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☑ Flickwick, Sophie +5, +3
☑ Kemp, Indica +5, +3, +3
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Canterbury, Polly Esther
Harris, Chloe
☑ Schlagenweit, Sasha +5, +3
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☑ Carstairs, Virgil +5, +3, +3
☑ Slant, Gracie +5, +3, +3

The Divination classroom was draped in it's usual mystique, the velvety fabrics from far off (and at times seemingly ancient) travels. It smelled of exotic teas, and for once perhaps not nearly as musty as it had been the previous year. Professor Elphick had spent a good deal of time nesting, getting the room exactly so, welcoming light through once dingy windows. Space had been cleared and seating rearranged into a semicircle around a raised platform. Center stage was an overstuffed arm chair, where a petite woman now sat with her legs carefully crossed, eyeing the straggling line of students to enter. A small group, but perhaps that was for the best. It would allow for a slightly looser construction of time, more discussion, ample opportunity to find the manner in which each of them could best achieve a connection to the fates.

Between slender fingers she rolled a clear glass ball, expression pensive, letting the lot of them settle comfortable at tables set specifically to only fit two. When it seemed every last one of them had seemed to settle in their new spaces she cleared her throat, "My name, if you are unaware, is Stella Elphick. You're all basically adults, and in my estimation here by choice, should you want to address me by my first name I am perfectly fine with that. If you feel more comfortable to address me as Professor it is equally acceptable," she paused letting her gaze linger for a moment on each of their faces. "I sense there are, perhaps, some skeptics in the room. After this many years taking the subject I had hopes this would not be an issue," there was a slight note of distaste to her voice but she simply set the smooth glass ball aside and stood.

"I would like to begin by first addressing what I believe to be one of the greatest myths perpetrated by the Wizarding world in general: having Sight does not make you a great seer, and not having it does not inherently mean you cannot become an incredibly skilled diviner. You should all know this by now, though if any of you are in need of a refresher course I do have office hours". Resting her hip against the char's arm, she lazily crossed her ankles then arms as she continued, "My hope this final year of Divination will allow us to discover the methods with which you are most comfortable working with, and in turn what that says about the sort of futures you're creating when you do so".

"But first a philosphial question for you," she paused, tapping her lip with the tip of a well manicured nail, "If we can see in to the future does that mean we can see into the past; not with memory charms or any other forms of magic, but to communicate through the same methods of divining uncover the past. Is Sight inherently one directional"?

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1. I created the class roster as best I could going through the 7th year Bios. If I have missed you or you just feel like picking up Divination feel free to post yourself in and I will add you to the list!
2. Points will be awarded for attendance, but not deducted - however since we're such a small group it would be nice if you could be mindful of posting order and timely with response <3
3. Points will also be awarded for participation and such as always.

Indica loved divination.  She didn’t love schoolwork, and she certainly didn’t like practice, but she loved class.  She could come in and try and figure things out, she could use different methods to get answers to questions no one else could and though she was not the sort of person who required knowledge of the future or all of the answers, but it was… illuminating.

When she arrived, she plopped down at a table by Sophie and grinned at her, making idly chat before the professor came in and started to speak.  She was a right babe, by Indi’s measurements – tall, lithe… dressed well and high heels.  Indi wouldn’t ever wear the things, they weren’t good for you, but she didn’t mind the look on someone else.  At least she’d be nice to look at, as opposed to some previous professors. 

Plus, she had a pretty positive look on students.  They were adults, which was cool.  No one told them that.  Well, no one at school really.  Her parents told her all of the time that she was an adult and her choices were her own now (it was awesome), but not everyone felt that way.  Indi thought she was a proper adult and she already liked this class better because of it. 

When she posed a question, Indi rose her hand, still bent at the elbow because she couldn’t be bothered to be one of those students that sat up straight and held her arm up like she couldn’t wait to answer, but she did have an idea about the past.  It related to the summer assignment she and Virgil had done.  “In Tarot,” she began with an easy smile, “the past is a common feature – in order to look at the development of a question… you sort of have to include the past.” 

She shrugged her shoulders, having not come up with an idea that was more developed than that.  “Does that count?” she asked the professor, or anyone else in the room, since she imagined this was probably something the professor wanted discussed.  It didn’t exactly have an answer, did it? 

Filing in with Indi and Virgil,[1] Gracie took a seat on the Gryffindor’s other side, passing by Sophie with a light, friendly squeeze on the shoulder. With the new year came new faces, and of them all Stella Elphick’s was one of the more promising.

Divination wasn’t Gracie’s best subject. Skeptical at heart about giving the future a more solid form before any of it happened, she often bullshitted her way through assignments—only completing them more sincerely after a sufficient amount of weed. Some beliefs were just too ingrained to uproot so easily, especially with a turnover rate like that of Hogwarts’. And the return of Professor Trelawney hadn’t helped any, either; for all her openmindedness and creativity, Gracie was still too grounded in a stubborn mix of realism and cynicism, making her resistant to the often bizarre and fanciful nature of the professor. After Professor Cosmo’s departure, bad habits had sprouted like a terrible weed, stifling what little acceptance the Slytherin had.

But to search out something more tangible, like a lost item or location, or make sense of something as ubiquitous as personality or the present... Now that she could believe, set out to accomplish with a more open mind than usual. And though this new professor seemed to be of the ‘past and future’ camp, too, she struck the girl as sensible, at least. Competent in a reliable, rational way.

Once Stella posed her question, Gracie paused, looking up from her scribbles on Virgil’s hand. No dramatic lecture about the Sight’s superiority or clouded Inner Eyes? Hell yes.

After Indi, she raised her hand in a similar fashion. “Dowsing’s been used to look for things, not just water,” she offered, idly running her tongue along her upper lip. “So divination has been used to find out about the present, too. And since crystals have been used to divine the past, and the Sight’s like, one of the methods… I think it isn’t. One-directional, I mean.”

1.	With Nuri’s permission!

Adult or no, Sasha would definitely be addressing Professor Elphick by the standard culturally acceptable form of address.  Titles, after all, had less to do with age and more to do with professional acknowledgement of a difference in status and station.  As long as Sasha was her student, proper reverent acknowledgement of their accepted roles would be the norm. 

"I sense there are, perhaps, some skeptics in the room. After this many years taking the subject I had hopes this would not be an issue.”

A slight flush rose in the Ravenclaw’s cheeks and he distracted himself for a moment by straightening his writing implements and making sure his uniform was still well-kempt.  What remained of their Divination class were probably well aware that he could be counted amongst the skeptics.  Divination had never been his thing.  It was too … wishy washy.  Too much a ‘soft magic’, as he liked to think of it.  Much in the way psychology was a soft science.  It was far too reliant on the practitioners ability to open ones self up to inner searching. 

But, he believed the theory behind what they did would prove useful in his future endeavors.  So, he remained, even though his abilities in the class remained textbook clinical at best.  But, maybe there was an as-of-yet unexplored method that he could work with.  Maybe this new instructor could help them all find a method they were comfortable with. 

He listened to his classmate’s answers, jotting down the occasional note when someone said something that seemed to resonate with his own perspective.  After a moment, he raised his hand.  “Out of curiosity, Professor, how far back are you meaning?  Most of the techniques for seeing we’ve explored has seemed very limited in its foresight.  They seem to focus on events within the near future; within one’s own personal future rather than generations into the future.  Like Ms. Kemp and Ms. Slant mentioned, there are methods to look into the past but Tarot, again, seems like it would focus on an individual’s personal history.  I would hazard to guess the archaeologists studying magical artifacts might employ divining techniques to explore centuries into the past.  Which would imply it has even more range into the past.” 

The issue with Divination, thought Virgil, was that he could never 'accidentally' fall asleep in the middle of class - with so few of them in attendance it was an impossibility. Professor Elphick (he might have called her Stella if she were older) didn't seem like she would give him cause to doze, anyway. He traced the scribbles on his hand unconsciously and listened to the different responses, breaking attention only to give Sasha an incredulous look.

Ms Kemp? Mr Slant? he quietly mouthed. Salazar's sacred socks.

Seven years wasn't long enough to grow accustomed to Sasha Schlagenwhatever. Virgil tapped the tip of his quill on the table and turned a little, addressing both the Ravenclaw and their teacher in his meandering drawl.

"If we're going to be discussing the philosophical, Professor, then it's just as valid to bring up the fact that the idea of one directional Sight implies linearity of time. Tarot decks are drawn to elucidate personal past, present, and future. We use artefacts to understand ancient civilisations. Sasha's assertion-" he emphasised using his classmate's first name here, "- that there is more range into the past reinforces linearity because it signifies better access to what has concretely happened."

The words tumbled out, more in a minute than he would ordinarily have said all week if not for lessons. Whether or not he believed any of the things being said today was up for debate but in the space of an hour's lesson it was easy to pretend. Playing pretend was halfway to belief, regardless of what the most stubborn of cynics among them might say.

"Personally, I think we could have as equally matched a range into what lays ahead. The only thing that prevents us is that the future provides no artefact." Virgil shrugged and leaned back into his seat, lazily eyeing the crystal ball that Elphick had set aside. "It leaves behind no clue besides that which we must search for ourselves. Sight isn't inherently one directional. For all we know, it might defy having direction at all."

He smiled faintly - aware that this was ambiguously textured territory, much like Divination itself, and they could spend all day arguing over the fine detail of divining in Time.

It was all Stella could do not to clap gleefully as even the most lacksadasical of students (she had been "warned") piped up with opinions. This was a bright blessing indeed! The smile that formed itself on her lips was well pleased, but the only indication as she perched on the arm of the chair and tilted her head in consideration to each of their answers. Her smile shifted to a smirk as the blue eyed Slytherin brought up the assumption of time as a linear entity, "Ah, you are a clever bunch. This pleases me, I was a bit worried when I left the Ministry there would be no room or time for the discussion and importance of both theory and philosophy. Having lived through Trelawney's brand of Divining, which, let's be honest can be a bit..." her voice trailed off as she tried to seek out a kind way of phrasing, "narrow, shall we say? My hope is to offer you a broader and, Merlin willing, more useful nature of the subject".

"The use of artifacts to divine the past, both distant and not so very" she spoke carefully as she moved around the back of the chair and brought out a gilded box roughly the size of a hat box, "is also known as Psychometry. Even Muggles are known to employ these techniques, though like the Magical community there is a great deal of speculation about whether or not it even works". Setting the box on the table situated next to her chair, she carefully lifted the lid, "I thought for our first lesson we might see how you lot do plumbing the mysterious depths of the old lost and found box from my office". She sounded almost amused by the idea, but not quite. "Some consider it a parlor trick, but I am of the mind that our past and our personality play heavy influence into the sort of images we divine, the futures we allow ourselves to see. Your chosen medium and willingness to explore not only your mind's ability but your magical connection to the greater universe will play a key role in the development of your ability and accuracy. Today, I'm lobbing you an easy A for participation. Now who'd like to start us off"?

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One by one, each of you should extract an item from the box, it can be anything you like from hat pins to tea cups, or marbles. It's up to you how well your character does, feel free to have them be terrible at "feeling out" where the objects are from, or even make up an elaborate story for item "history". Feel free to get creative with the method in which your character coducts the psychometric reading, the most common is to hold the object in the hand or pressed to the forehead.

Indi was actually enjoying listening today.  That didn’t usually happen – she zoned out much of the time, though it was hard in the smallest class that probably ever existed.  She still didn’t understand why people dropped the class, it was awesome and if you just… kept an open mind. 

Some of her classmates, she supposed, were not predisposed to relaxing and not freaking out about anything.  It was a wonder, as a result, that one of them had stuck through it all these years.  He divined like it was brewing.  Indi hated brewing: exact and scientific: boring.  Indi and boring did not mix. 

So, listening to Virgil was much more fun – he was… smart.  Like, truly smart.  Indi could not claim the same.  Intuition made up for some things and she was a hell of a lot of personality.  That usually made up for the rest.  So, when the Professor started to speak again, Indi turned her head back with casually raised eyebrows (perhaps the most alert and engaged she looked in any class… ever), and eyed the box she brought out.

Psychometry. 

That was a weird one, but Indi wasn’t against it.  There had to be some kind of skill in it, and Indi felt lots of things.  No one seemed to move to go first.  It was a long moment, kind of tense, where you knew nobody wanted to do anything but someone had to.  Never being one to be afraid of being first, Indi sighed.  “I’ll go,” she announced to the room and she could just imagine the relief that was felt.  She was a bloody hero, all considering. She pushed herself off the seat, her canvas shoes lightly scuffing against the carpeted ground.  “Let’s see here,” she talked to herself and peered into the box.   

Indi wrinkled her nose at the selection.  Normal, she was sort of disappointed.  No weird doo-dads or thingamabobs. Also nothing that seemed… historically relevant or important.  Just a bunch of normal junk… So, she took a creepy looking cat figurine out of the box – some of the paint remained, but the face had mostly worn off, leaving a smudge of pink where the nose was and like a quarter of an eyeball, which was, all things considered, totally weird. 

Holding it in her hand, it was sort of cold and kind of heavy… the paint job was really freaking her out.  Who knew a tuxedo cat with a worn away face would be that freaky…? Maybe… she considered and put the cat to her forehead.  A little too hard, she recoiled and snorted at her own stupidity.  Ow. 

Closing her eyes, Indi took a deep breath through her nose.  She should be seeing something… But it was just a bunch of inky black.  It was apparent just because Indi liked divination, she was not naturally gifted.  With that not working and another three deep breaths later, she opened her eyes and looked to the class.  This was a little embarrassing. 

So, to save face, she did the worst thing she could do: say whatever came to her mind.   “One more thing!” as though she was getting there… seeing something, and she did the unthinkable (the pressure of being in front of classmates made one just a little nervous) and put the cat’s head in her mouth. 

Immediately, the smell of peppermint hit her nose and there was a weed… waxy texture… and – Oh Godric! She took it out of her mouth immediately and tried to get the taste off her tongue with her front teeth.  Spicy! Pepper! Ugh!  “Whoever owned this,” she rasped, “was using a pepper cream…” very unceremoniously, she spit on the floor, “for like… arthritis,” knowledge from mum, “and ugh peppermint.  Old people!”

"Well, that's one way to do it," Stella tried to keep the laughter out of her voice. Indi was going to be an interesting one, fun to teach if maybe not overtly skilled. Half the battle was getting someone to open themselves up to possibility, and Kemp certainly seemed willing. Wish a swish of her wand the spit spot (which she was far less impressed with) was gone and she waved Indica back to her seat. "Next"!

Sophie shifted in her seat, pressing her lips together to keep from giggling. She loved Indi, never a dull moment with her around. Of course when no one else seemed that keen to repeat the little show, Sophie pulled herself from her seat and approached the box with some caution. Psychometry, she sighed to herself and tried to will herself to be brave. It was not the strongest manifestation of her ability but it was potentially the most painful. The first time it had happened was shortly after her mother's death, she'd picked up a pair of antique earrings from Ramona's vanity and been hit with the most powerful mix of joy and sorrow she'd ever felt. It had been terrifying, and unable to deal with the sensation Sophie had dropped the diamonds and scurried from the room.

The key to not embarrassing herself today would be to find the most innocuous item, she wasn't exactly sure how it all worked. She'd done a lot of reading over the summer but she wasn't sure how one tempered their reaction to the energy stored in an item. Maybe her mother's earrings had only hit her so hard because of how raw her nerves had been, maybe because of the connection she shared with the item itself. Taking a deep breath she decided there was no time like the present to find out as she closed her eyes and reached into the box and wrapped her fingers around a small round item. It was cool and smooth to the touch, her brows furrowed, "A compact"?

"Very nice Miss. Flickwick, though we're not playing Is it bigger than a breadbox" Stella watched the witchling with mild interest, as if she were waiting for something to happen.

Sophie opened one eye, lips pressed together, mildly embarrassed. Glancing down it was obviously a well loved mirrored compact. She ran her fingers over the silver casing and etched flowers, taking a deep breath, "I see... no I hear," she paused, eyes closed once more as her brow furrowed, "laughing? clinking tea cups, like... a ladies lunch. Um, oh, she's pretty," tilting her head a face sort of materializes in her mind's eye, young and pretty, with dark skin and smiling lips painted blood red, "she's young, maybe twenty? Her hair is in... oh what's it called, um not Victory Rolls, Queue Curls," she sounded almost excited, "it has to be, what, 1945 I think". Opening her eyes she peered at Professor Elpick, "she looks a lot like you actually".

"Interesting," Stella's interest was piqued, but she gave no facial indication of it. She waited a moment, to see if the tiny Gryffindor would have anything to add, when it became obvious she didn't Stella just cleared her throat, "You may sit down Miss. Flickwick. Now who's our next magical mystic"?

It took everything he had not to burst out laughing when Indi popped the cat figurine into her mouth. He lowered his head into his hands, shoulders shaking, barely aware of Sophie's turn as she went up to the box. The other Gryffindor did seem like she was having success on a more substantial scale however.

Virgil stood - with great effort - to follow the stellar act. He reached into the box and went straight for the bottom, and was surprised to come in contact with something... soft. A pause as he debated taking it: but really anything would be an improvement over pepper cream cats and cosmetic cases.

He pulled. Whatever it was, it wasn't small, and it dislodged a tangle of other objects as he brought it out. A red and cream paisley scarf. Virgil coughed, rubbing his nose gingerly as he shook it out. Not a bad looking piece. His gaze shifted from it to the others as he leaned against the closest desk and dramatically flung the scarf around his neck, then once over his shoulder until half of his face was hidden behind the thick material.

The perfume - heavy, oriental with a hint of spice - hit immediately. It was decidedly masculine. He blinked and closed his eyes to it, breathing deeply. Wondering how many years lay between the two wizards.

And felt, for a perturbing instant, a face leaning right next to him. Whispering. Virgil flinched. His stomach turned. There was a prevailing sense that this had not belonged to a pleasant man. "He wasn't a student. I mean..." a pause as the Slytherin stood straighter, eyes still shut, maybe shut even tighter. "The fellow who lost this. He's old. I don't... I don't think he was supposed to be here."

Everything in his mind's eye was a haze of blurred shapes and figures. The darkness of night time. Pyschometry was not an exact art but he felt blind going into it without the literal sight of his own Leglimency, relying instead on touch or sound.  Virgil especially did not like the tactile sensations he was receiving. Fingers around his wrist. Someone's breath on his neck. A woman's voice, hushed and angry, slipped in and out of focus like sounds underwater.

The scarf around his neck felt like it was coiling now although he knew it wasn't really. Tighter and tighter. He opened his eyes with a start, not quite meeting anyone else's gaze, and pulled off the scarf. "Quite enough of that. I think. Probably... the sixties." Virgil rubbed his neck feelingly, only guessing at the time of origin because of the make of the scarf. "There was an argument of some sorts. Heated."

His ears were burning from the exercise. "Would not recommend tasting it," he added to lighten the experience. "Godawful cologne." The scent didn't seem to want to leave his nostrils. Virgil returned to his seat, plopping back down next to Gracie, whose shoulder he immediately leaned against in anticipation of an imminent headache.

Unlike her friends, Gracie had no such compunctions about expressing her amusement. She laughed, surprised and bright, and even as it quieted her shoulders, too, shook with it still, her smile muffled against Virgil’s arm. Oh, Indi.

Quirking the other girl a grin, Gracie clapped, her quiet applause exaggeratedly dainty, but sincere.

She watched Sophie’s turn with interest then, amusement giving way to curiosity. She knew about Sophie’s Sight, but by intent or instance, hadn’t had much of an opportunity to observe. When the tiny Gryffindor proved herself able within moments by touch alone, Gracie sat back, properly impressed. Sight or no Sight, ability was still ability.

But then it was Virgil’s turn, and as he progressed her grin faded, replaced by concern; it did not look pleasant.  There was a distinct note of relief when he finally yanked it off. And yet…

A bit of tension lingered still. Perhaps if she didn’t know him as well as she did, or hadn’t been sitting so near… But she was, and she let his head rest on her shoulder without comment or question—only resting her own cheek atop it for a moment in wordless comfort. Apprehension for her own turn slowly welled in her gut.

Reluctantly she rose, approaching the box warily. If it hadn’t been for Virgil, it might have been her own lack of acceptance holding her back; maybe she would have had to fake it, or simply admit defeat under Stella’s watchful gaze, but that was nothing compared to a bad turn. Without Occlumency, she didn’t have a single line of defense, short of her own strength of will.

Taking a breath, Gracie leaned in for a proper look. It looked like normal junk, but even normal stuff had their own dangers—particularly that of familiarity. A diamond stunner might never feel the touch of an owner for more than once or twice a year, whereas a more modest item – safe or useful enough to tote around often, if not every day – would be more likely to soak up their essence through all that constant touch. It was what made the very idea of heirlooms as macabre as it was sentimental.

After a moment of deliberation, Gracie pulled out a pair of cateye sunglasses. Clearly vintage, they were a solid, snazzy black, and mostly round, like goggles. Gracie turned it over in her hands. How was she going to do this? She was not putting it in her mouth.

But simply holding it obviously wasn’t doing her any favors. She stopped, feeling like a tool. “Um…” What to do, what to do. She glanced at her friends, expression carefully blank—its very steadiness the only thing to hint at the panic beneath. What should she do?

Desperate, she plopped them on her face. And nearly choked on the sudden onslaught of sensation.

Smoke. Coffee. A glare of sunlight beaming through glass, a blur of color and people, a trickle of hair against her face and the phantom weight of– “She’s waiting for someone.” Behind the large, dark lenses Gracie’s eyes were wide, yet unseeing. “Her–” Husband? Friend? Lover? Yearning and loneliness settled in her gut, a bittersweet cocktail of feelings.

The focus shifted away from the view, facing ahead—a newcomer. Anxiety spiked. “She isn’t supposed to be there,” Gracie murmured, struck by a sudden pang of loss. “She understands, but it’s... hard. He’s her–” Recognition. “He’s her son.”

Want, regret, grief. It was too much. Gracie plucked the shades off of her nose. “She had to give him up,” she offered briskly, looking up at Stella with a too bright smile, and refused to say any more.

Stella watched Virgil with interest, there was something off about his reading but she wasn't completely sure what it was. The thing about Psychometry, unlike spells or potions so much of what Divining entailed was following your instincts and energy . There were lots of ways to do that and none of them wrong (though perhaps less advisable, such as sticking something you've never seen before in your mouth). It was clear the Slytherin had a knack for something, and would prove interesting to work with throughout the year.

Then came Gracie, whom she had heard a fair deal about from Dizzy after returning from their trip abroad. She felt a certain sort of gratitude that the 7th year had seemed to look out a bit for the overeager 15 year old while they made their way in the big wide world. She also noticed a real gleam of promise in Slant's eyes, a spark that with the right coaxing could turn into a real gift. Remaining silent as the girl felt her way through the first stages, seeming momentarily unsure but pressing on anyway Stella became more sure this would be her diamond in the rough.

As she finished, the only tell of Stella's excitement was a slight up curve of her lips, not quite a smile but more pleased than a smirk. Moving to take the glasses from Grace, her hands lingered over the girl's, a comforting gesture not meant to be overtly motherly and lasted no more than a moment between the two of them. Clearing her throat she stood as Gracie went back to her seat, glancing toward the clock, "I am rather impressed for a first lesson. Before our next lesson I'd like you to log some time with your crystals, see if the energy you felt today can be recalled and what they show you," she paused to glance at Indi, Virgil, and Gracie, "if you're uncomfortable with that, or simply don't enjoy working in that medium, the Tarot is an acceptable substitution. Document everything, during your readings, even the slightest hiccup or hazy inkling could prove useful later on".

With that she pulled forth a stack of leather bound journals, and moved toward the door, "these should come in handy for that express purpose, and I will be checking periodically to be sure you're utilizing them for something more than doodles of sleepy cats. Otherwise, class dismissed"! She felt fairly sure there were going to be a few interesting cases the coming year, and felt the former pricklings of dread replaced by pleased excitement.