Harry Potter: Dudley From LOTM - 350

Chapter 350: Ominous Omen

"Professor Trelawney, how can Dudley avoid this bad omen?" Harry asked quickly once he recovered.

"Yes, is there some way to ward it off?" Hermione added.

Clearly, his friends were far more anxious about the omen than Dudley himself.

"There is no way," Professor Trelawney said, lips trembling. "I only foretell. I cannot solve what I see."

"Professor, is it really a prophecy?" Dudley asked.

"Oh, my dear, of course it is a prophecy," Trelawney said solemnly. "Naturally, if you would rather not believe me, that is your choice."

"Time will prove me right."

Whatever doubts Dudley had entertained about the omen vanished at that. He mentally shifted Trelawney straight into the category of charlatans.

The Emperor card lay in his pocket.

With that in his possession, even a genuine Seer could not read his future, much less point at him and declare some vague misfortune. And Grindelwald, a master of prophecy, had suffered backlash when he tried to glimpse Dudley’s path. There was no universe in which Sybill Trelawney outstripped that Dark wizard’s foresight.

The only thing that still nagged at him was the way she had reacted to his name, as if she had sensed that the one he had given was not truly his.

Trelawney did not push any further. She drifted on into the rest of her lesson, muttering and waving her arms.

Today’s topic was tea‑leaf reading. In short: drink your tea, pour out the dregs, then tip the leaves into the cup and interpret whatever shapes they make.

In all his time in the other world, Dudley had never seen divination conducted this way. Watching Trelawney work, he saw nothing that struck him as genuinely mystical.

By the end, he had stopped expecting anything from the class at all. He treated it as an oddly staged tea ceremony.

The tea itself was not even good. Trelawney’s leaves were so foul that, by the time they were finished, he had lost any desire for a second cup.

At last the period ended. Dudley could not wait to get out.

The space was too cramped, the light too dim, and the smell of incense and boiled leaves cloyed in his lungs. He felt as though he could barely breathe.

"Remember, dear boy," Trelawney called as he headed for the trapdoor. "The omen."

"Do not forget."

Dudley did not so much as slow his step. He left with Harry and the others, heading for Transfiguration.

"Dudley, you really must not go sneaking off after Black any time soon," Harry said.

"You believe Professor Trelawney, then?" Dudley asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Better safe than sorry," Ron put in. "We should be careful."

"Oh, please. I am with Dudley. She is talking complete nonsense," Hermione said sharply.

"Only because she said your aura is tiny and you have almost no gift for sensing the future," Ron shot back.

Hermione glared at him so fiercely that he shut his mouth at once.

"You can all relax. Nothing is going to happen to me," Dudley said. "Maybe Trelawney does have some real gift, but I would not believe a single word of any prophecy she makes about me."

Harry and Ron fell quiet, though they still looked uneasy.

In Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall demonstrated a succession of elegant spells. Usually the class would have burst into applause. Today, the students seemed drained, and only a few half‑hearted claps followed each transformation.

"What is the matter with you all?" McGonagall said, frowning. "It is the first day of term, not the last. Must you look so defeated already?"

Eyes flickered around the room and, almost as one, drifted towards Dudley.

"Dudley, perhaps you can explain what is going on," she said at once.

"It is nothing serious," Dudley said with a shrug. "Professor Trelawney announced in class that she had seen an omen on me. A death omen."

He had not taken it seriously at all, but clearly the others had. Gryffindor was a tight‑knit House; when they heard Dudley might be in mortal danger, worry had spread quickly.

"I see," McGonagall said.

The moment his answer included Trelawney’s name, she understood.

"In fact, since the day Professor Trelawney started teaching here, she has predicted the death of one student every single year," McGonagall said. "And every one of them, without exception, is alive and perfectly well."

"So there is no need for any of you to fret. It is entirely unnecessary."

"Within the walls of Hogwarts, you are in the safest place in the wor—"

She broke off, coughed lightly, then went on, "In any case, Dudley is not in danger."

At that, the class finally relaxed.

"I knew she was talking rubbish," Hermione muttered under her breath.

It was obvious she was still stung by Trelawney’s dismissal of her "inner eye."

"Very well. Let us continue," McGonagall said and turned back to the blackboard.

At lunch, Hermione was still fuming.

"Divination is nothing but wild guesses dressed up as mysticism. There is no rigour to it at all," she said, flipping through the Divination textbook.

Harry and Ron shared a look and very wisely kept their opinions to themselves.

"Compared with Arithmancy, it is complete rubbish," Hermione went on.

"You are right, Hermione. So why did you choose it in the first place?" Dudley asked, giving her a long, level look.

He had almost forgotten what had happened earlier, but her mention of Arithmancy brought it all back.

Divination and Arithmancy were scheduled at the same time. Hermione could only have attended one. Yet from what she had just said, it was clear she had already been to Arithmancy as well.

That in turn reminded him of the way she had seemed to appear out of nowhere beside him before class.

"I suppose my brain must have been addled," Hermione said abruptly.

She snapped the book shut with a crack and stood up from the table without meeting his eyes.

"I think she just cannot stand admitting she has no talent for Divination at all," Ron said, watching her go.

Dudley did not answer.

He watched Hermione’s retreating back, thoughtful.

"What are you hiding, Hermione Granger?" he wondered.