The classroom was dead quiet except for the scratch of chalk on the blackboard.
Melvin spoke slowly, ditching the fancy jargon for plain, straight talk:
"Even Muggles have tons of stories about prophecies. Some actually came true in recorded history, so a bunch of Muggle scholars got obsessed. They studied the whole process and figured out that once the person the prophecy is about hears it, it starts fulfilling itself and boom; it happens…"
He told them about the Pygmalion effect, named after a king from ancient Greek myth; a master sculptor whose statues looked alive. After his mom and first love ditched him, he swore off carving women. But one morning he started an ivory discus-thrower… and ended up with the girl from his dreams.
He took it as a sign from the gods, poured his heart into it, and made a gorgeous statue. Then he begged Aphrodite to turn her into a real woman and make her his wife.
The kids were hooked.
Muggle myths are full of wizard shadows, but some are just religious fables meant to teach lessons. That's the part Muggles made up based on real life.
Through these fun stories, young witches and wizards could peek into Muggle minds; exactly what Muggle Studies was for.
"Forget the gods and faith stuff," Melvin said, stepping out from behind the desk and pacing the aisles. "What I want you to get is this: how one person acts toward another; and what they expect; can push that person to live up to it."
He told them about a Muggle named Rosenthal thirty years back; a teacher. He gave some kids fake test results saying they were super smart and hardworking. After a while, those average kids actually got smarter and more confident.
Then there was the Golem effect: if a teacher expects the worst, normal kids start acting out, losing patience, bombing the subject; proving the teacher "right."
"Even here at Hogwarts, we've got biases," Melvin said. "Everyone says Ravenclaws are book-smart but suck at Quidditch. Is that really true?"
Silence.
Harry's mind went straight to Potions.
Before he ever touched a cauldron, Hagrid told him his mom was a genius at it. Harry was excited. Then first class, Snape tore into him, mocked everything he did, and killed any love for the subject. Barely scraped Acceptable on homework and tests.
No wonder I suck at Potions!
Ron muttered it under his breath. Seamus and Dean nodded like it was gospel, whispering agreement.
Harry glanced at them, face complicated. You guys do worse than me, chat in class, zone out, and barely get called on. That's on you.
"If anyone's actually been wrecked by negative expectations…" Harry's eyes slid to Neville, a few rows over.
The thirteen-year-old had shot up over the summer; half a head taller, baby fat gone, sleeves baggy on his arms.
Harry, Ron, and the others got Snape's venom after coming to Hogwarts. Neville had been beaten down his whole life; even believed deep down he was slow, talentless, clumsy.
With that mindset, of course he bombed in class. First Potions lesson, he melted a cauldron and ended up covered in boils.
Then Professor Lewent taught him the Summoning Charm, made him drama club president; small wins that built confidence. Now Neville shone in Herbology and theater.
He stared up at Melvin, eyes shining.
"Professor," a Ravenclaw called, "expectations might affect grades, but Trelawney's prophecies are about life. She said Lavender's gonna have bad luck, Neville's gran's in danger, Harry's gonna face death."
"That brings us to the next part."
Melvin smiled gently, glancing at the named students. "Murphy's Law. Simple version: if something can go wrong, someone will make it go wrong. Or: bad stuff will happen."
Some kids looked lost.
"You've all experienced this…"
Melvin drawled. "Toast always lands butter-side down. Your mate can tap-dance down stairs no problem, but you try skipping steps and eat it. You leave the dorm with seconds to spare; always late. Quidditch practice; someone always flies into the goal hoop or the stands."
The room exploded:
"Yup! Every time!"
"I swear I'm cursed!"
"I was late yesterday exactly like that."
Melvin listened, smiling. Some thoughts are universal; exactly what Muggles studied with stats and psychology.
"When you're convinced something bad's coming, you act different. Anxiety makes you hesitate. You overthink stairs, lose sleep studying; and boom, it happens."
He broke it down. "Prophecies also mess with your focus. You expect bad, so your brain flags every negative sign, ignores the good. Toast doesn't always land jam-down. You're not always late…"
"Professor, I still don't get it," Lavender said timidly, raising her hand.
"Okay, let's make it real simple." He looked her in the eye. "What did Trelawney say?"
"That the thing I'm scared of will happen on Friday, October 15th."
"And that thing is…?"
Lavender frowned, stumped.
"See? You don't even know." Melvin threw up his hands. "I could list a dozen things you're scared of: waking up with a zit, no jam at breakfast, Snape calling on you, McGonagall failing your essay, accidentally killing a rat in Care of Creatures…"
Lavender's eyes went wide; she hadn't realized she worried about that much.
"As long as one happens, the prophecy 'comes true.' But should you live in fear?"
She shook her head fast.
"What about Neville's gran?" someone else asked.
"Even easier. I met Mrs. Longbottom once. Don't know her exact age, but anyone over sixty gets sick sometimes; colds, aches, maybe yelled herself hoarse writing a Howler…"
He looked at Neville in the front row. "But I'm positive your gran's in no real danger."
Neville nodded, grateful.
Harry straightened, courage rising, hope in his eyes.
"And Harry's 'death omens' and mortal enemy?"
Melvin paused, then grinned. "Hasn't he faced those the past two two years?"
Silence; then laughter erupted.
Everyone knew: Quirrell and the Stone, the basilisk in the Chamber; death had been hovering since day one.
Harry swapped looks with Ron and Hermione, tension melting. The vague prophecy didn't scare him anymore.
As the chatter died down, Melvin returned to the front. Once they quieted, he wrapped up:
"Muggles explain prophecies as self-fulfilling once heard.
"But that doesn't mean wizard prophecies are fake. Real seers can glimpse the future with rituals.
"So don't ditch Divination.
"Trelawney has made a world-changing prophecy. Her grandmother Cassandra was legendary. The library has records; ask her if you're curious."
He checked the time; first class of term, dragged out just right.
"That's it for today. Next week we start proper Muggle Studies."
He wiped the board. Kids packed up, chattering about prophecies. He smiled and waved Neville over.
Neville hurried up, bag in hand. "Professor Lewent."
"Been almost three months since St. Mungo's," Melvin said, hands empty, smiling. "How are your parents?"
"Mental function's mostly back. Just no memories. They remember simple stuff."
"They know who they are, can write, cast spells, recognize close family; but it's all old memories, stuck years ago?"
"Yeah. Dad still thinks Gran's thirty."
"What does she think?"
"At first she wanted full recovery. After two months at home, she decided this is okay; normal wizard life is enough."
"Good to hear."
---
"Harry, now do you believe me? Trelawney's a total fraud."
"That's not what Professor Lewent said…"
Harry scratched his head, sighing. "He did debunk the trick, but he still respects her. Said she made a prophecy that changed the world."
"Just being polite to a colleague."
Walking to Defense Against the Dark Arts, Hermione fumed. Harry and Ron kept glancing around, scared she'd be overheard.
She huffed, checked her watch under her sleeve. "What's next?"
"Lupin's Defense class."
Harry's tone was weird. "Lewent said Lupin was my dad's close friend. Hermione, Ron; you think that's legit? I mean, he went to Ilvermorny. How would he know old Hogwarts stuff?"
"Flitwick probably told him in passing," Ron shrugged.
"What do you think, Hermione; Hermione?"
Passing the one-eyed witch statue on the third floor, Harry turned to ask the smart one; and realized she was gone.
"Where'd Hermione go?"
They spun around. Then; Hermione popped out from behind the statue, hurrying, hugging a massive book like a dictionary: Phonetic Spell Table.
Ancient runes textbook?
Did she pull that from her bag?
Harry didn't recognize the weird symbols on the spine, but George and Fred used similar ones on prank blueprints.
Hermione stuffed the book away, deep in thought, then remembered: "Harry, you said Lupin was your dad's friend?"
"Yeah, Lewent told me." Harry opened his mouth, feeling off.
Past the statue, around the corner; Defense classroom ahead. No Lupin.
They sat, got out books, quills, parchment. Right as the bell rang, Lupin slipped in, dropped his beat-up suitcase on the desk.
Same patched robes from the train, but he looked less pale, smile warm:
"Put your books away. Practical lesson today. Staff room, first floor. Just bring your wands."
The class buzzed, curious. They filed down empty halls and stairs, turned a corner; and someone was already waiting in the staff room.
"Professor Lewent?"