"Clatter!"
"Crash!"
A string of loud, jarring noises snapped everyone's attention away from Professor Trelawney.
Allen had flipped the table, both literally and figuratively.
He could have laughed off the many ominous prophecies directed at him. But of all things, Professor Trelawney just had to poke at the one thing he absolutely hated, the one thing that touched a nerve.
"I honestly don't know where you're getting all this doom and gloom from, Professor. If even half of what you said came true, Hogwarts might as well swap jobs with St. Mungo's Hospital. Judging by your predictions, we'd be producing more casualties than they do!"
Professor Trelawney rose to her feet, visibly annoyed as she glared down at Allen.
This was a first. She'd never been challenged like this in the very first class. Usually, her new students were already trembling in fear, waiting for disaster to strike.
"I'm afraid I must say, my dear, that you clearly lack the qualities necessary to study the noble art of Divination. Frankly, I can't recall meeting any student whose mind was quite so...mundane."
She shook her head slowly, as if gazing at some kind of pest, like a seductive fox spirit bringing nothing but trouble.
"Oh, so if doing well in Divination means I have to pretend I see signs of death in a pile of soggy tea leaves, then yes, what a noble subject this truly is!" Allen snapped back, utterly unapologetic.
"Mr. Allen Robint!" Trelawney barked. "Let me remind you, no matter how excellent your grades may be, you are still required to complete two elective subjects each year! If you don't take back your ridiculous remarks, you won't be getting any final grades from me!"
"Oh? Is that so?" Allen replied, casually beginning to gather his things. "Sorry, Professor, but if I recall correctly, I've already been granted exemption from exams in two subjects, and awarded top marks by default. So your final grade for Divination? Worthless. My mark is already an 'O', and it'll stay that way until my N.E.W.T.s."
He slung his bag over his shoulder and gave the professor a pleasant smile and a polite little bow.
"My dear professor, do remember to give me that 'O' when the term ends, oh, and for the full five years, including this one!"
This was, admittedly, a bit of a waste. Allen had originally planned to use that exemption for another subject. But given the situation, it seemed like a fair trade.
After all, watching Professor Trelawney's supposedly ethereal, otherworldly face cycle through blue, red, then pitch black, and finally settle on a kaleidoscope of color, wasn't something one got to witness every day.
Just as Allen turned to leave, however, a loud, rasping voice rang out behind him,
"It will happen this year."
Allen whipped around.
Trelawney, who'd been standing in fury just moments ago, now sat frozen in her armchair. Her gaze was unfocused, her jaw slack. At her feet, a toppled orrery had broken open, with miniature stars spinning wildly inside as if gone mad.
Was this a joke? Had he upset her so badly she'd passed out mid-sentence?
The sudden collapse of the professor stunned the entire class into silence. No one moved. No one even remembered to fetch the school nurse. They just stood there, dumbfounded.
Fortunately, Allen noticed her eyes begin to twitch and shift. He wasn't a medical expert, but at least it meant she wasn't dead. Probably. Hopefully.
Then, just when everyone thought it was over, Professor Trelawney spoke again.
The same raspy voice.
Not her usual dreamy murmur, and nothing like her typical theatrical tone.
"This year... the greatest terror shall spark its first flame across the plains... and spread into an all-consuming inferno. The gears of fate begin to turn. Only the stars speak truth, for I have seen blood and betrayal, death and souls... From this year onward, the stars, AHHHHH!!!"
Her speech was abruptly cut off by a scream of unimaginable agony, one that echoed through the classroom like she had just been hit with the Cruciatus Curse.
Before their very eyes, every ornament she wore, her oversized glasses, the countless chains and beaded necklaces, her giant emerald earrings, the bangles and rings on her arms and hands, all burst apart violently.
And that was only the beginning.
Wrinkles swept across her face like a spreading plague. Her once-long golden hair shriveled instantly, drying up like crops withering under the sun in the height of summer.
The moment was so terrifying that dozens of young witches and wizards bolted for the door, screaming in terror, desperate to escape whatever cursed nightmare had taken over the classroom.
••┈┈┈┈┈༓┈┈┈┈┈•••
The chaos didn't last long.
As soon as the first student ran out, Hogwarts' enchanted portraits had already relayed the incident to the headmaster.
Dumbledore arrived swiftly, followed shortly by the other professors.
Truthfully, there had been no need for anyone but Madam Pomfrey to come, but Dumbledore's presence alone was enough to fill even the most timid hearts with courage.
One by one, the students were led out of the classroom.
Only one remained: Allen.
Because, well, there was no doubt who was getting blamed for this.
The only problem? Allen didn't actually do anything!
He might've lost his temper, sure, but he didn't attack her! What kind of monster would he have to be to hit a teacher that hard over an argument?
In the end, the person who cleared Allen's name was someone he'd never expected: Professor Snape.
Alongside Madam Pomfrey, he conducted a magical diagnosis and declared that Trelawney had suffered magical backlash.
She'd attempted to channel a genuine, or perhaps partial, prophecy through the celestial alignment, but had completely overestimated her abilities. In the end, the stars struck back.
The good news was, she survived.
She'd need time to recover, but she would live.
Which meant Allen wasn't to blame. He would face no punishment whatsoever.
Much to Snape's obvious displeasure.
And so, the incident came to a close… or so it seemed.
But really, how could something like this ever be truly over?