"Truthfully, I don't know much about prophecy, since I cannot perform it myself. When you came to class, I'm sure many of you had already heard from your seniors that Professor Sybill Trelawney is an odd character. In her lessons, all you really need to do is make up something about your own death, and you'll easily get the credits. As long as you follow Professor Trelawney's lead, it will be a decent choice both for your House and for yourself. Don't you agree?"
Regulus Black's Divination class was still held in the same room as before, with none of the decorations altered. However, since this was the first lesson, he had used the Extension Charm to enlarge the space, making it big enough to accommodate every student who had chosen Divination—from third years all the way to the graduating class.
The students burst into laughter at Regulus Black's words.
"Now, let us discuss what prophecy is, its classifications, and how to make prophecies as well as avoid those that might bring misfortune upon yourself."
The laughter stopped instantly. Hadn't he just said he didn't understand prophecy? Hadn't he just said he couldn't prophesy at all? So why was he suddenly teaching the subject with such gravity?
"First, let's talk about what prophecy actually is. Since your views on it differ, I won't ask you to answer. Simply put, prophecy means to state events that have not yet happened. It's that straightforward."
Regulus Black turned around, picked up a teacup from his desk—an object many people had used before for practice. The method was simple: pour tea, drink it, then look into the cup for the tea leaves, which became the basis for divination.
"I say, when I release this cup, it will shatter on the floor. That is a prophecy."
His words stirred whispers among the students.
"I say, before entering this classroom, this very cup had already fallen and shattered. That is prophecy."
"I say, when the classroom was empty, someone came in, knocked the cup over, and it broke. That is prophecy."
"I say, this broken cup is the work of one of you students. That too is prophecy."
Regulus Black set the cup down.
"The four statements I just made all count as prophecy. Events that have not yet occurred qualify, but so do events that have already happened but remain unobserved. Remember this, as you will need it for your assignments."
The students quickly bent their heads to jot everything down.
"Prophecy can also take the form of speculation or statistics. We might guess that something will happen, and then it does—that is prophecy. Or we might gather data, conclude that an event is imminent, and when it occurs, that too is prophecy. But such prophecies are so simple that few believe in true prophecy anymore."
Regulus Black's words seemed to contradict what he had just explained. The students were baffled.
"Now, let's talk about the types of prophecy. In fact, there are only two."
He raised two fingers in a V sign.
"First, prophecies that will inevitably happen once spoken. No matter what you do, no matter how you try to change them, you cannot succeed. Circumstances and accidents will always conspire against you. Often, the prophecy is misunderstood, leading you to act wrongly, until the prediction comes to pass. Then you realize you overlooked countless clues, and the final result is precisely the one you wished to avoid."
This was material not found in any book, leaving the students intrigued.
"Second, prophecies that can be changed once spoken. These are unstable, foretelling only part of the truth. After the prophecy is made, the outcome can shift based on the conditions, and each change gives rise to new prophecies. Many dismiss such prophecies, saying, 'If the content can change, then what kind of prophecy is it?'"
Regulus Black shrugged with a helpless gesture.
"We don't know which type of prophecy is better, or which is more desirable. Do we want an unalterable future? Or a mutable one whose outcome we cannot foresee?"
He held out both hands as if weighing two crystal balls, mimicking the dilemma of choosing.
"There is actually a third kind—a prophecy that only produces results once it has been spoken. Since we cannot distinguish it from the first type, we usually do not discuss it."
He lifted his left hand as though holding this unseen third prophecy before him.
Clap!
Suddenly, Regulus Black smacked his hands together, startling the entire class.
"Now, how does one make a prophecy? First, you must possess a gift. This gift can be hereditary, as with Professor Sybill Trelawney, who comes from a lineage of true Seers. Any words she speaks could potentially be prophecy."
The revelation astonished the students. So their eccentric professor bore such a bloodline!
"But what about those without Seer ancestry? Can we not prophesy? Not so. It depends on whether you possess the gift. This gift we call intuition, perception, inspiration, or any similar term. Muggles like to use the phrase 'sixth sense' to describe it—a sense beyond the five human senses, used to broadly explain such phenomena."
Regulus Black was one of the few professors who openly mentioned Muggles in class.
"Often, when children study, parents don't interfere. But once the child finishes homework and starts playing, the parents somehow sense the child is no longer studying. They go check, and indeed, the child has stopped. Many children wonder: why don't parents show up when I'm studying, but the moment I play, they arrive without fail? That's the sixth sense—a parent's intuition about their child's state."
The further he spoke, the more astonished the students became.
"No wonder I always get caught when I play pranks."
A miserable voice from the back prompted laughter throughout the room. Many shared the same experience.
"To test whether you have the gift, you must train this sense continuously. Professor Trelawney once had you read tea leaves, gaze into crystal balls, and invent prophecies. All of these are training methods. Yet none of you ever truly studied or trained yourselves. That was your choice—you abandoned the chance to enter a great and pivotal field of wizardry. And in your laughter, it has slipped away."
His sudden solemnity froze the students who had been laughing moments earlier.
"Professor Trelawney has been at Hogwarts for over a decade, and most of you have taken her course. Yet all of you treated it as an easy way to earn credits. In all those years, she hasn't produced a single Seer. Do you think it's because she can't teach?"
Half of Hogwarts fell into silence at that question.
"I've studied her entire curriculum and methods, and I can tell you there are no mistakes. It is the same as Dolores Umbridge's so-called 'new' Defense Against the Dark Arts curriculum from the Ministry—different from the standard texts, yes, but still effective."
Mentioning Dolores Umbridge, that clownish failure, drew no laughter this time.
"Professor Trelawney's teaching, like those new Ministry textbooks, may be dry and dull. But if you work diligently through them, step by step, you will succeed. Yet you rejected it, just as you rejected the new Ministry material. You disliked it, so you made no effort. And while you gained plenty of credits, not one of you learned prophecy."
At that moment, the class clock chimed—the lesson was over.
"Since none of you can make prophecies, there is no need to learn how to avoid the ones that bring misfortune. Class dismissed."
Want to read the chapters in Advance? Join my Patreon
https://patreon.com/Glimmer09