Chapter Two
The drive was uncomfortable, to say the least. The kids had wanted to make the outing as Muggle-like as possible, which meant the adults couldn’t apparate to wherever they were going. So, instead, they all crammed into the magically expanded, yet still quite snug car that they had borrowed from the Ministry. Mr. Weasley grinned like a child on Christmas morning—which, Harry was sure, was the only thing that kept Mrs. Weasley from ragging on her children about their planning issues. Even now, he could see her jaw working at unsaid reprimands.
Bill drove the car into a large parking lot. Mr. Weasley climbed out tentatively and looked around. Harry followed Mr. Weasley’s example, glad to get out. His legs had begun to feel very cramped, not to mention the fact that Hermione and Ron had bickered nearly the whole way there.
“Don’t they realize what this means?” Bill asked grumpily as he climbed out, continuing a conversation from the car.
“Obviously, Fudge is still too thick to put two and two together. If the dementors aren’t following orders anymore and letting the prisoners escape, it means someone else has taken control of them. And that, of course, means Voldemort is back, and we all know that Fudge refuses to believe that,” said Charlie, following Bill out of the car.
Mrs. Weasley sighed. “Must you talk about this on your father’s birthday? We’ll discuss the death eater escapes later. For now, I want you all to just have a good time!”
“Yes, Mum.” Bill and Charlie exchanged exasperated looks, but obeyed.
“So.” Mr. Weasley looked back around at the kids. “Are you going to tell me where we are?”
“It’s a Muggle carnival, Dad,” said Ginny, grinning excitedly. “Hermione says they have rides, food, Muggle magic tricks…”
Mr. Weasley’s face lit up. “Muggles? Well I’ll be! Thanks, kids!”
They walked through the gates and looked around. Music was playing from game booths and children’s rides, and sticky smells floated from every direction.
“Wow!” Fred and George said at the same time.
“Let’s go on the rides!” Ginny pointed at the bunch of tall machines with lines of people snaking from their bases.
“No way, we want to play some of those games!” Fred looked like he was already planning ways to cheat at the ring toss and dart board.
“Maybe we could take a look at those tents over there,” said Mrs. Weasley. “They have all kinds of award winning art on display.”
But the others were already on their way. Fred, George, Charlie and Bill disappeared into a booth, while Ginny, Ron, Hermione and Harry wandered toward the sound of happy screams. Soon, it was just Mr. and Mrs. Weasley left.
“Well, my dear,” Mr. Weasley took his wife’s hand. “I couldn’t imagine a better birthday than spending it with you.”
“Ooh! Let’s do this one next!” Hermione pointed excitedly to a tent off to the side of the House of Mirrors. It was a gaudy purple, with a door of beaded strings hanging over the opening. The sign said, “Come discover your fate with Madame Kryssenia!” And, in smaller letters below it, “One telling at a time, please.”
Ron, Harry, and Ginny all exchanged looks. “Um, Hermione,” Harry said, “Wouldn’t this one be as much of a fraud as Professor Trelawny?”
Hermione just grinned. “Exactly! Only this will be fun, hearing the silly things she comes up with.”
Ginny tossed her head. “Oh, why not?” she said playfully. Harry and Ron reluctantly agreed.
“Great! I’ll go first, then.” Hermione moved the beads to one side with a hand and, after hesitating for a moment, walked in. The beads clattered together as they fell back into place behind her.
The fortune teller’s tent was exactly as Hermione had expected it. Heavy perfumes lay thick in the air, making the room stuffy and sticky. The only light flickered dimly from candles in the corners. There was a small table off to the right, where an old woman sat calmly. Hermione sat down in the chair across from the woman and looked up expectantly, a smile playing at her lips. On a usual day, she wouldn’t have even considered getting her “fortune” told, but today she was feeling strangely giddy and impulsive. Perhaps it was the overload of sugar.
“Hello, my dear.” The old woman, upon closer inspection, looked next to nothing like the Hogwarts Divination professor. Her hair was tied up into a messy bun, strands of brown hanging down around her temples. Her face was wrinkled but gentle, and a pair of tiny spectacles rest on her nose.
“Erm, hello,” Hermione said. “Will you be reading my palm, or do you have a crystal ball somewhere?”
The old woman frowned at the amusement she heard in the girl’s voice. “I will use neither, if that is alright by you. I prefer to look into the eyes of those who wish their fortunes told. May I?” She leaned forward slightly.
Hermione nodded, biting her lip. The old woman’s eyes probed hers, as if she was straining to look hard into her brain.
“My dear,” the woman said calmly. “You hide behind a mask you built for yourself long ago, when your differences separated you from the rest. Now, you reside with others of those differences, yet still you cling to that mask for protection at the slightest sign of things returning to the way they were. But that is not all that encourages it—you wish to prove yourself to those who believe your roots should judge who you are. You have a brave heart, my dear. You have courage as well as intelligence, and kindness as well as the ability to step away from a situation and look at it with a logical eye.
“As for your future, you will stand by your friends even when others take the easier path. You will have losses, yes, but you will bear them well. You will sacrifice much in the face of adversity, including being forced to mislead people who care very much about you—but in the end it will have all paid off, leaving you with happiness.
“Today, you will discover something that has been beneath your notice for quite some time. You will see an old enemy and nearly lose something dear to you.” The old woman nodded with satisfaction and sat back in her chair. Hermione gaped.
“Now, if you would pay the fee and send in the next person, I would be much obliged,” the woman said comfortably.
Realizing she was staring, Hermione shut her mouth and left the tent, her head swimming.
Ron walked in next, looking around the tent with interest. Hermione hadn’t said much, just told him that he was next. The look on her face made him curious to know what had happened between her and the fortune teller. Now, he wanted to see for himself what it would be like.
“Welcome, my dear. Please, sit.” The old woman at the table called over to him. He pulled out the chair and collapsed into it casually.
“Now, if you would look into my eyes, I will tell you what I see.” The fortune teller leaned forward.
After taking in the perfume-filled tent and garish rugs, it looked to Ron that this woman was going to be exactly like Professor Trelawny. He smirked and allowed her to continue. He and the others would definitely have a good laugh about this later.
“Ah, I see many shadows hovering over you, my dear,” the woman began in a misty voice.
“Well, it is rather dark in here,” Ron said with a straight face.
The woman frowned, but continued. “There is one shadow that especially darkens your mind—one that you have struggled with in the past. You fear being forgotten, or left out. You fear being forever overshadowed by those important figures around you. One day this shadow will influence you to abandon someone dear to you in their hour of need.” Ron’s face tightened. Instead of relaxing in the chair, his shoulders were now hunched and his hands clenched in fists. “But, you hold your family close to you. You have a good heart—loyal and courageous. You will go back to those dear to you, humbled and a better man. You will lose some, you will gain some, and in the end you will also find happiness. A happiness,” she looked at him sideways. “that you will find right under your nose.
“Today, you will have an epiphany, which will drive you to distraction. Do not let it get between you and your friends,” she said sternly.
“Erm, okay.” Ron quickly paid her and bolted from his seat.
Ginny walked cautiously into the tent, her nose wrinkling at the strong smell. Immediately, she felt a headache begin in her temples. Sitting down at the edge of her seat, Ginny straightened her shoulders and looked the fortune teller in the eye. The old woman had tiny wrinkles webbing out across her face, but she looked bright and intelligent in a way that somehow reminded Ginny of Professor Dumbledore.
“My dear,” The old woman interrupted her thoughts. “You… are an amazing young woman.”
Ginny blinked. “Oh, um, thank you.” Her resolve to not feel nervous in the presence of this strange Muggle was quickly leaving her.
“You have seen horror and you have seen pain. You have been hurt in a way others can only begin to imagine in their darkest nightmares. Yet, you continue to look forward with courage and a bright cheerfulness that leaves all those in your company feeling like their loads are a little lighter. Your fiery determination to not be overlooked has also set you apart from others. You learn from others’ mistakes and actions as you watch them with a careful eye.
“In the future, you will again experience loss. There will come a point in your life when you feel like your heart has been ripped from your chest and laid at the feet of your enemy. At this moment, bear in mind: things are not always as they seem.”
Ginny tore her eyes away from the woman’s intense gaze, breathing hard. She instead inspected the lacy tablecloth in front of her, following the intricate designs with a finger.
“My dear?” Ginny looked up reluctantly. The woman’s eyes were gentle. “You are done. The fare, if you please?”
She nodded and paid the woman, then got up to leave.
“Oh, and Miss Weasley?”
Ginny whirled around, shock and confusion registering on her face. The woman looked back with a small smile. “Not to worry, my dear.” Her smile grew. “He’ll come around.”
In a swirl of red hair, Ginny nearly ran from the tent.
Harry swallowed. The last thing he wanted was to go listen to a Muggle fortune teller insist that he was going to get a girlfriend within the next month. Although, he thought as he stepped into the tent, the prediction that he would get a girlfriend would be much better than hearing that he would die a million times. He rolled his eyes.
“Ah, yes.” A tremulous voice rose from the depths of the room. “Please, sit down and I will tell you your fortune.”
Harry did as he was told, his hand never straying too far from his wand. There wasn’t very much light in here—it would be only too easy for a Death Eater… He shook his head sharply. This was a Muggle carnival!
Once he was seated, the old woman looked deep into his eyes. Her own eyes widened as time passed. Finally, after Harry had sat there awkwardly for the longest minute of his life, she spoke.
“You have very nice green eyes, my dear.”
“Er—Thank you?” Harry said, raising an eyebrow.
“Not at all.” The woman shifted slightly in her chair, then continued. “I see strength in you, my dear—strength in courage, in chivalry, and in love. You love very strongly, when you allow it to enter your heart. But you remain fearful of love. You are afraid to let others in, only to see them get hurt, thus hurting you. But one should never be afraid of love. It’s better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.
“You will gain greatness where you least desire it, but you will succeed where you most wish. You have a selfless soul—one that cannot seem to stop giving of itself. When the time comes, when the world needs it most, you will give all you have and more. That will be your greatest moment, and the very worst moment for those who care about you. Nevertheless, the troubles will end, and you will get the happiness you deserve.
“Today you will uncover a plot and save many lives. However, don’t let the details get in the way of the bigger picture.” She leaned back with an utterly pleased look on her face.
“What do you mean?” Harry demanded. “When will I have to give everything? Will it all really end?”
“That, I’m afraid, is the end of your telling. The fare, if you please.” The woman gestured to the table.
Sensing that he would get nothing more out of her and feeling quite stupid for a reason he didn’t really understand, Harry placed the money on the table and left the tent.
A/N
I don't own any of these characters--they all belong to JK Rowling. I also completely made up the fact that Arthur's birthday is in the summer. I really have no idea. Just bear with me?
Thanks for reading!
--Anna Graham
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