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HRA# Chapter 78: Discussions with Dumbledore and Ron’s Growth
🕑 Added 2025-03-25 19:09:58 +0000 UTC“Me?! A prophecy?!” Professor Trelawney’s face was practically etched with the word “confusion.” Her mouth gaped open in astonishment, a mix of fear and anticipation in her eyes. “I made a prophecy? But I don’t remember a thing—sorry! I didn’t mean to scratch your arm! Sorry!!”
“Thank you for your help, Harry. I’ll keep wearing them—anyway, I hope you don’t mind, um, I’ll be going now—goodbye!”
A strange panic seized her, as if she feared that scratching Harry’s arm might provoke his anger and make him take back the pair of runed horns she now wore. To Harry, though, Professor Trelawney’s sudden distress seemed utterly baseless and out of nowhere.
It was almost as if she were rejecting herself. Clearly, Professor Trelawney longed deeply for divination—or rather, a conscious act of divination she could control.
It was all very mysterious.
So mysterious, in fact, that she didn’t even wait for Harry’s response. Professor Trelawney bolted toward the castle in a flustered rush, as if something were chasing her.
“I didn’t expect a true prophecy to emerge at a time like this,” came a voice from beside Harry. Dumbledore had approached unnoticed and now stood with him, gazing after Trelawney’s retreating figure. “It’s quite unexpected.”
“So she really does have the gift of prophecy—a wizard’s unique ability to foresee, without needing to become a shaman,” Harry said, shaking his head slightly. “When she was divining, I saw her spirit. It was surrounded by mist, sometimes thick, sometimes thin.”
“Oh, Harry, I wouldn’t understand the matters between you seers,” Dumbledore replied with a shrug. “But I suspect what Professor Trelawney wants isn’t this kind of prophecy. She’d prefer to be like you—able to take out a bowl and look whenever she needs to know something. Hmm, I doubt many could resist that kind of peek.”
“You heard it?” Harry asked, turning slightly toward him.
“Only the latter part,” Dumbledore said, shaking his head. “I came over after noticing Professor Trelawney’s change. If you don’t mind, could you tell me, Harry?”
Harry had no objections and recounted the full prophecy to Dumbledore.
After listening, Dumbledore fell silent for a long while, his mind racing, his eyes flickering with thought.
“The child born in July is an obvious pointer,” Harry said suddenly. “My birthday in this world should be the last day of July.”
“No, no, we can’t be so hasty, Harry,” Dumbledore replied, shaking his head slightly. “Neville Longbottom’s birthday is also in July, the day before yours, no less. And that line in the prophecy is quite vague—after all, there’s a July every year.”
“But right now, I seem to fit it best, don’t I?” Harry said with a grin. “I bet you thought of me first.”
This time, Dumbledore didn’t deny it.
“Then what does ‘the Dark Lord being swallowed by the past’ mean? Is there some deliberately forgotten history in the wizarding world?” Harry pressed on, still largely unfamiliar with the magical world’s deeper secrets. “And how do we interpret ‘three wars of the past, present, and future’?”
“I don’t know, Harry,” Dumbledore said with a deep sigh. “Many think I know everything, but I only know what I know. This prophecy needs more information to unravel. Still, Professor Trelawney has proven her gift, hasn’t she? At least you won’t think she’s a fraud anymore.”
“I never thought she was a fraud,” Harry said, shaking his head.
That was the truth.
Partly because of what Dumbledore had once said in the Forbidden Forest, and partly because today, as the gathering dispersed, Dumbledore had deliberately called out to him. Even earlier, while Harry had been chatting with Trelawney, Dumbledore had waited patiently nearby.
Dumbledore’s actions were, in effect, an endorsement of Professor Trelawney—a tacit understanding between him and Harry.
“Professor Trelawney might truly have inherited her grandmother’s gift as a seer,” Harry said, offering his judgment as a professional shaman. “But that gift can’t manifest reliably. That’s why the mist around her spirit varies in thickness—she needs a stable tool to harness it, rather than waiting for it to awaken on its own.”
Harry added with a hint of delight, “I’m looking forward to the day Professor Trelawney becomes a shaman priestess. Compared to the power of the elements, she’d likely excel far more in divination. With her natural talent, she could see more—farther—and reveal a broader picture.”
“Is that so?” Dumbledore said, glancing at Harry with surprise. “That’s good news indeed… Our Divination professor has waited far too long for that day.”
“And you’ve waited just as long, haven’t you?” Harry chuckled lightly. “Ever thought about starting a Shaman Priestess class?”
Dumbledore kept Professor Trelawney close for two reasons: protection and the hope of catching any new prophecies as they emerged. She did, after all, have some real skill.
Harry suddenly realized he might have misjudged the Hogwarts Board of Governors. Dumbledore’s authority as headmaster seemed limitless—opposition from the board wouldn’t matter if he truly wanted something, like creating a new course just for Trelawney.
“Oh, by the way, Harry, there’s something I should warn you about,” Dumbledore said, sidestepping Harry’s question. “The Department of Mysteries at the Ministry of Magic has a habit of collecting and preserving prophecies from the wizarding world. I suspect they’ll come looking for you tomorrow, so please don’t react too strongly.”
“You mean they already know Professor Trelawney just made a prophecy?” Harry asked, startled.
“Yes, but don’t ask me how they know—no one knows that secret,” Dumbledore said with a playful wink. “Anyway, they’ll likely ask for a memory—the moment you witnessed her prophecy. It’s harmless. If you’re uneasy, you can extract it yourself and hand it over. I assume you’ve mastered the Memory Charm by now.”
Harry nodded.
In The Hundred Most Commonly Used Spells, the Memory Charm ranked near the top.
The two strolled toward the castle, chatting idly. Neither Harry nor Dumbledore delved deeper into Trelawney’s prophecy.
For one, their trust hadn’t reached that level. For another, neither was the type to marvel ignorantly at divination. Perspective, reactions, and differing interpretations could all alter a prophecy’s outcome.
History and experience proved this time and again—often, it was human choices that shaped a prophecy’s end. Even initial assumptions could turn out to be the opposite of the final truth.
So, getting overly excited over a prophecy—especially one with such a suggestive hint—wasn’t warranted. More interpretation was needed, and Dumbledore was right about that.
Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, Harry finished his dinner. Honestly, he drew far more attention today than he had as a new student.
Back then, students had only cared about the name “Harry Potter”—a legend they’d grown up with—and the news of his exploits before enrollment. Kids from Muggle families hadn’t even known who he was.
But now, things were different.
If nothing else, the sheer spectacle of four massive elements battling each other today had been enough to win over even the most stubborn young witches and wizards.
It was just too cool—a beauty of strength that transcended gender.
The only regret was that no one had seen Professor Trelawney lose her temper or argue with “Professor Harry.” But since Harry hadn’t yet covered shamanistic divination in class, they let it go.
After class, the students rushed back to the castle and swarmed the library, digging into history from a hundred years ago—specifically, Dumbledore’s time as a student. They found records of just how incredible Hogwarts students could be back then.
Forget fifth-year feats like defeating the Ashwinder Gang, poachers, or quelling goblin rebellions—Dumbledore’s senior had wielded influence few could match in that era.
Even after graduation, his legend grew. Suppressing vampire and giant uprisings, calming werewolf-wizard and centaur conflicts, and eliminating goblin threats earned him the title of Wizarding Hero and the fervent admiration of his time.
He’d collected Merlin Orders like they were candy. There’d even been a heated push to replace the Fountain of Magical Brethren in the Ministry atrium with his statue, though it ultimately fizzled out.
The Fountain of Magical Brethren—a golden statue group of a wizard, witch, centaur, goblin, and house-elf—featured a noble wizard raising his wand skyward, the others gazing up in boundless awe.
Harry found it amusing. From what he’d learned, the other races in the wizarding world didn’t quite share the wizards’ lofty view of themselves.
Wizards didn’t care, though. To them, other races were “near-human intelligent beings” or “magical creatures.” Protecting them was just a civilized flex—a luxury of the strong.
Unlike Azeroth, where power was contested, Earth’s humans—and wizards—held dominion. Today’s young witches and wizards could grow up free and safe, not fearing dark magical creatures in their sleep, thanks to the deeds of past wizards.
As humans and wizards, their allegiance naturally lay with their own kind.
The thought that a Hogwarts student from a century ago had achieved such feats by fifth year left even the newest students humming with pride, unconsciously straightening their backs.
Many imagined themselves as that senior, living out the adventures and battles in those records, earning the title of Wizarding Hero.
Even a fleeting daydream sent their pulses racing, itching to do something grand right then and there.
—Then they got booted out of the library by Madam Pince for shouting too loudly.
Sure, it was a bit embarrassing, but it didn’t dampen their excitement one bit!
They all knew the past was the past, the present was the present, and a hundred years ago’s stellar O.W.L.s weren’t the same as today’s. But that didn’t stop them from dreaming.
What was wrong with dreaming? It wasn’t illegal!
In front of classmates who hadn’t joined the Shaman Priest Club, they sighed dramatically, hyping up what they’d seen in class until the others were practically clawing at the walls, regretting not signing up.
When the final thirteen entered the Great Hall, each sporting a distinctive pair of runed horns, they became the brightest stars in the room.
The envy was palpable. They treasured those horns so much they wouldn’t even let others touch them, leaving their peers grinding their teeth in frustration.
By the time Harry and Dumbledore reached the Great Hall, they were greeted by a strange sight: three tables buzzing with chatter as students ate and listened to excited tales.
Only the Slytherin table sat in stark, cold silence—well, not entirely. Draco Malfoy was surrounded by a crowd, regaling them with something.
Malfoy seemed to have regained his opening-day swagger, basking in the attention, his face flushed with excitement as he held court, even showing off an earth elemental he’d summoned on the table.
As the house repeatedly humbled by Harry, Slytherin had the fewest Shaman Priest Club members. Many of them now regretted it—and how could they not?
The chatter from nearby tables about the club’s events, the taunts and exaggerated boasts from Gryffindor, and Malfoy’s smug laughter only deepened that regret.
Elemental power, spirit-binding potions—damn it all!
Too bad Harry had declared no second tests this year. They’d have to wait until next year with the new first-years to sneak in.
Some didn’t even finish their meals before trickling away from the Slytherin table in twos and threes. Once they were gone, the empty benches only fueled louder laughter from the other three houses.
Harry had barely sat in the spot Hermione saved for him when he heard Ron arguing heatedly with his twin brothers. Among all the horn-wearers, Ron was the only one yet to bond with an element.
That fact, combined with the intense stares from those around him, made Harry uncomfortable. He wolfed down a few bites and slipped away.
At this point, he’d rather eat at home—and maybe spruce up the area around his suitcase cabin.
As the only horn-wearer without an elemental bond, Ron faced pressure not just from Gryffindor but from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff too—Harry’s class spanned houses and years, after all.
Slytherin pressure was just daily life for a Gryffindor; they’d push back anyway.
Comments like “Ron only got those horns because he’s Harry’s friend” or “he just tags along behind Harry” weren’t exactly pleasant.
Harry didn’t think he’d harmed Ron. Hermione, Neville, and Ron were all his friends, usually acting as a group. If Hermione and Neville had horns and Ron didn’t, that would’ve hurt him.
But Ron was tougher this time. Maybe it was Snape’s stern influence forging his resolve. Instead of crumbling or sulking under the taunts, Ron fired back fiercely.
“Where were you lot when I was facing Slytherins with Harry?! What’s our bond compared to yours?! Pah! You think you can question our friendship?! Even if I’m not a shaman, I’m still Harry’s best mate! Pah!!”
Something like that.
Ron was downright ferocious, leaving his brothers shouting that “little Ronnie’s grown up!” Fred and George had planned to step in after a good laugh, but Ron didn’t need them.
It was impressive.
Percy even said he’d write to Mum, letting her and Dad know Ron had matured into a real man.
