in case he made her move.

There was a tray of blueberry swirls on the table next to her. She ate one contentedly.

Julia had black hair scraped back from her mischievous, slightly pointed face. She'd gotten detention for releasing a box of transfigured hedgehogs into the Gryffindor Quidditch team changing rooms. The plan had been to get out of there well ahead of time, and for the hedgehogs to all be inoffensive teacups by the time any Professor came to investigate the commotion. Unfortunately the Gryffindor team had come down to practise early, and their head of house had been with them. The subsequent hedgehog panic had been worth it, as the spiny animals scuttled back and forth to avoid capture, but Julia had been in detention before she could finish laughing.

The Divination teacher cut a quietly imposing figure at the front. He didn't look as showy to Julia as many of the other teachers, but there was an...assuredness to him that spoke of experience.

When he asked for a volunteer, she nudged Sam, talking a little too loudly around a mouthful of blueberry swirl. "You should do it. Go on."

[Samuel Rivers]

It was a bit further than he expected but they finally arrived to the Divination classroom. It looked surprisingly welcoming, with drinks and snacks and comfy-looking pouffes. This certainly wasn't the worst place for detention, even if Sam still felt that it was quite unfair he was here in the first place.

He tried to put on a smile when professor Montgomery spoke to him. "I suppose so, sir," he replied even if at this hour on Friday he had completely different plans.

Sitting down he took a sip from his drink and was a bit surprised that Julia sat next to him. He didn't know her that well though he could say that about pretty much all of his fellow students. He didn't socialize in his first year which lead to being the odd one out in all the classes. He might have some optimism for this school year, then again he was in detention right at the beginning of it so yeah, there was that. Her suggestion to go first didn't thrill him - not only because he didn't believe in predicting powers of divination but also because he felt a bit nervous in front of a class filled with older students. Then again Julia said it way too loud and sitting there silently was getting a bit too awkward for his taste.

He raised his hand, waiting to speak. "Uh... what will that entail, sir?" he asked. "I... guess I can give it a try..." he was hardly enthusiastic about it but someone had to go first.

[Robin Carter]

Okay. So what if Robin had already gotten detention at the beginning of the school year. It wasn't that big of a deal, she had just been up past curfew... and maybe she and her friends had been by the lake at that time which might have been dangerous, but still. They had all known the risk of getting detention, they had just assumed they would serve detention together. They did not. Robin tapped her finger on the desk, waiting for her assignment. It never came though, as they were supposed to assist a demonstration of Divination. She had never taken divination, so she was quite intrigued. Robin had heard that it was all bullshit though. She herself found that hard to believe, because if Hogwarts taught it then that must count for something.

The classroom was quite... homely and she decided that she probably should have chosen Divination in third year after all as she sat down on a pouffe. A younger Slytherin student volunteered for the Professor to take a closer look, but he didn't seem all that enthusiastic about it. Ah yes, peer pressure. While she would never admit it, that might have been a factor in her decision to hang out by the lake after curfew. The girl that had suggested he volunteered was a Slytherin too, probably a second or third year. Robin grinned; she was genuinely interested in what would follow and leaned forward ever so slightly. Would the professer predict his death? His career? Or maybe it would just be a casual thing, like that he would wake up early the next day.

[M. B. Montgomery]

Professor Montgomery was glad when his colleague volunteered first rather than one of his students. While he wouldn't have minded making a prediction for one of them, he was worried they might be a little intimidated by his methods. British witches and wizards usually assumed that reading tea leaves or gazing into a crystal ball was all there was to unfogging the future. They really couldn't be more wrong. Complex predictions required sophisticated tools.

Once his colleague seemed ready, Sid reached inside his pocket to retrieve a small and squishy drawstring bag. He opened it and carefully emptied a good third of its contents into his hands. Pristine, almost white sand was spilling from the bag, glittering and reflecting the ambient light. Sid figured that at least Professor Prendergast would pick up on the fact that this was time sand. It had that distinct shine that was unique to magical sand.

Sid walked around the area where Harold and him had settled, while letting the sand slowly pour onto the floor, forming a thin, slightly unsymmetrical circle. He seemed quite comfortable doing so, his movements practised as if this was the umpteenth prediction he was making. He supposed that watching his mother and helping her on occasion had paid off in the sense that he didn't have to fumble through the preparation steps. He was confident about those.

With the circle closed he sat back down and looked into Professor Prendergast's eyes. He couldn't decided if the other man was just sceptical or if perhaps the notion that his future could really be foretold was more frightening than anything else.

"Don't worry," he offered softly. "The ritual can be quite dramatic, but whatever the result, we will manage to handle it."

Pointing his wand at the circle around him, he set the sand alight with magical fire. Blue flames flickered into existence and a cool breeze swept through the room. Professor Montgomery used his wand to draw magical power from his surroundings. His free hand reached for Harold's. He couldn't say why, but physical contact always helps with keying in on an individual.

A charged silence spread. Everyone seemed to be waiting for his next step or next move. Well, this better work. He pulled another thread of magical power towards him and he could feel the flow. The past was like the confluence of many rivers, while the future grew from it like the branches of a tree. Prendergast seemed to defy what Sid had come to think of as normal. Harold's flow was more of a pretzel, rather than anything resembling a tree. Maybe, he should have been surprised, but it seemed hardly odd to him that a twisted and complicated man had a complicated pattern.

He studied the swirl of magical energy for a while and allowed himself to become absorbed in the patterns and the rhythm. At last he felt something latch and his eyes went completely white.

"Harold, the ringmaster will fall. The target girl is throwing knives with deadly precision. She wants to go forward to see where her road leads, but to overcome her obstacles she will join join forces with the lion tamer. You will know him for real when you see his blonde mane and scar once again. He has the plan of the inn by the tree near the water. If you can catch a changeling you may be able to affect the situation. The attractive calamity of a suspicious apparition will light your way."

Sid's vision faded and he slid back into reality as the flames around them extinguished and the sand hand turned into shards of glass. Sid leaned to pick one up and held it out to Harold.

"If you hold it the right way," he said, "you'll see the lion tamer's face."

He then leaned back and looked at his group of assembled students.

"Would somebody else like to take a look as to what lies on the road ahead?"

He turned to his colleague again. "And I'd recommend you open the left window. You'll see why later on."

[Harold Prendergast]

Harold was most intrigued to see what Sid had set up, and while part of him had preferred a student take up the mantle, he had to admit some of those present were not... entirely prepared. And he supposed that it rather suited for a sceptic to go first, partially to demonstrate that it was safe and partially to demonstrate that, well, the results were educated guesswork at best.

He pushed his glasses back on the bridge of his nose, watching curiously as Sid poured the contents of a small drawstring bag into a rough approximation of a circle. There was an almost involuntary gasp; the content was fine, white powdery sand - with a sheen that fine, it could only be the kind of sand for the finest of hourglasses: time sand. It had some rather fascinating arcanochrometic properties and was... frankly, exceedingly rare! Far too rare for pouring on the floor - unless Sid had some other source that he, Harold, wasn't aware of. The man had travelled widely, as far as he could tell, and it was entirely possible he knew somewhere out in the wider world where sand wasn't quite so precious a resource.

After what he thought was a shade theatrical, Harold watched with fascination as Sid sat back down and looked into his eyes. Harold tried to hide his internal scepticism but it ran rather deep - especially considering his time in the Time Room and what he had learned, discovered and taught in there.

Sure enough, the theatricality ran deeply as Sid ignited the fire with his wand, the sands of time burned with a shade of blue Harold had always admired, and before he knew it, Sid was reaching for his hand. Harold offered it freely - whatever connection there was to be made, touch always made it stronger. That was magic he'd always known.

Harold could only look on as Sid fell into what must have been a sort of trance, as to Harold's shock, his friend's eyes turned completely white. That was something he'd not seen before, the look of a sight beyond sight. But if he was shocked by the appearance of that, it paled into a faded muted stillness as he began to hear words coming out of Sid's mouth.

Words that had a meaning Sid could not possibly know, let alone fathom, and came with an intonation that was not his normal voice. It was deeper, richer, more vibrant.

As each new statement came forth, Harold's reaction mixed from bemusement to concern to confusion, through the gamut of feelings simply because it was precisely the sort of message he would hear from the likes of his former employer, the Department of Mysteries, with secrets within secrets with riddles wrapped up in enigmas.

The ringmaster falling? Bah, no great surprise - the rumours over the summer had suggested as much as had his own digging on the matter - yet he had said nothing to anyone inside the castle except Albus, and Albus would have no reason to share this with Sid.

The target girl? Sylvia perhaps? Going forward to find her fate was the original excuse given for where he thought she'd disappeared to, after all. Joining with the lion tamer, though, that fitted in with his latter learnings, on the notion of the errant element within the Ministry and who they might be working for. The blonde mane and scar, though, that threw him - the chap he'd seen earlier in the summer on the day he'd visited, he didn't recognise him, but in a department where everyone had to actively demonstrate an ability to pose as another, it was hardly surprising.

The plan of the inn by the tree near the water... Harold shuddered involuntarily. That moment where someone is described as walking over one's grave. There was no way Sid could know about that, no way, not even as learned as he was.

The thoughts of a changeling and a suspicious apparition were just good practice; one should always rather attempt to catch a changeling if one is able, and all apparitions should be deemed suspicious until proven otherwise. Especially the ones on unfinished business.

The flames around them extinguished, and all that was left were glass shards, as Sid made some mention of seeing the lion tamer's face. Harold reached for a sliver of glass but only saw his own face in it, distorted by the curvature of the shard.

Sid let go of his hand and the room restored itself around them. Harold could only sit there, mildly stunned in the aftermath, as Sid encouraged a student to give it a go.

The worst part is that Harold was wondering if he was himself applying his own context and meaning to proceedings and that whatever Sid was receiving magically - though, curiously, not telepathically, as Harold would have noticed that - may have meant nothing at all in its own right, or it may have meant everything. He would need to talk to Albus about this, and perhaps Sid too, in due course.

Sid also mentioned leaving the left window open. Harold smiled politely, "Thank you, yes, I'll try to remember that." It was about all he could say, such was the shock of everything else.

After a few moments had passed, though, Harold found himself rather unexpectedly right as rain again. He turned to the students, "Well, that was a rather unexpected experience. I should ponder quite deeply over the things Professor Montgomery has said, I'm sure there will be some meaning in there, even if not quite obvious to the observer. Go on, see what mysteries you might learn."