Just Helping Out || Emmeline & Sybill 


She sat down, returning Emmeline’s smile, noticing her moving some crumpled parchment off the table. Rejected starts to the essay, she assumed. She really didn’t understand how everyone didn’t find Divination absolutely fascinating. She always liked the feeling of knowing more about something than her peers, though; it was in her blood. Her great-great-great grandmother Cassandra had the gift. No one in the family believed her. Thankfully, the family had evolved some since then, but not enough that, outside of her parents, her family deemed her worthless and stopped paying any attention to her.

“I can tell,” she replied raising an eyebrow at the drawings on the parchment. “Unless you’re going to be drawing examples of the history and practical applications of Divination, then you should probably start again.” She pulled the Divination book over to herself and read a bit of the page it was on before shutting it. “You won’t need that. Just start at the beginning. What do you know about the subject?”

Emmeline sighed and pulled out a new piece of parchment to replace her original and leaned her elbows on the wood. Holding back a wince, Emmeline looked down at the table. ‘In general? Not really a lot…’ She sighed again as her eyes traced the minute creases in the thick parchment, biting the inside of her mouth. Over the years she’d mostly gotten by with Divination through getting creative - after all, you could make everything up and still get a good grade - but recently her imagination had gone kaput, and she was having to resort to what they actual had to be doing. All the star charts and tea leaf readings had some pattern to them, but she couldn’t work it out. ‘I’m supposed to be analysing how the planetary patterns correspond with lifetime events, but I can’t work out how the two link.’ She looked up at Sybill with an expression crying a plea for help.

Hogsmeade | Emmeline and Bertha 

Emmeline rubbed her arms absentmindedly as she walked down to Hogsmeade, a small satchel slung over her shoulder for her money. She’d managed to let her last quill get broken, or rather she’d accidentally dropped it and her incorrigible owl had snatched it up to sit on her window sill preening it’s feathers with it. One day the stupid thing was going to fall out of that window, probably from a rather accidental shove from a rather annoyed Gryffindor. Either way, she was out of anything to write with as using her muggle ink pens was a route to disaster - the ink wasn’t strong enough for the parchment and tended to spread and leave her words incomprehensible. She’d tried before - it hadn’t been a good idea.

She was just about to walk into a shop of oddments and school supplies when she spotted someone she recognised standing aimlessly a little down the road. Frowning, Emmeline turned to face her and called out. ‘Bertha? Everything okay? You look a little lost.’