Pacing... pacing... pacing... pacing.
Thinking... thinking... thinking... thinking...

Certainly I will think of something. Certainly! Eventually. Oh I'm so terrible at this... Come now, don't lose faith. Remember, be strong. Be confident. Be proud! You can't fail, not on your first day. Go!

Professor Vector turned to the classroom, spinning on her heels, and consequently, on her robe, causing her to spin farther than intended, which caused her to stumble. She quickly regained her composure, straightened her robe, and cleared her throat.

"Welcome, students..." she mumbled in a wavering voice. She quickly shook her head and coughed. "HELLO!" she hollered over-enthusiastically, again coughing in embarrassment. "Hello... welcome students," she repeated, this time more normally. "Welcome to a new, lovely year at Hogwarts."

The nervousness was overpowering. It was as if the sky was falling, and standing behind her lectern, she had no place to run - no place to hide - from her imminent doom. The embarrassment... the shame! It was all caving in around her! Come now, Septima, come! Don't let it get to you. Try again - start again.

"I mean..." she began with a mumble, "Hello. Welcome, students; welcome to a new, lovely year at Hogwarts." She intended to make a confident stride while waving her wand theatrically through the air. But again, Professor Vector tripped over her robe, causing her to stumble slightly. Thankfully she kept her balance, but the laughter... the laughter rang endlessly in her head. She did everything in her power to ignore it and continue her speech.

Another polite cough, "As you know, your bright faces are here for the humble class of Arithmancy. The study of numbers. The bread and butter of..." Professor Vector paused again. She could not think of what to say next. "Well, certainly the bread and butter of many things!"

Another polite cough, "In this year - I mean - in this subject - I mean - in your class - I mean - in our class! In our class... we will discuss the magical properties of numbers. Now, I've had my fair share of students who have joined your - I mean - our class, who have sought leisure. Who have sought to sit back and relax; who have not sought the importance of numbers in the world around them. But I will have you know that Arithmancy is one of the most important and difficult subjects you will ever dedicate yourself to."

Professor Vector tapped her wand dramatically against the side of the lectern. Unfortunately, she was not gripping her wand tightly enough, and the force of the tap sent it flying far to the left. Professor Vector quickly bumbled after it, snatching her wand up as hastily as she could without losing her balance once more. Once she took it in her hand, she quickly turned back to the classroom. She felt her cheeks blushing - a soft warmth all over her face. And the laughter...

Another polite cough. "I hope, together, we will have a wonderful year together learning. And that we... we will... uh..." She turned around to the back of the classroom, looking at her large chart of the most important numbers in magic. She felt the numbers calm her, and she took a deep breath. "So students, we will..."

Professor Vector turned back to the class. But as her mind was so occupied with numbers, she forgot about her robe. She slipped and fell onto the hard stone floor. And in that moment, she heard the loudest laugh she believed she had ever heard; a true guffaw in a high voice. Her eyes teared up. Her teeth chattered. She shook with nervousness.

"And I do say, the gnomes just ran away?" said a squeaky voice from the hallway. Professor Vector took it to be the voice of Professor Flitwick.

"Certainly," replied the easily recognized, jolly voice of Professor Sprout. "The nursery where we get all our plants for Hogwarts was worried that the gnomes would de-root the Mandrakes. But I told them, 'Never you fear. Those pesky gnomes never know what to do with Mandrakes, on account of that awful scream.'"

Professor Flitwick laughed again, "Oh, that is a hilarious image."

"And I'm very excited for this year. They had a very good selection of puffapods and... My dear, Septima! Are you all right in there?" Professor Sprout asked as she walked past the door to Professor Vector's room, spotting her. "What are you doing on the floor?"

Professor Vector quickly got to her feet, "Just... just counting the centimeters between my desk and the lectern, Pomona. I'm fine, I'm fine."

Professor Sprout turned to Professor Flitwick, who shrugged. They both walked on, and Septima turned back to the number chart on the wall. "What a disaster," she said to herself. She approached a mirror near one of the bookshelves behind her desk, and looked at her aging face and fading dark brown hair.

She glanced back at the classroom, which was completely empty. Classes had not yet begun at Hogwarts, but Septima's classroom was prepared for her new students. Her classroom had desks in three rows of seven - twenty-one in total, of course - three taken from the character number of the word "desk," and seven from the social number - which created space for twenty-one students, of course - which is reduced down to the number three (twenty-one equals two plus one), which of course represents completeness and wholeness; a classroom fit to receive the best education on numbers possible. But Professor Vector had other problems on her mind.

"What are we going to do with you?" Septima asked her reflection. "That was an utter failure. If the students had seen you, you would have been a complete mockery. The laughing stock of Hogwarts: the crazy Arithmancy professor. Wait.. mockery... thirty-six, which reduced to nine equals... completion and achievement... a mockery is all I'll ever achieve?!"

Septima threw her hat on the ground. After a few short breaths, she shook her head and tidied her hair. "Nonsense. You are just stressed... another difficult year. But we can work through this." Septima made to pick up her hat, assuring that she took only one step, to represent her confidence. "We just need to have a walk, that's all. We can think of our start-of-term speech later."

Making her way out of her classroom, Septima counted her steps to the door. She only later realized that it took her eleven steps - reduced to two - which could easily represent indecision, which only made her more nervous. She walked down the corridor, attempting to relax, though she realized later that she had been counting the classrooms she passed.

"Maybe I should freshen up... To the ladies room, then." Down the hall, past five doors, with a right turn, five more, the nearest bathroom being the sixth door; another sign of indecisiveness, as she had passed eleven doors in all, which reduced to two. "Come now, let's go on!" She said, coaxing herself into the room.

Septima didn't raise her head, instead counting the steps it took to get to the sink. After she felt she had walked far enough, she raised her head and inspected the lavatory. There were four sinks - representing reliability and practicality. But which to use... Which to use...

"The fourth, of course!" Septima said to herself, quickly dashing to the sink in long strides, taking four long steps. She then proceeded to splash water on her face, four times. Four: a good number, Spetima thought. Maybe I could reduce my day to a four. Is today not the twenty-eighth? That's divisible by four.

As she mused, Septima lost count of how many times she had splashed water on her face. She then realized, as her hands filled with water, that this was the fifth time. Five! Her least favourite number! The number of instability and uncertainty. She hopped backwards away from the sink, water splashing on the floor, and tripped backwards over her robe. She hobbled blindly backwards out of control five times before crashing into the door of a toilet stall, opening it with a loud bang. A loud scream ensued, issuing an equally loud scream from Septima, who wobbled forward, returning her to the sink as she nearly slipped on the water she had spilled on the floor.

"Can't a girl mourn in peace?!" hollered the voice of a young girl who sat on the toilet.

"Oh, my dear, I'm so sorry," Septima said. The occupant was Myrtle, the strange ghost of a girl that occupied the restroom that people rarely used. Septima had been so caught up in her numbers that she forgot which restroom she had entered.

"The least you could do is knock!" Moaning Myrtle barked angrily.

"Totally my mistake, I assure you. I didn't mean to come in here."

"Oh, I see. I understand! You didn't want to see whiny Moaning Myrtle! You didn't want to have anything to do with the creepy little girl in the restroom, did you?!"

"That's not what I mean. I..." Septima attempted to say apologetically.

"Don't worry, I'm used to it. I'm used to being loathed... go ahead, keep avoiding miserable, mundane, Moaning Myrtle." Myrtle began to wail loudly, and Septima covered her ears due to the high volume. Myrtle leapt into the air with a spin, and dove head first into her haunted toilet, splashing a torrent of water in all direction. The water splashed over Professor Vector, soaking her robes.

Only now did Septima realize the significance of the room she was in. She had used the infamous sink which had opened up the Chamber of Secrets. She had used it! With a scream, Septima raced toward the door to the restroom, for once not counting as she ran in terror from the room.

After several minutes of wringing her robe dry (four minutes, in fact), Septima made her way wet and drearily down the corridor toward the Great Hall. Septima had always been a bit odd - quirky even - and a little nervous of the future. This was part of why she enjoyed Arithmancy so much, since Arithmancy allowed her to approach the future through divination via numbers. She could accurately predict her future with logic and numbers, which set her at ease.

But ever since the incidents of the previous year, when the Chamber of Secrets had been opened, and that horrible snake had slithered around the school, Septima had been a nervous wreck. She could hardly sleep some nights, but somehow made it through the summer.

When she arrived at the Great Hall, lunch was being served, and she made her way to the Professors' Table. Her robes were still wet, and she knew the teachers noticed; Professor Lupin, the new Dark Arts teacher, gave her a worried glance, while Professor Hagrid, the new Care of Magical Creatures teacher, offered a curious nod. Professor McGonagall and Professor Sinistra were whispering quietly to each other; they must be talking about her. Professor Vector put these people out of her mind and sat between Professor Snape and the empty chair set out for Professor Trelawney.

She counted all the plates on the table - seventeen in all - reduced to eight - a very unpredictable number, which worried Septima. She took six spoon fulls of peas onto her plate - a number which represented harmony. This amounted to exactly eighty-two individual peas - reduced to ten, then reduced again to one - which though it signified solidarity, contented Septima. Two dinner rolls, topped with exactly three swipes of butter per roll, totaling to six; one breast of chicken, since there were two on the serving plate and she would be halving a whole number; and three cubes of sugar in her tea. She pushed the plate of pork away from her closer to Professor Trelawney's empty seat, for it had five pieces waiting to be eaten.

One, two, three, four... Septima counted, and counted, and counted, making absolutely certain that before she swallowed her food that the number was divisible by four. She made sure to eat her pieces of bread and chicken first, so as not to result in any pieces of food creating an undesirable number. Snape coughed twice next to her. Suddenly, an idea sparked in her mind.

"Um, excuse me. Excuse me, Severus. Might I have a word?" she asked her lunchtime neighbour. Severus stared at her blankly, wiping his napkin upon his mouth only once - so typical of Severus - though Septima knew that Severus was a two.

"Well, you see... I've been having certain problems with my class. Well, you see..." Septima was becoming nervous again. She quickly counted the peas on her plate in her head: thirty-one, which reduced to four. She could do this! "I want to make a good impression when I meet my new batch of students on the first day of classes.

"And, well, I know how strong of an impression you make on your students." To this, for some reason, Severus made a strange, mean face. But Septima continued, "And I know how passionate you are about your position here as potions master." To this, Severus scowled. But Septima continued, "So I was simply wondering if you'd mind helping me with my start of term speech?"

Severus coughed once, and there was a long pause before he decided to speak. "I realize that you must be highly skilled at your job, Professor Vector. Sadly, I must admit I sorely know very little about numbers. But I do know a slight bit, which I would like to confide to you now." Septima leaned forward, eager for Severus' response.

"My classroom is all the way across the castle, down in the dungeons. It takes me approximately six minutes to cross the castle and reach my room. Inside my room, today, rests a large cauldron which is stirring itself at about one stir per second. To make a good Wit-Sharpening Potion, you should grind three grams of scarab beetles for five and a half minutes until a fine powder, then cut two full ginger roots into thin slices. Afterwards, you must boil the ginger roots for thirty minutes before adding your scarab beetles, as well as three-hundred and fifty-five milliliters of armadillo bile."

"Do go on, Severus," Septima said, listening intently.

"This means I have exactly eight minutes remaining to get to my classroom as soon as I finish with my lunch."

"When will you be finished?" Septima asked.

"Now," replied Severus, who let his fork drop and clack on his plate. He stood up and made his way out of the Great Hall. Septima looked down at her plate, downtrodden, and ate a spoon full of peas. Only then did she realize that there were now twenty-three peas left, which reduced to five. She suddenly lost her appetite, and left her place at the table.

Professor Vector slowly made her way morosely back to her classroom. Fifty-seven steps... fifty-eight... fifty-nine...

Suddenly, Septima crashed into something, and flopped backwards to the floor. Upon an inspection, she realized she had run straight into Professor Trelawney, who had rounded the corner ahead of Septima while inspecting a empty cup of tea.

"Sybill, I'm so terribly sorry..." Septima said, but Professor Trelawney simply laughed.

"I have been wandering the halls for half an hour now, pondering this cup of tea I had in my room earlier. See here." Sybill showed the tea leaves at the bottom of the cup to Septima as they both returned to their feet. "From this angle, a hand... and from this one, a witch."

Septima had no idea what either symbol met. She did know that Sybill was unconsciously tapping her foot in rhythms of two, so she decided to listen further. "What does it mean?"

"The witch signifies a strange occurrence, while the hand represents a friend's assistance. And this made me quite curious, for my morning tea told me nothing of this. So I have been wandering the halls, seeking insight from the Inner-Eye, when here we meet. Do you have something on your mind?"

"Well... honestly..."

The two talked on their way to Septima's classroom, as Septima confessed her troubles; how she felt like the laughing stock of the school, and how she could not work up the confidence to contrive and deliver a proper speech to her students this year. She also confided in how nervous she was after the incidents involving the Chamber of Secrets.

"And I simply have no idea what to do..." Septima continued. "I have tried everything, and every attempt is a failure. How can I possibly find something to say without making a complete fool of myself?'

"Well, simply, speak from the heart." Sybill replied without a delay for thought.

"Excuse me?" Septima queried.

"Firstly, I realize what you are going through. When I met hard times in my past, I would always turn to my love for divination for answers. And for every good answer I could divine, there was an answer of truly foul nature lingering with this potential good news. Naturally, since I was agitated, I turned first to the bad rather than the good, which resulted in only making myself more nervous." Suddenly, Sybill turned her gaze to the ceiling in the corner of the room.

Once Septima inspected the corner, and saw that nothing was there, she spoke. "So you are trying to say that I should look for signs of good in my numbers, and just put the bad out of mind?"

"Something like that," Sybill continued, occasionally looking back toward the ceiling warily. "And secondly, you are a professor of Arithmancy. Your specialty is numbers, not words. Therefore, you are dealing with your natural opposite when attempting to create this speech. It should only be expected you are having as much trouble as you are."

Sybill patted Professor Vector's shoulder. "Septima, my dear, I have been in your place many a time. I'm not exactly the most 'normal' professor residing in these walls. But this class is your love. All you simply need to do is express your love." Sybill realized that she was still holding her teacup in hand, and quickly placed it on a nearby desk.

"So... just say what I feel, you say?" asked Septima.

"Something like that," Sybill replied, this time looking out the window while rising from her seat. "Such a lovely, sunny summer day. Did you know that in reading tea leaves, a sun signifies happiness? Whereas I predict that the rumbling of my stomach represents my future at lunch. If you would be so kind as to excuse me."

Professor Trelawney made her way to the door of the classroom. It took her a moment to open, for she attempted to open the door the wrong way. But as soon as she made her way to the corridor, she straightened her glasses, and was gone.

Septima mused over what Sybill had told her, for once in a long while, not counting the seconds that she thought. Only after a few moments did she realize Sybill had forgotten her teacup on the desk. As she reached for it, she knocked it over. But upon picking it up, she saw that the leaves seemed to now be in an odd shape that resembled the sun.

Professor Vector put down the teacup and went to her mirror. She didn't count her steps. She smiled at her reflection, and straightened the hat on her head. She glanced up at number chart on the wall, but didn't dwell on it. She turned to the classroom, and sighed deeply with relief.

"Hello. Welcome, students; welcome to a new, lovely year at Hogwarts. In our class... we will discuss the magical properties of numbers, and the ability to accurately predict our surroundings and the events in our lives with them. Some may say that Arithmancy is a silly class. But I say that if you put a little bit of trust and love into numbers, with a logical and thoughtful mind, you'll be opened to a whole world of possibilities..."