Undoubtedly, most students thoroughly enjoyed this lesson in Care of Magical Creatures.
Jon even felt this class could almost be considered the pinnacle of Hagrid's teaching career. Adorable creatures like the Niffler were far more popular than Hippogriffs or Thestrals.
However, within minutes, the smiles on their faces faded.
As they made their way back to the castle after the bell rang, long before they reached the gates, a woman's shrill screams echoed across the grounds. The sound seemed to be coming from the direction of the Entrance Hall.
"What's that noise?" Several nearby Slytherin students murmured to one another.
The screams rang out again.
"That sounds like… Professor Trelawney?" Astoria frowned, her voice low.
"Yes—it's definitely Trelawney's voice!"
...
The cries were indeed coming from the Entrance Hall, and as they drew closer, the screams grew louder.
By the time they arrived, the hall was already packed with people. Many students who had been eating lunch or coming from the Great Hall had rushed over to see what was happening, crowding even more tightly onto the marble staircase.
Jon pushed through a group of older students and spotted several teachers among the crowd—Professor Flitwick, Professor Sprout, and Madam Hooch. Their faces were etched with discomfort and distress.
At the center of it all stood Professor Sybill Trelawney.
She held a wand in one hand and a bottle in the other, She looked completely unhinged—her hair wild and tangled, her glasses askew, and her shawl and scarf hung loosely around her shoulders, giving her a disheveled, almost ragged look. Beside her were two large suitcases, one overturned as though it had been thrown down the stairs.
Professor Trelawney stared in terror at something—or rather, someone—at the foot of the stairs.
"No!" she pleaded. "This can't be… you can't do this… I refuse!"
"Oh, but I can!" came a high, girlish voice, sweet yet cutting. "Under Educational Decree Number Twenty-Three, the Chief Inquisitor of Hogwarts—namely, me—has the authority to inspect, place on probation, and dismiss any Hogwarts instructor!"
Dolores Umbridge straightened her back, making sure the Order of Merlin, First Class, gleamed proudly on her chest.
She added with a saccharine smile, "My dear Sybill, though you can't even predict tomorrow's weather, surely you must realize that your dreadful performance during my observations—and your complete lack of improvement since—would inevitably lead to your dismissal?"
"No… you can't… you can't!" Professor Trelawney sobbed, tears welling behind her spectacles. "You can't dismiss me! I've been in this castle… I've been here for sixteen years! Hog… Hogwarts is my… my home!"
Her voice broke repeatedly between hiccups and gasps.
"Of course, it was your home," Umbridge said smugly.
Seeing Trelawney collapse onto one of her suitcases, sobbing uncontrollably, Umbridge's eyes glimmered with cruel satisfaction.
"Just one hour ago, the esteemed Minister of Magic, Mr. Cornelius Fudge, signed your dismissal order," she went on, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "So now, Sybill, please leave the hall. Don't make this difficult for us."
Amidst scattered footsteps, Professor Minerva McGonagall pushed through the crowd and strode directly to Trelawney's side. She placed a firm hand on her back and drew a large handkerchief from her robes to wipe away her tears.
"Now, now, Sybill—compose yourself," McGonagall said softly, her voice gentler than ever before. "It's not as bad as you think. You won't be leaving Hogwarts…"
"Oh, is that so, Professor McGonagall?" Umbridge stepped forward, her tone dripping with venom. "And by whose permission, may I ask?"
"Mine."
A deep, commanding voice echoed from beyond the castle doors.
...
The oak doors swung open, and the students nearby quickly moved aside.
Professor Albus Dumbledore stepped through the doorway, his presence radiating calm authority.
He strode through the crowd toward Professor Trelawney, who still sat trembling on her suitcase, her face streaked with tears.
"You, Professor Dumbledore?" Umbridge let out a shrill, unpleasant laugh. "I'm afraid you're not aware—I have here a dismissal order signed by myself and the Minister of Magic. According to Educational Decree Number Twenty-Three—"
"Under whichever decree it may be," Dumbledore interrupted sternly, "you may dismiss my teachers. But you do not have the power to banish them from the castle grounds."
He gave a small, courteous bow. "That authority, I'm afraid, still belongs to the Headmaster."
Turning toward McGonagall, Dumbledore said calmly, "Minerva, please escort Sybill back to her quarters."
Professor McGonagall immediately helped Trelawney to her feet. Professor Flitwick hurried over, waving his wand so that the two large suitcases floated gently into the air and followed behind them.
"Very well…" Umbridge muttered under her breath, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "But I swear, this authority of yours is only temporary…"
Dumbledore gave no sign that he'd heard her. After giving his instructions, he turned and walked back through the oak doors without looking back.
...
As the professors departed, the gathered crowd slowly began to disperse.
Yet many of the older Slytherin students remained.
"Christopher!" Pansy Parkinson exclaimed. "That prophecy you made months ago…"
"Falcon—Professor Trelawney will face a mortal enemy. Tower—she'll encounter the greatest crisis of her life and nearly lose everything she holds dear. And the Sun—at her darkest hour, someone will reach out and pull her back from the brink!" Pansy repeated the words Jon had once spoken in Divination class.
"Every word of it came true," Draco Malfoy said, taking a deep breath before patting Jon on the shoulder. "Chris, that old fool Dumbledore should've made you the Divination professor instead."
"If you can see through the mists of time, predicting such things isn't that difficult," Jon replied calmly.
They exchanged a few more quiet words before parting.
Just before leaving, Draco turned back and said, "This Sunday—the second Hogsmeade trip of the term. Same time, same place. Don't forget—our D.A. meeting."