Sunday morning dawned with fierce winds howling outside. Jon woke early and leafed lazily through Secrets of the Darkest Art to kill time.
"What are you looking at?" Sean Avery asked curiously, leaning closer.
When he caught sight of the illustration on the open page—a man's soul being torn alive from his body—Avery stumbled back several steps, his eyes filling with alarm.
"S-sorry... I didn't mean to interrupt you, Christopher..." he stammered.
"It's fine," Jon replied evenly, his tone calm.
After leafing through the book for nearly half an hour without finding anything useful, Jon placed it back into his suitcase and locked it securely.
He then left the Slytherin common room and headed toward the Great Hall. Before leaving for Hogsmeade, he needed to grab a quick breakfast.
...
At half past eight, Jon arrived at the oak front doors along with a large crowd of students.
Filch stood there as always, checking off names from the list of those permitted to visit Hogsmeade. The process was even slower than usual this time, as he insisted on waving his Probity Probe over each student several times.
"Orders from the High Inquisitor..." Filch said with a grin. "School access should be under stricter control."
The walk to Hogsmeade was far from pleasant.
The cold wind lashed Jon's face, sharp as blades, even with his thick scarf wrapped tightly around his neck.
Fortunately, the distance wasn't far. Around 8:55, Jon arrived punctually outside the Three Broomsticks.
The street was nearly empty. Except for a oddly dressed man loitering outside the Hog's Head, the street was empty. Inside, however, the Three Broomsticks was as lively as ever.
Madam Rosmerta's memory was sharp as ever—she recognized Jon at a glance.
"Mr. Patrick?" she asked warmly. "Here to see Draco?"
"Yes, ma'am," Jon nodded.
"They're in their usual spot," she said with a smile. "Once you're inside, please tell Draco I'll bring the mead and Butterbeer in about five minutes."
"Alright," Jon replied.
...
The small basement room was already crowded when Jon entered.
Only the seats at the far end remained open—Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson sat on either side.
As soon as Jon stepped in, the gathered members of the Knights of Walpurgis rose to their feet.
With all three of Trelawney's prophecies having come true, they all now truly believed Jon was a gifted Seer.
"Sit down, everyone, there's no need for that," Jon said casually, waving a hand before taking the innermost seat. "Now then, what's the latest?"
"Potter and his group have definitely been meeting," Draco Malfoy spoke first. "It's somewhere on the eighth floor—near the tapestry of the troll beating up Barnabas the Barmy. Filch and I have tailed them several times, but we haven't been able to locate the exact room yet."
"Good work, Draco," Jon said thoughtfully, nodding. "Keep tracking them until you find their precise meeting place—but don't spook them too soon."
Next, Blaise Zabini spoke up quietly. "That Rubeus Hagrid—I've seen him sneaking into the Forbidden Forest several times recently. Every time he comes back, he's covered in injuries."
"Hahaha, Blaise, why are you so concerned about a half-giant?" Jon chuckled. "Everyone knows Hagrid keeps a bunch of dangerous creatures in that forest. Getting banged up is hardly surprising."
"True..." Blaise admitted with an embarrassed nod. "Christopher, I was overreacting."
The other members began reporting their own observations around the school, and Jon listened carefully, responding to each and jotting notes in his notebook.
...
Nearly half an hour passed before Jon finally closed the notebook.
"Good work, everyone," he said. "I'll compile these reports and find a chance to pass them along to Umbridge."
As he tucked the notebook into his pocket, Jon noticed a hesitant expression flicker across Malfoy's face.
"What is it, Draco?" he asked.
"Well... Christopher... could you maybe predict my future?" Malfoy said awkwardly. "Like, what dangers I might face... and, um, who my future wife will be?"
At the mention of "wife," Pansy Parkinson's eyes immediately lit up beside him.
"A prophecy, huh?" Jon said, momentarily taken aback. "I'd need a crystal ball for that..."
"I brought one!" Malfoy blurted, yanking a crystal ball from his bag.
Jon raised an eyebrow. "Prepared, aren't you?"
With no choice but to play along, he accepted the crystal ball and gazed deeply into it, muttering under his breath.
No one in the room dared to make a sound.
After three or four minutes, Jon finally set the crystal ball down, his expression solemn.
"What did you see?" Malfoy asked nervously.
"I caught a glimpse of the future," Jon said gravely. "But there are things I cannot speak aloud. I can only offer you a hint, Draco."
Seeing Malfoy's anxious eyes fixed on him, Jon said in a low, steady voice, "You will be given a task—one nearly impossible to complete. And the consequences of failure will be dire."
"Then what should I do?" Malfoy asked, his face pale.
"Seek help from someone willing to aid you," Jon said firmly. "Even if you think they're not to be trusted."
...
The ominous prophecy sent a chill through the room, smothering the lively atmosphere from moments earlier.
Sensing the tension, Jon swiftly changed the subject, and soon the group resumed chatting more comfortably.
Pansy Parkinson pulled a copy of The Daily Prophet from her bag, reading idly as she talked.
Jon's eyes drifted toward the paper—and he froze when he spotted a familiar face in the photograph on the front page.
"May I see that for a moment, Pansy?" he asked politely.
"Of course," Pansy said, handing it to him.
Jon took the paper and scanned the headline, his expression growing grim.
It read—
"Madam Diana Greengrass, Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, has been suspended pending investigation."