Though it remained unclear whether this mystical art of Divination could truly foretell the future with any accuracy, even before the lesson had ended, Draco was already certain that the rumors Pansy had heard weren't baseless.
Mad, delusional charlatans.
At the very least, Draco didn't believe that staring into the tea leaves at the bottom of a cup could possibly reveal one's future.
"Swirl the tea leaves three times with your left hand, then turn the cup upside down. Wait until the last drop of liquid drains out, then give your cup to your partner for interpretation."
Listening to the soft, airy voice, Draco swiftly flipped through the pages of the book on the table—Unfogging the Future. His distracted manner made it clear he wasn't paying attention to how the shapes of the tea leaves were supposed to be read.
Of course, Draco had no intention of looking at the tea leaves in his cup. That would be utterly foolish.
According to Trelawney, Draco's aura was "small," and his receptiveness to the resonance of the future was "dreadful." In polite terms, that meant he lacked talent. In less polite ones—it meant he was useless.
Hermione, notably, had been the first to receive such an assessment. The proud girl had been furious for half the lesson, slamming her teacup on the table more than once in indignation.
Meanwhile, Pansy was eyeing the professor, who drifted around the room between the students, with open skepticism.
"Clearly, our Divination professor hasn't inherited her family's gift."
"I'd say so. Looks like the Trelawney family really has fallen on hard times."
Cassandra Trelawney had been a true Seer. But in Draco's eyes, her great-granddaughter, Sybill Trelawney, was nothing more than a tipsy fraud—a fortune-teller fond of cheap parlor tricks.
After all, before the class had even started, she had already predicted Harry Potter's death.
And her reason? The tea leaves at the bottom of Harry's cup supposedly resembled a large dog.
The absurdity of it all reminded Pansy of something she'd heard.
"I've heard rumors that the Ministry, after piecing together bits of evidence, believes the recently escaped Sirius Black never actually left Britain. In fact, they think there's a strong chance his target is Harry Potter."
Pansy's words made Draco lift his head. Looking through the crystal ball on the table, he saw Pansy's cute face blurred in the mist.
"That explains why the Dementors are here," she murmured. "I'm certain Sybill Trelawney knows something."
Just then, a sudden raspy sound broke the air and froze everyone in place.
It was Sybill Trelawney.
She looked utterly strange now—her eyes rolling aimlessly in their sockets, her thin frame trembling in small spasms. The sight startled the students; she looked like someone suffering from a terminal illness.
Her gaze was unfocused, her chin drooped, and for a moment, she seemed like a completely different person.
"The Dark Lord lies alone, friendless, abandoned by his comrades. For twelve years, his servant has been locked away... but now, that has changed. He has found an ally. They share a spirit... ugh!"
Mid-sentence, the professor suddenly let out a low grunt and slumped forward as though the air had left her lungs. Then, just as abruptly, she lifted her head again.
"My apologies, dear child. You must forgive me—this daytime heat sometimes makes me doze off."
Ron, who was carefully retrieving his cup from her hand, stared at Professor Trelawney with a strange look.
"Professor? You just said..."
"Is something wrong, dear?"
"No, it's just... Harry, you heard that too, right?"
Listening to their exchange, every student in the room felt a chill creep down their spine as they stared at the oblivious professor.
Mysterious—like something out of a dream.
And somehow, after witnessing what had just happened, none of them were quite sure anymore whether Divination could truly predict the future...
...
With a look of hesitation, that morning's Divination class finally came to an end.
Yet the unease it left behind lingered well into the afternoon's Transfiguration lesson...
"Draco, do you think what just happened was real or fake?"
"I don't know... but her family has produced several true Seers. Perhaps there's still some trace of that prophetic gift in her bloodline."
"So the Dark Lord will have an ally in the future?"
"You worry too much. There'll always be a few wizards loyal to him. Otherwise, for someone calling himself the Dark Lord, that'd be quite the failure."
Compared to what had just been said, Draco found himself more concerned with what hadn't been.
His instincts told him that the unspoken part mattered far more...
In truth, it wasn't only Pansy. Every young wizard who had attended that Divination class seemed affected in some way—and it showed clearly during Transfiguration.
"Honestly, what's gotten into you all today?"
Professor McGonagall, who had just transformed back from a tabby cat, looked utterly perplexed that her demonstration hadn't earned so much as a single clap.
At her question, most of the students turned their eyes toward Harry Potter's seat.
When no one volunteered an explanation, Hermione raised her hand.
"Professor, we just had Divination class. Professor Trelawney had us read tea leaves, and then..."
"I see. No need to continue, Miss Granger. Tell me—who among you will die this year?"
"....."
Everyone froze, wide-eyed, the same thought flashing through their minds.
Could Professor McGonagall also be a prophet?
That thought didn't last long, however, as her expression twisted with clear disdain.
"In fact, ever since Sybill Trelawney came to Hogwarts, she's predicted a student's death every single year. Yet so far, every one of them is still alive and well."
It was obvious that Professor McGonagall had little patience for Trelawney's habit of making unsolicited death prophecies about her students.
"Listen carefully. Divination is one of the least reliable branches of magic. Frankly, I have very little tolerance for it. More importantly, very few wizards are truly capable of foreseeing the future—and quite clearly, your Professor Trelawney is not one of them."
Her words managed to ease the tension for most of the students, though not everyone seemed convinced.
After all, it didn't explain Professor Trelawney's strange behavior earlier.
Especially for Harry Potter.
Only he knew that not long ago, he had truly seen a large black dog—exactly what Trelawney had prophesied as his omen of death.
What no one noticed was that nearby, Ron Weasley seemed oddly distracted...