Sybill Trelawney: My dear, from the first moment you stepped foot in my class... I sensed that you did not possess the proper spirit for the noble art of Divination. No, you see, there. You may be young in years, but your heart is as shriveled... as an old maid's, your soul as dry as the pages of the books... to which you so desperately cleave. (Hermione pushes a crystal ball on the ground and storms out...) Have I said something?