Hermione was just about to speak when Douglas Holmes cut her off.
"Miss Brown, could you tell us the exact circumstances under which Professor Trelawney made her prophecy for you?"
"Er—"
No one quite grasped what Douglas was getting at, and Hermione glanced at him, bewildered.
Although Lavender didn't really understand either, she thought for a moment before answering, "At the start of Divination, Professor Trelawney asked me to bring her my teacup, then she just sort of said, 'The thing you fear most will happen on Friday, October sixteenth.'"
Douglas nodded thoughtfully, then pulled a face of exaggerated regret. "I'm afraid you've missed the mark, Miss Brown. The thing making you sad today isn't the news about your rabbit—it's the two-foot essay I'm about to assign you for your dreadful performance in this class. Of course, everyone else need only write at least ten inches."
The class turned to Lavender with looks of pure sympathy.
Lavender froze, stunned by the news, before suddenly erupting into a fit of coughing as if she'd choked on her own saliva.
Douglas shrugged. "Clearly, this is far more upsetting."
All at once, Hermione shot her hand into the air. When Douglas nodded for her to speak, she ventured, "But, Professor, Professor McGonagall told us that Divination is the least rigorous branch of magic, and that true Seers are vanishingly rare. She doesn't seem to think much of Professor Trelawney... Oh, and she predicted that Harry would die this term, which obviously isn't going to happen..."
Hermione finished, glancing at Douglas with a mix of caution and curiosity.
Ron clapped Harry on the shoulder, grinning. "See, Professor? Harry's as tough as they come!"
At that, whether they believed in Trelawney or not, every student turned to Douglas, eager to hear his opinion—especially since Trelawney had once predicted his nephew's death.
A faint twitch played at the corner of Douglas's mouth.
If he'd still been a student, he would have gleefully torn into the Divination professor's theatrics. He'd only signed up for the class because everyone said it was the easiest way to rack up credits—only to have his own death predicted in the very first lesson.
But as a professor now, he certainly couldn't badmouth a colleague in front of students—especially since Professor Trelawney wasn't entirely without talent.
For starters, Sybill Trelawney's knack for putting on an air of mystique was truly impressive. Douglas suspected it was a family tradition. After all, not every generation of the Trelawney line inherited the true Seer blood of Cassandra Trelawney. Over the centuries, they'd surely perfected the art of the prophetic persona and the cryptic turn of phrase.
Take today's Lavender incident. Trelawney had planted the idea early on that something worrisome would happen to Lavender today. So, the moment anything remotely upsetting occurred, Lavender would immediately link it to the prophecy, making her emotions spiral.
Often, students were caught off guard by Professor Trelawney's sudden predictions—sometimes, they even landed close to the mark. But most of the time, she was simply bluffing and inflating her own importance. Her so-called prophecies were rarely accurate; Douglas had tested this himself.
On the other hand, Trelawney did possess a sliver of true Seer blood. Now and then, in a trance-like state, she would utter genuine prophecies—never remembering them afterward.
Most crucially, these real prophecies always concerned events of great consequence to the wizarding world. Trivial personal matters were never worthy of such foresight.
Back when he graduated, Douglas had brought Trelawney a farewell gift and, in return, heard one of her true prophecies. Only when the Scholar Development System appeared and he returned to Hogwarts did he finally understand most of what that prophecy meant.
He had sent that gift to Trelawney, who spent her days secluded in her attic office at Hogwarts...
Snapping back to the present, Douglas regarded the class with a serious expression.
"Divination is a brilliant course if you want easy marks, but what it really teaches is how to read people and situations. For instance, right now, this is a Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson—and yet you lot are pestering me about Divination. What sort of prophecy could you make about that?"
Hermione was the first to react. Her cheeks flushed a deep red—after all, as class prefect, it was she who'd led the questioning. She hastily urged everyone to get back to practicing their spells.
The rest of the students, realizing what this meant, looked rather grim. What could they predict about this situation? Obviously, more homework.
Lavender seemed to perk up a little at that—after all, if everyone was being punished together, it didn't feel quite so bad.
After class, as Douglas made his way up the stairs to his office, he was intercepted by Professor McGonagall.
"Douglas, you signed Potter's Hogsmeade permission slip, but you're not his guardian, are you?"
Douglas glanced around, then replied with a smile, "I'm not, no. But you know Harry's situation—Aunt Petunia would never sign it. As his godfather, though, Sirius is perfectly qualified. If you need, I can have Sirius sign a fresh one in private."
Professor McGonagall shook her head. "No, that won't be necessary. Sirius isn't in a position to appear publicly just yet. I only needed to know how it was handled.
There's something else I've been meaning to ask—aren't you worried that making such a spectacle of catching mice will tip off that traitor and make him bolt?"
Douglas thought, That's exactly what I want him to do, but said aloud, "My potion works wonders, and I've already given the cage to Ron."
Professor McGonagall nodded, a subtle look of relief crossing her face. She'd been making extra rounds in the Gryffindor common room at night lately.
To make sure everyone knew she was always watching, she'd find some excuse to loudly scold a few students each time she entered the boys' dormitory.
But she was also worried that Wormtail would catch on to her surveillance, so she couldn't just pull Ron aside to check on his pet, meaning she hadn't known about the cage arrangement.
As Douglas was about to leave, Professor McGonagall stopped him again. She stepped closer and lowered her voice, "You ought to let Sirius stretch his legs around the castle in his Animagus form. He can't stay cooped up in your office all day—he'll go mad."
Seeing the genuine concern in her eyes, Douglas sighed. "Professor, you know about his... history with Professor Snape. I'm worried he won't be able to control himself if they cross paths. Still, I promised him he could come watch the next Gryffindor match..."
Professor McGonagall sighed at the mention of Snape, but at the thought of Sirius attending a Gryffindor match, she seemed, for a fleeting moment, to be swept back in time...
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