"Thanks, Miss Lyra," he mumbled; she was not listening anyway. He watched her leave, watched her angry back until it was gone through the door. He contemplated something for a few seconds, then he looked out the window. It was dark. Funnily enough, his divination professor was convinced and often told him that he had a gift for seeing the future. He humored him but contested the assessment. His premonitions originated in the now — that was different. Pure instinct. In any case, he knew the last word on this matter was not spoken. He slowly continued his work on his essay until study hall was over.

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