s table, 
pressing close to Professor Trelawney's chair to get a 

good look at Harry's cup. 

"My dear," Professor Trelawney's huge eyes opened dramatically, 

"You have the Grim." 

"The what?" said Harry. 

He could tell that he wasn't the only one who didn't understand; Dean 
Thomas shrugged at him and Lavender Brown looked puzzled, but nearly 
everybody else clapped their hands to their mouths in horror. 

"The Grim, my dear, the Grim!" cried Professor Trelawney, who looked 
shocked that Harry hadn't understood. "The giant, spectral dog that 
haunts churchyards! My dear boy, it is an omen -- the worst omen -- of 
death!" 

Harry's stomach lurched. That dog on the cover of Death Omens in 
Flourish and Blotts -the dog in the shadows of Magnolia Crescent... 
Lavender Brown clapped her hands to her mouth too. Everyone was looking 
at Harry, everyone except Hermione, who had gotten up and moved around 
to the back of Professor Trelawney's chair. 

"I don't think it looks like a Grim," she said flatly. 

Professor Trelawney surveyed Hermione with mounting dislike. 

"You'll forgive me for saying so, my dear, but I perceive very little 
aura around you. Very little receptivity to the resonances of the 

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future." Seamus Finnigan was tilting his head from side to side. 

"It looks like a Grim if you do this," he said, with his eyes almost 
shut, "but it looks more like a donkey from here," he said, leaning to 
the left. 

"When you've all finished deciding whether I'm going to die Or not!" 
said Harry, taking even himself by surprise. Now nobody seemed to want 
to look at him. 

"I think we will leave the lesson here for today," said Professor 
Trelawney in her mistiest voice. "Yes... please pack away your 
things...." 

Silently the class took their teacups back to Professor Trelawney, 
packed away their books, and closed their bags. Even Ron was avoiding 
Harry's eyes. 

"Until we meet again," said Professor Trelawney faintly, "fair fortune 
be yours. Oh, and dear" -- she pointed at Neville -- "you'll be late 
next time, so mind you work extra-hard to catch up." 

Harry, Ron, and Hermione descended Professor Trelawney's ladder and the 
winding stair in silence, then set off for Professor McGonagall's 
Transfiguration lesson. It took them so long to find her classroom that, 
early as they had left Divination, they were only just in time. 

Harry chose a seat right at the back of the room, feeling as though he 
were sitting in a very bright spotlight; the rest of the class kept 
shooting furtive glances at him, as though he were about to drop dead at 
any moment. He hardly heard what Professor McGonagall was telling them 
about Animagi (wizards who could transform at will into animals), and 
wasn't even watching when she transformed herself in front of their eyes 
into a tabby cat with spectacle markings around her eyes. 

"Really, what has got into you all today?" said Professor McGonagall, 
turning back into herself with a faint pop, and staring around at them 
all. "Not that it matters, but that's the first time my transformation's 
not got applause from a class." 

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Everybody's heads turned toward Harry again, but nobody spoke. Then 
Hermione raised her hand. 

"Please, Professor, we've just had our first Divination class, and we 
were reading the tea leaves, and --" 

"Ah, of course," said Professor McGonagall, suddenly frowning. 

"There is no need to say any more, Miss Granger. Tell me, which of you 
will be dying this year?" 

Everyone stared at her. 

"Me," said Harry, finally. 

"I see," said Professor McGonagall, fixing Harry with her beady eyes. 
"Then you should know, Potter, that Sibyll Trelawney has predicted the 
death of one student a year since she arrived at this school. None of 
them has died yet. Seeing death omens is her favorite way of greeting a 
new class. If it were not for the fact that I never speak ill of my 
colleagues --" 

Professor McGonagall broke off, and they saw that her nostrils had gone 
white. She went on, more calmly, "Divination is one of the most 
imprecise branches of magic. I shall not conceal from you that I have 
very little patience with it. True Seers are very rare, and Professor 
Trelawney --" 

She stopped again, and then said, in a very matter-of-fact tone, "You 
look in excellent health to me, Potter, so you will excuse me if I don't 
let you off homework today. I assure you that if you die, you need not 
hand it in." 

Hermione laughed. Harry felt a bit better. It was harder to feel scared 
of a lump of tea leaves away from the dim red light and befuddling 
perfume of Professor Trelawney's classroom. Not everyone was convinced, 
however. Ron still looked worried, and Lavender whispered, "But what 
about Neville's cup?" 

When the Transfiguration class had finished, they joined the crowd 

87 



thundering toward the Great Hall for lunch. 


"Ron, cheer up," said Hermione, pushing a dish of stew toward him. "You 
heard what Professor McGonagall said." 
Ron spooned stew onto his plate and picked up his fork but didn't start. 
"Harry," he said, in a low, serious voice, "You haven't seen a great 


black dog anywhere, have you?" 
"Yeah, I have," said Harry. "I saw one the night I left the Dursleys'. " 
Ron let his fork fall with a clatter. 
"Probably a stray," said Hermione calmly. 
Ron looked at Hermione as though she had gone mad. 
"Hermione, if Harry's seen a Grim, that's -- that's bad," he said. "My 


-- my uncle Bilius saw one and -- and he died twenty-four hours later!" 
"Coincidence," said Hermione airily, pouring herself some pumpkin juice. 
"You don't know what you're talking about!" said Ron, starting to get 


angry. "Grims scare the living daylights out of most wizards!" 
"There you are, then," said Hermione in a superior tone. "They see the 
Grim and die of fright. The Grim's not an omen, it's the cause of death! 


And Harry's still with us because he's not stupid enough to see one and 
think, right, well, I'd better kick the bucket then!" 
Ron mouthed wordlessly at Hermione, who opened her bag, took out her new 


Arithmancy book, and propped it open against the juice jug. 


"I think Divination seems very woolly," she said, searching for her 
page. "A lot of guesswork, if you ask me." 
"There was nothing woolly about the Grim in that cup!" said Ron hotly. 
"You didn't seem quite so confident when you were telling Harry it was a 


88 



sheep," said Hermione coolly. 

"Professor Trelawney said you didn't have the right aura! You just don't 
like being bad at something for a change!" 

He had touched a nerve. Hermione slammed her Arithmancy book down on the 
table so hard that bits of meat and carrot flew everywhere. 

"If being good at Divination means I have to pretend to see death omens 
in a lump of tea leaves, I'm not sure I'll be studying it much longer! 
That lesson was absolute rubbish compared with my Arithmancy class!" 

She snatched up her bag and stalked away. 

Ron frowned after her. 

"What's she talking about?" he said to Harry. "She hasn't been to an 
Arithmancy class yet." 

Harry was pleased to get out of the castle after lunch. Yesterday's rain 
had cleared; the sky was a clear, pale gray, and the grass was springy 
and damp underfoot as they set off for their first ever Care of Magical 
Creatures class. 

Ron and Hermione weren't speaking to each other. Harry walked beside 
them in silence as they went down the sloping lawns to Hagrid's hut on 
the edge of the Forbidden Forest. It was only when he spotted three 
only-too- familiar backs ahead of them that he realized they must be 
having these lessons with the Slytherins. Malfoy was talking animatedly 
to Crabbe and Goyle, who were chortling. Harry was quite sure he knew 
what they were talking about. 

Hagrid was waiting for his class at the door of his hut. He stood in his 
moleskin overcoat, with Fang the boarhound at his heels, looking 
impatient to start. 

"C'mon, now, get a move on!" he called as the class approached. "Got a 
real treat for yeh today! Great lesson comin' up! Everyone here? Right, 
follow me!" 

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For one nasty moment, Harry thought that Hagrid was going to lead them 
into the forest; Harry had had enough unpleasant experiences in there to 
last him a lifetime. However, Hagrid strolled off around the edge of the 
trees, and five minutes later, they found themselves outside a kind of 
paddock. There was nothing in there. 

"Everyone gather 'round the fence here!" he called. "That's it -- make 
sure yeh can see -- now, firs' thing yeh'll want ter do is open yer 
books --" 

"How?" said the cold, drawling voice of Draco Malfoy. 

"Eh?" said Hagrid. 

"How do we open our books?" Malfoy repeated. He took out his copy of The 
Monster Book of Monsters, which he had bound shut with a length of rope. 
Other people took theirs out too; some, like Harry, had belted their 
book shut; others had crammed them inside tight bags or clamped them 
together with binder clips. 

"Hasn' -- hasn' anyone bin able ter open their books?" said Hagrid, 
looking crestfallen. 

The class all shook their heads. 

"Yeh've got ter stroke 'em," said Hagrid, as though this was the most 
obvious thing in the world. "Look --" 

He took Hermione's copy and ripped off the Spellotape that bound it. The 
book tried to bite, but Hagrid ran a giant forefinger down its spine, 
and the book shivered, and then fell open and lay quiet in his hand. 

"Oh, how silly we've all been!" Malfoy sneered. "We should have stroked 
them! why didn't we guess!" 

"I -- I thought they were funny," Hagrid said uncertainly to Hermione. 

"Oh, tremendously funny!" said Malfoy. "Really witty, giving us books 
that try and rip our hands off!" 

