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HRHL# CHAPTER 234
🕑 Added 2025-07-07 06:51:39 +0000 UTCHarry was certain almost instantly that the professor before him possessed genuine ability.
She was undoubtedly skilled in Divination; otherwise, she wouldn’t be so… eccentric.
The way to judge whether a Divination professor had true talent in the subject was to see if they were a bit unconventional. It was like assessing a male hairdresser’s skill—you judged by how flamboyant they were. The more flamboyant, the better the craft.
“Sit, my dears, sit,” Professor Trelawney said, her hands waving stiffly like a zombie’s.
At her words, the students clambered into armchairs or sank into overstuffed cushions. Harry, Ron, and Hermione gathered around a round table. Harry had no intention of sitting on a hard chair. He grabbed a beanbag cushion, sprawled onto it, and half-reclined, sinking into its softness as if enveloped by clouds. He even felt tempted to nap—especially after Professor Trelawney began her self-introduction, which made him even drowsier.
“Welcome to Divination,” Professor Trelawney said, settling into a winged armchair by the fireplace. “I am Professor Trelawney. You may not have seen me before. I find that descending too often into the hustle and bustle of school life clouds my Inner Eye.”
Her peculiar proclamation left the class stunned. No one quite understood what she meant.
Harry, however, was unfazed. He whispered to Hermione and Ron, “Maybe she didn’t wash her face this morning, and the sleep in her eyes is clouding her vision.”
Ron let out a stifled “pfft,” barely containing his laughter.
Hermione started to scold Harry but couldn’t hold back her own amusement, her shoulders shaking as she covered her mouth.
Professor Trelawney either didn’t notice their antics or didn’t care. She adjusted her shawl meticulously and continued, “You have chosen Divination, the most difficult of all magical arts. I must warn you at the outset: if you do not possess the Sight, there is little I can teach you. In this field, books can only take you so far…”
She punctuated her words with a gesture that would’ve gotten her banned in Korea.
“Many witches and wizards, though talented at producing loud explosions or gifted in Herbology, cannot pierce the veil of the future because they lack the gift for Divination.”
At this, she glanced at Seamus and Neville. Seamus puffed out his chest, while Neville shrank back slightly.
“This rare talent is possessed by only a few… You, boy,” she said suddenly, turning to Neville, who nearly fell off his cushion. “Is your grandmother well?”
“Should I say she is or isn’t?” Neville replied, trembling, unnerved by Trelawney’s sudden inquiry.
“I’m so sorry, dear,” Professor Trelawney said with regret, the firelight glinting off her long emerald earrings.
Neville felt breathless. Did her words mean something was wrong with his grandmother?
“Oh, don’t overthink it, dear,” Trelawney added. “I’m not saying anything is wrong with your grandmother. I’m merely expressing regret that you lack the gift for Divination.”
Neville took a deep breath, deciding not to argue with her.
Unfazed by his discomfort, Professor Trelawney continued calmly, “This year, we will study various methods of Divination. The first term will focus on reading tea leaves, and in the second term, we will progress to palmistry—by the way, dear,” she said, turning to Ron, “beware of a bald man.”
“A bald man?!” Ron frowned, his expression a mix of confusion and disbelief. He didn’t even know any bald men—baldness wasn’t exactly a rare trait in Britain, but still.
“In the summer term,” Trelawney went on, “we will study crystal balls—if we’ve finished with fire omens. Unfortunately, a nasty flu will disrupt classes this month, and I myself will lose my voice… Around Christmas, one of us will leave forever.”
Her words cast a tense silence over the room, but Trelawney seemed oblivious to the atmosphere.
“I think, dear,” she said to Harry, who was closest to her, “could you pass me the largest teapot?”
Harry stood, handed her the teapot, and sat back down.
Taking it, Trelawney didn’t start the lesson immediately. Instead, she said to Harry, “Thank you, dear—and by the way, that thing you’re most worried about will happen tomorrow night.”
Tomorrow night?
Harry scratched his head. What am I worried about? He dismissed her words as nonsense. Divination types always had a few screws loose.
Trelawney began the lesson, explaining that they would interpret tea leaves by examining the shapes left in their cups after drinking. The shapes would reveal popular Divination symbols.
It was, essentially, a lesson in identifying trendy tea-leaf patterns.
“Open your minds, dears, and let your eyes see beyond the mundane!” Trelawney called from the shadowy corner.
Harry drained his tea in one gulp and peered into the cup’s bottom. “What’s this?” he asked, passing it to Hermione and Ron. “No matter how I look at it, it feels… like a crab?”
“A crab?” Ron scoffed. “Mate, you must be craving seafood. I think it’s an eagle. The book says an eagle represents a mortal enemy. Your enemy is You-Know-Who, so it fits, doesn’t it?”
“That interpretation makes some sense,” Hermione said hesitantly, turning the cup. “But I think it’s a wedge or a triangle… It suggests you’re caught in a three-way relationship, or someone is interfering with your connection to another person.”
“A three-way relationship?” Harry echoed.
At that, Trelawney swooped in, drawn by the conversation. She snatched the cup from Hermione, rotated it, and said, “Let me see… Let me see… This can’t be a triangle. I see a jackal… Oh no, this is the Grim!”
She let out a scream and collapsed into a nearby chair.
Startled by her outburst, Neville’s hand slipped, and his cup shattered on the floor with a crash.
“Professor, are you alright?” Hermione asked, frowning with concern.
“My dear child—my poor, dear child…” Trelawney gasped, staring at Harry in horror. “No, it’s better not to say… Oh, heavens, don’t ask me…”
“What’s wrong, Professor?” Harry asked, unfazed but curious.
“My dear,” Trelawney’s large eyes widened, “you have the Grim!”
“The Grim?” Harry frowned.
“Yes, the Grim, my dear—the Grim!” Trelawney cried, shocked that Harry didn’t understand and even questioned her. “That spectral dog that haunts graveyards! My dear boy, it’s an omen—the worst omen—of death!”
She waved her hands dramatically.
“And a jackal—oh, heavens, a jackal… If I were you, I’d—”
“I think she’s talking nonsense,” Hermione interrupted, suddenly sympathizing with Cassandra. She tugged Harry’s arm. “Come on, it doesn’t look like a dog or a jackal. It’s just tea dregs.”
“Maybe Professor Trelawney misread it,” Seamus chimed in mischievously. “Maybe the leaves look like a donkey?”
Dog, jackal, or donkey—Trelawney looked like she might faint. Her lips trembled before she managed, “That’s enough for today’s lesson.” Her voice quivered. “We’ll end early. Please pack up and be careful as you leave—especially you, dear.”
Her final words were directed at Harry.
The next class was Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall. As they entered, students were still buzzing about Harry’s “Grim.”
They weren’t particularly scared—Harry himself was joking about it, clearly unbothered.
“It sounds like you had quite a fruitful lesson,” McGonagall said as she entered, hearing the students’ murmurs. She smiled. “What did you learn?”
Hermione stood, speaking rapidly. “Professor, we just had Divination. We read tea leaves, and—”
“Ah, of course,” McGonagall interrupted, frowning. “No need to go on, Miss Granger. Tell me, who’s going to die this year?”
“Me,” Harry said, raising his hand succinctly.
He seemed even calmer than McGonagall.
“Oh, you again,” McGonagall said dryly. “I’m not one to speak ill of colleagues, but perhaps it’s Professor Trelawney’s hobby to predict death as a welcome ritual. You must understand, Divination is a woolly discipline. I have little patience for it because true seers are exceedingly rare.”
“Professor, I completely agree,” Hermione said, laughing.
McGonagall gave Hermione an approving look, pleased by her support.
By lunchtime, Trelawney’s prediction of Harry’s death had spread across Hogwarts, and the entire school treated it as a joke. Potter, dead? He was the Boy Who Lived, the one even Voldemort couldn’t kill!
Cassandra, however, didn’t seem to share the humor. During lunch, she kept glancing at Harry, only to look down and focus on her food whenever he looked up.
Draco noticed his great-aunt’s subtle actions. He kept his head down, not daring to speak, but inwardly sighed. Oh, great-aunt, can’t you be braver? If you care about him, just say it! No wonder Miss Grindelwald stole the lead.
He felt a mix of frustration and exasperation, as if watching someone fail spectacularly.
In the afternoon, Care of Magical Creatures was taught by Hagrid, who was substituting. Newt had taken a leave of absence to investigate magical creatures in America and wouldn’t be back for a few days. Hagrid taught straight from Scamander’s syllabus, much to the students’ disappointment—they’d hoped for something more exciting.
After dinner, Harry sat alone in the library, bored, and pulled out the Marauder’s Map from the Weasley twins. He wanted to see if Sirius Black was anywhere in the castle.
“I solemnly swear I am up to no good,” he said, tapping the parchment with his wand until it transformed into a map.
He searched from the first floor up, even checking the bathrooms, looking for any sign of Black. In the Gryffindor common room, he spotted the name “Sphinx.”
Just Sphinx.
Only two people were in the common room: Oliver Wood and Katie Bell. Harry knew Wood, but Katie Bell didn’t ring a bell. He shrugged it off, assuming it was a senior Gryffindor wandering about. He wasn’t exactly a social butterfly who knew every Gryffindor by name.
Finding nothing, Harry restored the map and tucked it into his pocket. As he left, he bumped straight into Sebastian.
“Ugh!” Harry shivered, feeling a chill. “Hey, Seb, can you not pull pranks like that?”
Sebastian turned, waved cheerfully, and grinned. Teasing his best mate was always a win.
T/N: If you find any typos or incorrect names, please leave a comment. Thanks, and enjoy reading!
