Trelawney: I'm a Professional

The Fantasy Book: Virtual Duel Chamber.

The scene is a default abandoned classroom, with a spacious open space enclosed by thick, dark stone walls, and old desks and chairs piled up against the walls.

Two figures dressed in tattered black cloaks floated in mid-air. Their exposed hands were thin and bony, and their pale skin was stained with damp watermarks. The rotting lividity could be vaguely seen extending into the darkness concealed by the cloaks.

The Dementor made a panting sound, and an invisible chill emanated from its body, icy and bone-chilling.

Flamel carefully examined the two Dementor, constantly analyzing their Magic Power abilities. "Compared to the real Dementor, the Boggart -mimicked Dementor are weaker... However, it has indeed broken through the Magic Power barrier, truly simulating the unique Magic Power of Dementor. This is truly... unbelievable."

"That's why I'm interested in the Boggart," Loren said thoughtfully, gazing at the Dementor that the Boggart had transformed into. "I wonder if it can mimic the Magic Power of other Fantastic Beasts."

One of the Dementor ' images vanished, while the remaining one kept changing shape in mid-air.

Acromantula, Basilisk, Mandrake, Sphinx...

With a wave of his hand, Loren dispersed the images in mid-air and shook his head in disappointment. "No, I went through all the Fantastic Beasts in my mind in the Staff Room that day, and only the Dementor showed any Magic Power reaction."

His brows furrowed slightly, filled with puzzled confusion. "Why? Why is it only Dementor that show Magic Power reaction..."

"Perhaps it's because of—emotions." Flamel raised an eyebrow and floated in front of him. "Whether it's Boggart or Dementor, their existence is closely related to fear. There might be some connection between them."

"Emotions...fear..." Loren muttered to himself, extending his right fist.

When you open your palm, a dark, smooth stone lies there.

This is the second Soul Stone he obtained. He had refined the first one into the Mirror of Bloody Mary, which gave his illusions many wonderful uses.

The stones contain the malevolent Magic Power unique to Dementor, capable of absorbing emotions and memories to grow their power. Like a seed, it will grow into Dementor after being watered and fertilized.

Can Dementor grow?

Thinking of this, Loren had a sudden inspiration and quickly asked, "Boggart have no biological characteristics; there are no records of them eating, reproducing, or dying. What about Dementor? Do Dementor have biological characteristics?"

Flamel paused for a few seconds, then slowly began to speak, "Dementor can indeed reproduce on their own. In an environment rich with sufficient emotions and memories, their numbers will increase significantly..."

Azkaban is a small island in the North Sea. A dark wizard Ekrizdis built a fortress on the island and lured Muggle sailors ashore to conduct secret research on Dark Arts, eventually torturing them to death.

After Ekrizdis's mysterious death, the concealment spells he used on the fortress and the island failed, and the Ministry of Magic discovered the island and the Dementor on it.

In 1718, Damocles Rowle became Minister for Magic and spearheaded the construction of the wizarding prison Azkaban. Nicolas Flamel was also invited to participate in the prison's design, although his aversion to Dementor led him to quickly flee.

The number of Dementor in Azkaban has been recorded. When the prison is full, the Dementor population reproduces rapidly in an S-shaped growth curve.

The last time the Dementor population increased was after the First Wizarding War, when Azkaban's cells were crammed with Death Eater and Dark Wizards.

Loren nodded, then asked thoughtfully, "If the Boggart that transforms into a Dementor truly possesses Dementor Magic Power, will it develop biological characteristics? I mean, if the Boggart in its Dementor form absorbs emotions and memories, will it use them for its own growth and reproduction?"

Will it become more powerful, or will it reproduce? If it reproduces, will the next generation be Dementor or Boggart?

"This..." Flamel was in mid-air, suddenly froze, a strange expression on his face. "To be honest, even in Nicol's six hundred years of memories, this idea is one of the top three in terms of novelty. It's just that the Fantasy Book cannot simulate this situation, so I can't give you an answer."

"Oh, I see. Looks like we should try getting a real Boggart..."

Monday morning, in the Great Hall.

At the Gryffindor table, Hermione was happily examining her timetable, even though she could already recite it from memory.

"Oh, that's great! I can't wait to start some new classes," she said happily.

As Harry grabbed the milk, he glanced at her class schedule. It was packed full, making his scalp tingle. He blinked hard, somewhat incredulous. "Hermione, why are your classes such a mess? Look, they're making you take almost ten classes a day. Where do you find the time?"

Hermione snorted twice, unconcerned. "I'll figure something out. I've already discussed it with Professor McGonagall."

"But look here, you have Divination Class, Muggle Studies, and Ancient Rune at nine o'clock." Harry seemed unable to believe his eyes and wanted to persuade her further, "I know you're very talented, Hermione, but how can you possibly be in three classrooms at the same time?"

"Don't talk nonsense, of course I wouldn't be in three classrooms at the same time."

Hermione secretly blamed herself for being smug; now she had exposed her weakness.

"But--"

Hermione crumpled the timetable into a ball and stuffed it into her pocket, then called out to Loren in a flustered manner, "Give me the marmalade."

"I think Harry is right!" Loren solemnly supported Harry, slowly and deliberately handing her the marmalade, determined not to let Hermione let the matter drop so easily.

He raised an eyebrow at the little Witch, his eyes conveying the message: Serves you right for being so cocky!

Hermione glared back, snatched the marmalade from his plate, and grabbed the bread from his plate, saying fiercely, "I already told you, I've discussed it with Professor McGonagall. Even if my schedule is a bit full, what's it to you?"

"I'm going to take charge!"

"None of your business!"

"I insist on..."

Harry looked away and took a sip of milk with a blank expression.

Burp~

I'm a little full.

After having breakfast and resting for a while, everyone left the Great Hall to go to class.

As soon as he stepped out of the Great Hall, Loren glanced around the corner of the corridor, then turned his gaze to Hermione with a strange expression.

"What's wrong? Let's go!" Hermione turned around and looked at him with some confusion.

"I suddenly need to go to the toilet."

Hermione waved her hand dismissively. "Go, go, go!"

A few minutes later, Loren returned with a strange expression. He looked at Hermione, thought for a moment, and then said, "I left my notebook in the Great Hall."

"..."

Hermione turned to look at him, her face full of suspicion. "Don't you usually keep your notebook in your charm?"

"It's the beginning of the semester, and I haven't adjusted to school life yet, so I'm forgetful."

"Oh dear, hurry up and go!"

A few minutes later, Loren returned, his brows slightly furrowed, looking somewhat distracted.

Hermione immediately noticed something was wrong with him. She sniffed him closely, her little nose twitching as she asked, "Did you eat snacks? You smell like chocolate."

Loren gently tapped her nose and shook his head with a smile, "Stop smelling it, it's like a puppy."

Hermione muttered under her breath, "There was definitely some... eating chocolate right after breakfast..."

"Let's hurry, we're going to be late for the Divination Class!"

The first class in the morning is Divination Class. The class is held in the North Tower. You have to climb the seventh long straight staircase, and then go through several rapidly spiraling staircases to reach a small platform. A silver ladder hangs from the ceiling. Climbing up the ladder leads to the Divination Classroom.

Loren and Hermione stood together, curiously looking around the classroom.

Everything in the room was bathed in a hazy red light, the curtains were drawn tightly, and many lamps were covered with large, deep red scarves. In fact, it didn't look like a classroom at all, but rather a mixture of an attic and an old-fashioned teahouse, with at least twenty small round tables crammed inside, surrounded by printed fabric armchairs and bulging little cushions.

It was unbearably hot inside. Beneath the crammed fireplace mantel, a fire blazed fiercely, and a large copper teapot sat atop it, emitting a strong, nauseating aroma.

A row of shelves lined the circular wall, crammed with dirty quill pens, candle stubs, tattered playing cards, countless Winky crystal balls, and a huge pile of teacups.

"Divination Class..." The firelight made Hermione's cheeks glow red, and her eyes sparkled.

Prior to this, she had personally experienced Trelawney's Prophecy about Professor Babbling and was filled with anticipation for the class.

"Welcome--"

A voice suddenly rang out from the shadows in the corner, a soft, indistinct voice, "It's so good to finally see you in the material world."

The gaunt Trelawney emerged from the shadows and came into the firelight's glow, looking like a large, Winky insect.

A pair of large glasses magnified her eyes several times their original size, and she wore a thin, transparent shawl adorned with many shimmering metallic sequins. Countless beads and chains hung from her slender, long neck, and her arms and hands were also covered with bracelets and rings.

Hermione gently tugged at Loren's sleeve, her eyes shining. "The material world, she said the material world... Has she seen us in other worlds...?"

Loren smiled helplessly and said meaningfully, "Don't have too high hopes."

"Huh, what do you mean?" Hermione hadn't had time to ask in detail before he led her to sit down in an armchair at a table, still a little dazed.

Professor Trelawney began her lesson, sitting in an armchair in front of the fireplace. "Welcome to Divination Class. I am Professor Trelawney. You probably haven't seen me before, because the chaos and noise of campus life have blurred my Inner Eye..."

The young wizards, not yet realizing the true nature of Divination Class, were completely taken aback by Trelawney's words and sat quietly listening to her rambling.

Hermione even took out her notebook and meticulously wrote down her words, until—

"I must say this upfront: if you lack insight, there is nothing I can do. In this field, books can only teach you a little bit..." Trelawney gracefully adjusted her shawl.

Hermione was somewhat surprised, as were the other young wizards, who all became tense.

"...Seeing through the veil of mystery surrounding the future is a talent possessed by only a few." Trelawney then changed the subject, looking at Neville, "You, child, how is your grandmother?"

Neville was startled and almost fell off the cushion. He answered tremblingly, "I think it's alright."

"If I were you, I wouldn't be so sure, darling."

"Hiss—" Neville gasped, his expression turning uneasy. It seemed he wouldn't be able to concentrate on the lesson.

The young wizards who were on good terms with Neville all cast sympathetic glances at her, wondering what might have happened to Neville's grandmother.

Loren's eyes twitched a few times as he silently complained to himself.

Trelawney is wasting her talents as Divination Class professor; she should be a con artist. With her charlatan psychology tricks, she deserves a ten-year sentence from Azkaban.

"This year we will learn the basic methods of Divination. In the first semester, we will focus on interpreting tea leaves, and in the second semester..."

Trelawney began to explain the teaching plan, but the young wizards' minds were not on their studies at all; they listened with trepidation as the Divination Class professor occasionally uttered a frightening Prophecy.

"...Be wary of a red-haired man." Trelawney's large, Winky eyes suddenly turned to Parvati Patil.

Parvati glanced in alarm at Ron sitting behind her and quickly moved her chair further away.

"... Classes will be closed in February due to a severe flu outbreak, and around Easter, one of us will leave us forever."

Trelawney looked at Lavender Brown, who was cowering in his chair, and said, "Honey, could you hand me the biggest silver teacup?"

Lavender breathed a sigh of relief and got up to hand over the teacup.

"Thank you, darling." Trelawney smiled. "By the way, the thing you fear most will happen on Friday, October 16th."

Lavender curled up in the chair again, trembling with fear.

Trelawney's gaze swept over the young wizards. "Now, I ask you to pair up, sit down, and drink tea until only tea leaves remain. Swirl the tea leaves in your cup three times with your left hand, then invert the cup onto a tray. After the last drop of tea has seeped out, hand the cup to your partner to decipher..."

After explaining the Divination ritual, she called to Neville, who was about to get up to get a cup. "Darling, after you break the first teacup, could you please choose one with a blue pattern?"

Half a minute later, Neville did indeed break a teacup, just as she had predicted.

Trelawney grinned smugly, got up, grabbed a dustpan and broom, and strode over...

Seeing the slightly agape mouths of the young wizards around him in shock, Loren retracted his earlier comment.

Instead of a minimum ten-year sentence, it's the death penalty.