"If explained this way, it does seem quite reasonable," Hermione hesitantly said, turning the teacup in her hands. "I think it's something wedge-shaped, like a triangle... It seems you're caught in a three-way relationship, or maybe someone is interfering with your relationship with another?"
"Three-way relationship?"
Upon hearing this, Professor Trelawney arrived as if she had sensed something.
She took the teacup from Hermione's hand, turning it as she said, "Let me see... let me see... how can this be a triangle? I think it's a jackal... oh no, this is ominous!"
Professor Trelawney let out a scream and collapsed into the chair beside her.
Startled by Professor Trelawney's reaction, Neville's hand slipped, and the cup in his hand fell to the ground, shattering with a thud.
"Professor, what happened?" Hermione asked with a concerned frown.
"My dear child—my poor, dear child..."
Professor Trelawney gasped for breath, looking fearfully at Harry: "No, it's better not to say it... Oh my, no—don't ask me..."
"What is it, Professor?" Harry, feeling unconcerned, asked instead, worried about what had happened to Professor Trelawney.
"My dear," Professor Trelawney's large eyes widened, "you have an omen!"
"I have an omen?" Harry asked, frowning.
"Yes, 'an omen,' my dear, 'an omen'!" Professor Trelawney shouted loudly.
She was shocked that Harry didn't understand and even questioned her.
"The specter-like large dog roaming in the cemetery! My dear child, this is an ill omen—the worst omen—a death omen!"
Professor Trelawney waved her hands dramatically.
"And the jackal—oh my, it's the jackal... my dear, if I were you, I would..."
"I think she's talking nonsense," Hermione suddenly felt a hint of understanding for Cassandra, tugging Harry's arm. "Forget it, I think it looks nothing like a dog or jackal, just a cup of tea leaves."
"Maybe Professor Trelawney got it wrong, and the tea leaves actually look like a donkey?" Seamus chimed in from the side.
Whether donkey, wolf, or dog, Professor Trelawney looked as if she was about to suffocate.
Her lips moved, and after a while, she finally managed to utter a sentence.
"Let's finish class here today—" she stuttered, "it's better if we end early, please pack up your things, and be careful when you leave—especially you, my dear."
The last sentence was directed at Harry.
The next class after Divination was Professor McGonagall's Transformation Class.
As they walked into the class, students were still enthusiastically discussing Harry's "omen."
They didn't find it frightening at all, especially since Harry himself was taking it all lightly, not taking the "omen" seriously at all.
"Looks like you all learned quite a bit in the previous class."
Upon entering the classroom, Professor McGonagall heard the buzzing of the students' whispered conversations and smiled at them: "What did you learn in the last class?"
Hermione stood up and quickly said, "Professor, we just had Divination class, we were interpreting tea leaves, and—"
"Ah, of course," Professor McGonagall interrupted Hermione with a frown, "Alright, I think there's no need for you to continue, Miss Granger—tell me, who among you will die this year?"
Professor McGonagall's tone was extremely light, as if talking about a most ordinary topic.
"Me," Harry raised his hand and said succinctly.
He seemed even calmer than Professor McGonagall.
"Oh, it's you again," Professor McGonagall said flatly, "I'm not one to speak ill of colleagues, but perhaps that's Professor Trelawney's hobby; she always treats death as a welcoming ceremony in her predictions—but I need you to understand, Divination is a rather confusing subject, and I have the least patience for it because truly seeing the future is rare."
"Professor, I think so too," Hermione burst out laughing.
Professor McGonagall gave Hermione an approving glance, feeling quite gratified that Hermione supported her view.
By lunchtime, the news of Professor Trelawney's prophecy about Harry's death had spread throughout Hogwarts, and both students and teachers were treating it as a joke.
Oh well, Harry's death...
He is the Boy Who Lived, the one even Voldemort couldn't kill!
However, Cassandra didn't seem to think so, occasionally glancing at Harry as she ate lunch, lowering her head to continue cutting her food with a knife and fork whenever Harry looked up.
Draco truly noticed his dear grandmother's small actions, lowering his head and not daring to speak, only sighing inwardly.
Alas...
Dear grandmother!
Could you be a bit braver!
If you care about him, just say it! Look at you, no wonder Miss Grindelwald seized the opportunity before you!
Now he truly understood what it meant to be frustrated by iron not turning into steel, and trying to raise a hopeless case.
If you can win Harry's heart with your current attitude, it'd truly be a miracle.
In the afternoon, there was the Magical Creatures Protection Class, temporarily taught by Hagrid.
Newt had taken a temporary leave because he was invited to the United States during the summer to investigate a magical creatures incident and would be back in a few days.
Hagrid's teaching followed Professor Scamander's set curriculum, strictly by the book.