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BFH# Chapter 28: Gap
🕑 Added 2024-12-22 06:42:37 +0000 UTCA few minutes later, half the students had put down their quills, lost in confusion and bewilderment.
Some of the Muggle-born students stared at the swirling gray-white mist, and, in their daze, it was as if they had returned to their elementary school classrooms. Their literature teacher stood excitedly at the podium, shouting, "What does this sentence symbolize? What does it symbolize?!"
Their answer had never changed:
"We don’t know!!"
In their eyes, the gray mist lacked any discernible shape. It was so amorphous that even the edges and corners were impossible to make out.
One student couldn’t help voicing their frustration:
“What crow and sun are you talking about? All I see is… a troll’s vomit.”
“Gryffindor, minus two points.”
Victor said expressionlessly.
The student immediately shrank back, silenced, and lost any desire to continue complaining.
But what frustrated them even more was that while they had no talent for this, some others seemed particularly gifted.
Take Fred and George, for example. The two of them, instead of struggling, were naturals at this. Almost as soon as the mist emerged, they tilted their heads, gestured a little, and then, with a flurry of quill strokes, filled out their answers.
Lee Jordan couldn’t help but ask, “Wait, mate, I saw you picked C for the first question. How did you even see a crow shape in that mist?”
“It’s obvious,” George replied matter-of-factly, pointing to the constantly shifting edges and center of the mist.
“See? The mist’s corners have shifting angles, resembling crow feathers. Plus, on the side closest to the flame, there are purple flashes—those could totally be a crow’s eyes. Look at it this way, isn’t the shape unmistakable?”
Lee Jordan pressed his fingers to his eyes, even pulling his eyelids open as he stared at the mist for a long time. Finally, he came to a conclusion:
“Fred, are you sure you’re not hallucinating from smoke inhalation? That’s clearly a circle.”
“…My name’s George. And you’re the one hallucinating from the smoke.”
Similar scenes unfolded throughout the classroom. Some students could point out shapes in the mist, while others, no matter how hard they tried to see what was described, couldn’t make out anything remotely similar.
In fact, this was exactly the effect Victor wanted.
Because for many untalented young witches and wizards, no matter how hard they tried to learn, divination would never yield results—seeing the future required innate talent. If you couldn’t see it, you couldn’t see it.
Discouraging them now saved the students time, and also saved Victor some effort.
Returning to the present, Victor, noticing that most of the students who could write had finished their answers, calmly clapped his hands and repeated:
“All right, next question.”
The class let out a mixture of groans and sighs, clearly dividing the students into two groups. This distinction made a small subset feel even worse.
Victor ignored them. Instead, he produced some bright green lettuce, tossing it into the flames, letting the students watch it burn to ash.
He spoke to the fire:
"Let the flames shine, let the light of the past return, unveil the secrets of time, and reveal the truth once more."
But just as everyone focused intently on the emerging mist, a young Hufflepuff wizard suddenly raised his hand high. His face was youthful but already showed traces of handsomeness, with black hair, dark eyes, and a steady demeanor.
“What’s your name?”
“Cedric Diggory, Professor,” Cedric replied politely. “I think there’s a problem with the options for question five. Could we confirm it again?”
As he spoke, the students around him glanced back at the question. The previous one, question five, had asked:
“In predicting the most threatening event to you this term, what shape did you see?”
The options were: black dog, dove, sheep, or skull.
Cedric explained earnestly:
“I vaguely saw the shape of fabric in the mist. No matter how many times I looked, it always had folds and creases, as if wrapping around something… I really saw it. But it’s not listed among the options.”
Victor raised his eyebrows slightly, carefully studying Cedric again.
“…I’m sorry, Professor. Did I say something wrong?”
“No, quite the opposite, Mr. Diggory,” Victor said. “You may write down what you saw under the question and add it as an option.”
Cedric breathed a sigh of relief, barely daring to believe how easily he had been let off the hook.
Given how Victor behaved, much like Snape, he had fully expected to be docked ten house points for questioning the curriculum.
But Cedric kept his thoughts to himself. After sitting back down, he heard Victor add:
“Oh, and Cedric, if you ever consider joining a club in the future, you might want to try divination. You have potential to go far in this field.”
…
When the class ended, only half the students maintained their previous mood. The other half walked silently, heads down, as if the excitement only belonged to Cedric and his peers.
Even when they entered the next Transfiguration class, they carried this mood with them.
This was the first lesson of the term for the third years. Professor McGonagall, following the usual syllabus, began by introducing Animagus transformations and instructed the students to attempt turning into animals again, focusing on the finer details of transformation.
The Gryffindor group of four—Angelina, Lee Jordan, Fred, and George—were assigned to the same practice group.
While turning a button into a beetle, Fred said, “I heard that Animagus transformation leaves are also useful for divination. A Hufflepuff told me about it…”
“Yeah, should we sneak into Professor Sprout’s greenhouse tonight and nab a couple? I heard she only grew a few mandrakes this year.”
“Maybe we could use them to master seventh-year techniques.”
But their musings were met with silence.
“What’s wrong, mate?” George asked again.
After being asked twice, Angelina couldn’t help but look up from poking her button. She was a pretty, dark-skinned girl, a member of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, bright and cheerful, but her eyes were slightly red now.
“I think you should stop bringing that up, Fred,” Angelina said hoarsely. “You two managed to answer all the questions, but the rest of us couldn’t figure out a single one.”
