Harry climbed up the silver ladder to Professor Trelawney's room after Ron.
He had waited a full twenty minutes for Ron, so he was already prepared for a long wait.
However, when he entered the room, he was instantly enveloped by a wave of heat.
All the curtains were tightly drawn, completely airtight.
Although it was already June, the fire in the fireplace was burning fiercely, unscrupulously releasing heat.
The usual cloying fragrance permeated the air, even more intense, choking Harry until he couldn't help coughing, his throat was stinging.
Harry struggled around the chaotically placed tables and chairs, walking toward Professor Trelawney, who sat before a large crystal ball.
Trelawney was surrounded by hazy light and shadow, swaying uncertainly in the dim firelight and incense smoke.
"Hello, dear."
Professor Trelawney slowly raised her head, her gaze falling on Harry as she spoke in her familiar, dreamlike, soft and ethereal voice.
"Please look into this crystal ball... look slowly... then tell me what you see..."
Harry obeyed, bending down and peering intently into the crystal ball, staring hard at it.
He really hoped to see something special beyond the constantly swirling white mist.
However, as time passed minute by minute, nothing appeared except that endlessly monotonous swirling white mist.
The scene in the crystal ball was like a desolate white wasteland.
"Well?" Professor Trelawney showed no anxiety, still maintaining her gentle tone. "My child, what do you see?"
The temperature in the room was unbearably high, the heat like invisible shackles tightly binding Harry.
He was stung painfully by the smoke drifting from the nearby fireplace, each breath feeling like it was burning his nasal passages, making him desperately want to escape this suffocating place.
Ron had just described his experience when he came down, so Harry decided to imitate Ron and pretend to see something.
"Uh—" Harry squinted slightly, putting on an expression of complete concentration as if he had seen something in the crystal ball. "A shadow... yes... I see a shadow."
"What does it look like?" Professor Trelawney asked softly, her voice as light as a feather. "Think... what exactly does it look like?"
Harry knew full well that no matter what answer he gave, this professor would most likely connect it to some ominous sign.
After thinking for a moment, he said a name that would give the professor pause.
Harry spoke with certainty, a hint of cunning in his eyes.
"What I see is a person! It's my best friend, the school detective—Sherlock Holmes!"
"Is that so?" Professor Trelawney murmured, and the quill that had been eagerly recording something on the parchment on her knee suddenly paused, leaving a dark ink blot on the parchment.
"My child, you may very well have seen the fateful bond between yourself and poor Mr. Holmes! Look carefully... Mr. Holmes's shadow... is it complete?"
"Very complete." Harry said firmly without hesitation, his eyes showing unquestionable conviction.
"Are you certain?" Professor Trelawney pursued relentlessly; her gaze locked on Harry as if trying to extract more information from his expression. "Are you sure, child? You don't see him struggling violently, with a shadow behind him preparing to devour him?"
'What the hell?'
Harry silently complained internally, though his face remained calm.
"No!" Harry answered firmly again. By now his stomach was churning and he felt like vomiting. "He's very well, standing tall, very healthy."
"No crying? No injuries? No blood?"
Professor Trelawney continued questioning, her voice carrying a trace of urgency, as if eager to get an answer from Harry that met her expectations.
"No!" Harry frowned; his tone somewhat impatient.
Professor Trelawney's words were like sharp noise, making him increasingly feel this room was stuffily nauseating, the air was pressing on his nerves.
"He looks very well, he's holding a walking stick in his right hand, his left hand should have a pipe, he's wearing a deerstalker hat, and... he walked away."
Harry improvised, the classic Sherlock image he had seen when learning the Patronus Charm with Professor Lupin and Sherlock floating into his mind, and he blurted it all out.
He vaguely felt that the more detailed his description, the more successfully he could fool Professor Trelawney.
Sure enough, after he finished speaking, Professor Trelawney sighed softly.
"Well, child, we'll leave it there... Though somewhat disappointing... but I believe you've done your best."
Harry also breathed a long sigh of relief.
'Great, finally over!'
He stood up shakily, his legs were even somewhat numb from maintaining one position for so long.
He quickly grabbed his bag and was about to turn toward the door.
He felt that staying in this room even one second longer might suffocate him.
Just then, he heard a loud, harsh voice behind him.
The voice seemed to come from another world, breaking the originally oppressive atmosphere.
"It will happen tonight."
Harry felt like he'd been struck by an electric current, his body was jerking violently as he spun around.
He saw Professor Trelawney sitting rigidly straight in the armchair, her posture was stiff as a wooden carving.
Her eyes were vacant, unmoving, as if covered by an invisible film, her mouth slightly open—her appearance quite eerie.
Harry was frightened by this sudden turn of events.
In his memory, he had never seen Professor Trelawney look like this.
A chill rose from his spine, and he couldn't help asking.
"You—what did you say?"
However, Professor Trelawney seemed not to hear Harry's words at all. Her eyeballs began slowly rotating, as if struggling against some invisible resistance.
Harry stood frozen in place, feeling like the professor was about to have some kind of episode.
He hesitated, wondering whether to run find Sherlock.
Wait, Sherlock wasn't a doctor—he should go to the Hospital Wing to find Madam Pomfrey.
Just then, Professor Trelawney spoke again.
Still that same harsh voice, completely unlike her usual dreamlike tone, as if another soul was speaking through her mouth.
What made Harry even more horrified was what she said next.
"The Dark Lord lies alone, friendless, abandoned by his followers. His most faithful servant has been chained for twelve years.
Tonight, his most faithful servant will break free from his chains.
Tonight, a strong and powerful ally will join forces with him.
Tonight, with their help, the Dark Lord will rise again.
He will be stronger and more terrible than before. Tonight... that ally... will set out... to meet the Dark Lord... that servant... will break free from his chains..."
As Professor Trelawney spoke, her voice became increasingly broken, like an old roars struggling to pump.
Finally, her head drooped to her chest, making gurgling sounds, like muffled syllables squeezed from deep in her throat.
Then, very suddenly, her head lifted again, the movement stiff and abrupt.
"I'm sorry, dear child."
Professor Trelawney spoke hazily. "The weather is so hot, you know... I dozed off..."
Harry still stared at her blankly.
His brain was still struggling to process the terrible prophecy he had just heard, unable to believe it all for a moment.
Noticing Harry's expression, Professor Trelawney seemed surprised. "Is something wrong, dear?"
"You—you just told me that—that the Dark Lord is going to rise again... someone will help him rise again..."
"The Dark Lord? He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"
Professor Trelawney appeared greatly shocked, her eyes wide with disbelief, immediately crying out. "My dear child, that's no joke... rise again, goodness—"
"But that's what you just said! You said the Dark Lord—"
"I think you must have fallen asleep too, dear!"
Professor Trelawney immediately interrupted Harry, saying decisively. "I surely couldn't have prophesied something so preposterous!
The exam is over, hurry up and leave!"
Harry climbed down the ladder and spiral staircase, his steps unsteady, his mind full of doubts.
Could it be that Professor Trelawney felt ending the exam this way would leave a deep impression?
But looking at her appearance, it didn't seem like that?
Or... had he just heard Professor Trelawney make a real prophecy?
Thinking this, Harry's heart couldn't help but pound, as if about to burst from his chest.
A strong unease spread through his heart.
Five minutes later, Harry rushed past the Gryffindor Tower entrance.
Professor Trelawney's words still echoed in his mind.
People came toward him, laughing and talking as they headed to the grounds to enjoy that long-awaited bit of freedom, but Harry had no time to notice.
When he reached the Fat Lady's portrait hole and climbed into the common room, it was almost empty.
However, Sherlock and Hermione sat in a corner, and not far away Ron seemed to be trying to persuade Neville, though the situation didn't look ideal.
After hearing Harry's description of what had just happened, Hermione covered her mouth in surprise.
Clearly, this girl who had always considered Professor Trelawney an old fraud was now uncertain.
As for Sherlock, his eyes burst with unprecedented brilliance.
"Sherlock, what are you thinking?"
Seeing Sherlock like this, his two friends who knew him best immediately realized something.
"Yes."
Sherlock smiled slightly, looking at Harry. "You, and Professor Trelawney, have answered a question that's been puzzling me."
"You mean Professor Trelawney really made a prophecy—a real prophecy?"
"That's right. Who would have thought that this professor who likes to prophesy every day is usually talking nonsense. But at the critical moment, she unexpectedly gives us a surprise."
Sherlock laughed. "How unexpected. I didn't think Professor Trelawney would make another real prophecy. All the exams are over, Harry. Rest well today. Tomorrow we'll go see Dumbledore. I need to suggest the headmaster give her a raise."
"Huh?"
Both Harry and Hermione looked at Sherlock in astonishment.
Since Sherlock had already determined that Professor Trelawney had made a real prophecy, and the content of the prophecy was that Voldemort would rise again with the help of an ally and servant.
But why was his reaction so calm?
Because it was so unexpected, neither of them even noticed why Sherlock had said "another."
"But—but you've already stopped Peter Pettigrew, Sirius's injustice has been appealed, Voldemort can't possibly rise again!"
"Dear Harry, we cannot view problems in an isolated, one-sided, static way. When using the deductive method to make inferences, I always deliberately avoid unconsciously falling into metaphysics. This is even more true after learning about the wizarding world, so predicting the future is very difficult, and this Professor Trelawney is living proof."
Hermione keenly raised a question. "You mean Peter Pettigrew might still be rescued?"
"I don't rule out that possibility," Sherlock smiled slightly. "Alright, let's discuss this question tomorrow when we see Dumbledore. It really is quite late today."
Harry nodded.
Although still doubtful, he understood that since Sherlock said this, there must be a reason.
Hermione looked at Sherlock, her eyes showing determination.
"I want to go with you too."
"Dear Hermione, even if you come to the headmaster's office, I think he'll still ask you to leave."
"I'm going anyway!" Hermione looked at Sherlock stubbornly. "If he really kicks me out, then we'll talk."
"And me!" Ron also came over at this point.
The commotion here had long attracted his attention.
After quickly getting rid of Neville, he came over.
Although he hadn't heard the first half, he understood the current situation.
Sherlock and Harry had something important to discuss with Dumbledore tomorrow, and Hermione wanted to go too.
In that case, how could he be left out?
The next day, in the headmaster's office.
In the end, Sherlock brought his three companions to see Dumbledore.
However, after Sherlock related the prophecy Professor Trelawney had made to Harry, Dumbledore's deep gaze behind his half-moon spectacles swept over Ron and Hermione, his smile tinged with helplessness.
"Ron, Hermione, though I'm very sorry, I still must ask—could you please leave for a moment?"
His tone was gentle, his voice softly echoing in the room.
Seeing Dumbledore say this in a gentle tone, Ron and Hermione were immediately dumbfounded.
They looked at each other, their eyes full of loss and confusion.
"Sir, does it have to be this way?" Ron said urgently, stepping forward, his face full of anxiety. "Sherlock and Harry will definitely tell us about this afterward anyway, so why must we leave?"
His eyes were full of expectation, hoping Dumbledore would change his mind.
"Don't worry, Ron." Dumbledore smiled slightly, his smile carrying a hint of mystery. "This time I'll specifically remind them not to tell you about this matter."
Ron was immediately dumbfounded.
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