The Sugar Quill
Author: Morag Camshron  Story: Divine Smells  Chapter: Default
The distribution of this story is for personal use only. Any other form of distribution is prohibited without the consent of the author.

Pen_Name: Morag

Divine Smells

                                                  By Morag

Summary: What happened after Harry left Divination because of his dream about Voldemort torturing Wormtail in GoF? What was the lesson for that day, and what was Ron thinking? Hint: R/H-ish.

(Missing Moment)


Disclaimer: None of these characters, settings, etc. belong to me — they belong to Ms Joanne K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, Scholastic, and Warner Bros. (et cetera) — I’m only playing with them for my own amusement, and am making no profit whatsoever from this other than a few hours of fun. No copyright infringement is intended. Direct quotes are taken from GoF, Chapter 29: The Dream and Chapter 30: The Pensieve.

A/N: I know this story is silly, but a little plot bunny popped into my head and wouldn’t go away until I had written it down. Enjoy!

Many thanks to my incredible beta, Helen Horsely — this story wouldn’t be half so good without you!



The Divination room was unbearably hot.

But then the old bat never really did care if we’re comfortable or not, thought Ron with irritation.

The perfumed fires gave off a sweltering heat and the sickly sweet smell of incense. Professor Trelawney was droning on about planetary divination — the alignment of planets or something — thank Merlin they were almost done with the whole planet thing. Harry had fallen asleep, the lucky bloke. He felt a bit tired too, when it came to that. Just as he was drifting off, he heard someone yelling — Harry, he realised in horror. Ron’s eyes snapped open and he saw his best friend rolling on the floor, clutching his scar. Ron was out of his armchair immediately, kneeling on the floor next to him, watching Harry’s face contort with pain.  He felt his blood turn to ice.

“Harry!” he yelled. “Harry!” Harry opened his eyes, and Ron was shocked to see they were watering. The whole class was gathered round them now, but he didn’t care. “You all right?” he asked, concern evident in his voice.

 “Of course he isn’t!” said Professor Trelawney in excitement. It was at times like this, reflected Ron, that she lost that incredibly annoying mistiness to her voice that she liked to use. “What was it, Potter? A premonition? An apparition? What did you see?” Harry was shaking, glancing into the shadows apprehensively.

“Nothing,” Harry answered. Ron reckoned he was lying, but didn’t blame Harry in the least bit. Trelawney was a right old fraud, always predicting Harry’s death.

“You were clutching your scar!” Trelawney protested, “You were rolling on the floor…” Ron’s worries drowned out her excited voice.

Ron wondered anxiously what had happened to Harry. He’s acting the way he always does when something important happens. He looks really spooked, as well. Mind you, I’d feel that way too if Trelawney was staring at me as though she’d like nothing better than to stick me under a magnifying glass.

He looked anxiously at Harry, who was staring at Trelawney. “I need to go to the hospital wing, I think,” said Harry. “Bad headache.”

“My dear, you were undoubtedly stimulated by the extraordinary clairvoyant vibrations of my room!” Trelawney said (practically panting with over eagerness, thought Ron). “If you leave now, you may lose the opportunity to see further than you have ever —”

She was cut off. “I don’t want to see any thing but a headache cure,” Harry replied firmly. As he stood up, Lavender and Parvati whispered to one another in hushed tones. Ron caught a few snatches of their conversation:

“He really should stay if he saw something. Professor Trelawney’s obviously the best person qualified to help —”

“Oh, I hope he’s alright!” whispered Parvati anxiously.

“Is he ill… but —”

His attention wandered from their gossiping to Harry, who was grabbing his bag hastily.

“See you later,” Harry muttered to Ron, before exiting the classroom with great alacrity.

Don’t reckon he’s actually heading to the hospital wing, Ron thought. Harry doesn’t like fussing when it’s about that scar of his. And Madam Pomfrey fusses a lot. So hopefully he’s going to Dumbledore. Course you never know with Harry, the way he tries to hide all of his problems. Must come from living with those Dursleys. I’ll find Harry as soon as the lesson’s over, he decided. I’ll make him tell me what really happened.

With this resolved, Ron tuned back into what the Divination professor was saying.

the spirits have just informed me that we should try another form of divination,” Professor Trelawney announced in a misty voice, sounding slightly miffed. “For those that know little of the great secrets of divination, one may possess not only an Inner Eye, but also an Inner Ear and an Inner Nose. For the rest of this lesson you should try to get in touch with your Inner Nose — choose a person who is not in this room and try to divine what that person smells like. If you will all turn to page 225 in Unfogging the Future, then? Read the section entitled ‘Divining Through Your Nose, or How to Tell What the Smell Means’.”

With these words she adjusted her many shawls and went over to the area where Lavender and Parvati were sitting. Ron had had to turn his snigger into a rather unconvincing cough, earning him a reproachful glare from Lavender and Parvati, who both took this seriously.

It’d be fun to divine what Snape smelled like, the slimy git — foul potions, grease, and detentions. At least, Ron contemplated, divining other people’s smells, he wouldn’t have to decide which horrible misfortune would befall him again — he was starting to run out of ideas on how he could make himself suffer sufficiently.

“Don’t forget to concentrate hard on the person whose scent you are trying to divine, dears,” said Trelawney as she passed Ron and headed toward poor Neville, who was turning red with exertion.

Use your Inner Nose — what a riot! Harry would laugh himself silly when Ron told him about it and Hermione — well Hermione would remind him what a useless subject Divination was, and ask him exactly why he was still taking it, and extol the wonders of Arithmancy to him again. Probably all in one breath.

Hermione, he mused… She smelled like the books that she loved so much (absolutely barking, that one), of parchment and ink, faintly of… Ron shook himself free of those unwanted thoughts. Why the bloody hell am I thinking about what Hermione smells like? he asked himself.

Clearly the incense fumes were affecting his brain too much.

Neville chose that exact second to collapse from the effort of holding his breath in an attempt to divine his chosen person’s smell.

“Oh dear,” murmured Trelawney as Neville fell to the floor with a muffled thud. “I saw that Mr Longbottom would have an accident today.”

 When the lesson was finally over, Ron gratefully descended the stepladder into the blessedly incense-free air. Harry and Hermione would be waiting for him. Harry’d better tell them about what happened with his scar. Hermione would probably ramble on enthusiastically about some very dull and complicated thing that she had just learned in Arithmancy all throughout dinner or she might bring up “spew again. Grinning at the very thought of it all (“spew” not Harry’s scar) he headed down to meet Harry and Hermione with a bounce in his step.


Hermione looked at her watch. “We haven’t done any practising!” she said, looking shocked. “We were going to do the Impediment Curse! We’ll really have to get down to it tomorrow! Come on, Harry, you need to get some sleep.”

Ron slowly followed Harry up the stairs to the dormitory. Neville was snoring again. As he climbed into his four-poster, he couldn’t help but feel worried. So Snape had been a Death Eater — or still was one. Yawning, he fell back against his pillows, and as he drifted off to sleep a picture of Hermione came into his head. She was looking all — girly — like she had when she’d gone to the Yule Ball with that git, Krum. She was surrounded by books and was beaming happily. Now there was something that was simply… divine, he thought hazily just as sleep claimed him. He smiled in his slumber…




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