Professor Trelawney's Prophecy!

Draco didn't know was that while these words wouldn't hurt Ron, if a certain unnamed major shareholder of Honeydukes heard them, they would definitely cause him a mental breakdown.

No, what do you mean?

Discrimination, is it?

"So don't be afraid," Ginny continued. "What are you afraid of? Why don't you dare fight a spider?"

"Yeah," Draco chimed in, eager for a good show—not only for his own amusement, but also to agree with Ginny, "They're just some spiders, what's there to be afraid of?"

"Remember what you said today, Malfoy." Ron rolled his eyes. "Some 'spider'? Ha, I hope you'll still be as calm as you are now after you see 'some' spiders, my friend."

He initially intended to use the word "friend," but after thinking about it, he felt that Malfoy was not worthy of being his friend, and instead chose the term "classmate."

"And what about you?" Harry turned to Draco. "What are your thoughts on going to the Forbidden Forest for the trials?"

"Of course we're going!" Draco said, puffing out his chest. "It's just the Forbidden Forest, what's there to be afraid of?"

He felt like he was seeing a pretty girl's eye-catching bag and wanted to say something to stand out and get her attention.

But this kind of behavior often results in being ignored, which is probably the best outcome. Most of the time, the outcome is that the girl thinks the person is an "idiot."

Of course, Draco wouldn't go that far; at least Ginny wasn't that rude, she just chose to ignore him.

This hurt Draco a little.

"I think it'll be great," Ginny said with a smile. "Oh, Ron —cheer up! Draco's actually right, it's just some 'spider-like creatures,' I know you love spiders, don't you?"

Ron pursed his lips and muttered something unintelligible.

"Go ahead," Ginny whispered in Ron's ear, "If you dare go, I'll make Hermione kiss you—"

Ron's eyes lit up.

?

That's a good idea!

but----

He thought about it and still felt it was a bit too risky. He didn't want to risk his life for a kiss.

He knew all too well the reproductive capacity of spiders; they could lay hundreds of offspring at once. Over the years, who knew how many spiders there must have been in the Forbidden Forest?

Given the size of those spiders, Ron felt the nightmare was yet to come.

but----

On the other hand, he had no room to resist.

"Go ahead." Draco sat down in front of Ron. "Weasley, I know you're terrified of spiders, but this is a great opportunity, a chance to help you overcome your phobia—do you want to be afraid of spiders for the rest of your life?"

As he spoke, Draco looked at Harry.

"I've heard Harry say that when he lived with his aunt, he often hung out with spiders," he said.

"Oh, that's true," Harry said with a shrug. "After all, I used to live in a cubicle under the stairs at my aunt's house, and there were so many spiders in there that I could often pluck several off myself and throw them away when I got up."

Upon hearing this, Ron couldn't help but shudder.

"Just thinking about it is terrifying—oh well, it's just spiders, right? I'll come with you—but Harry, you have to promise me that if I faint from fright, you'll have to find a way to get me out of here!"

"Don't worry," Harry gave an OK sign, "I definitely won't let the spider bite you."

After receiving Harry's assurance, Ron finally mumbled his agreement.

"You can practice at the Room of Requirement tonight," Harry said. "Just like before a duel, warm up so you don't get lost when you get into the Forbidden Forest."

"Alright then," Ron reluctantly agreed.

Around 7 p. m., they slipped out of the Common Room.

Harry obtained a note from Professor McGonagall in the afternoon, allowing them to freely go to the Seventh Floor in the evening. After encountering Filch, Ron arrogantly slapped the note signed by Professor McGonagall onto his chest.

"Professor McGonagall has given us permission to go to the Seventh Floor!" he said, head held high.

Filch grinned, glanced at the note, and made way for him.

"Look at Filch's face," Ron said with a grin after they got to the Seventh Floor. "He looks like he really wants to deduct points from my score, but he can't—so frustrating, so annoying."

"Alright, stop arguing with a Squib," Harry said, patting Ron on the shoulder.

Just then, Harry heard a scream and a crash.

He stopped and listened intently.

How dare you!

The sound came from a nearby corridor. The group immediately gripped their wands and rushed over. After turning a corner, they saw Professor Trelawney lying on the floor, her head covered by one of her many shawls. Several sherry bottles lay scattered around, one of them broken.

"Professor—" Ginny rushed forward to help her; some of her sparkling beads were tangled up with her glasses.

Professor Trelawney let out a loud burp, patted her hair, and stood up with Ginny's help.

"What's wrong, Professor?" Ginny asked with concern.

"Good question!" she snapped. "I was just taking a walk alone, thinking about some Grim signs I happened to glimpse—"

Harry, standing nearby, wasn't paying much attention to what she was saying—he had just noticed where they were standing:

On the right is a tapestry depicting a dancing Troll, on the left is a smooth, hard stone wall, behind which lies—

"Professor, were you trying to enter the Room of Requirement just now?" he asked.

The students around her instantly leaned back, looking at Professor Trelawney with suspicion.

"----A sign from heaven--What did you say?"

Her gaze suddenly became somewhat Winky.

"The Room of Requirement," Harry repeated, "Do you want to go in?"

"I—um—I didn't know the students knew too—" Professor Trelawney said, shuddering.

"Not everyone knows," Harry said. "But what happened? You screamed—it sounded like you were hurt—"

"I—uh," said Professor Trelawney, cautiously pulling her shawl around herself and staring down at Harry with her eyes, which seemed magnified several times over, "I was hoping—ah—to store some—uh—"

Personal items are in the Room of Requirement.

She muttered something about "vicious accusations".

"Oh," Harry said, glancing at the sherry bottles on the floor, "But you couldn't get in and hide them?"

He found this strange, because a hundred years ago, when he was looking for a secret base, the Room of Requirement had opened its door for him.

"Oh, I can go in," Professor Trelawney said, staring at the wall, "But there's already someone inside."

"Someone's in there—? Who?" Harry asked very cautiously, "Who's in there?"

This is not the time when the members of the Dueling Club should be.

They agreed to meet on the Seventh Floor and wait until everyone arrived before going in, to avoid the awkward situation of someone not being able to get in.

So, who could it be?

"I don't know either," said Professor Trelawney, looking somewhat startled by Harry's very alert question. "I went inside and heard voices, unlike anything I've heard in all these years of hiding in and using this room."

"A voice? Saying something?" Harry asked next.

"I don't know if they're saying anything," Professor Trelawney said, "That's—a shout."

"Shouting?" Harry frowned.

"A cheerful shout," she nodded.

Harry stared at her.

"Is it a man or a woman?"

"I guess it's a man," Professor Trelawney said.

"Sounds a little happy?" Harry pressed again.

"I'm pleased," Professor Trelawney said dismissively.

Harry thought for a moment, then asked, "It seems like they're celebrating something?"

"Definitely," Professor Trelawney said with certainty.

"And then what—?" Harry pressed on.

Professor Trelawney tightened her cloak, sniffed, and said, "Then I called out, 'Who's there?'"

"Can't you find out who it is without asking?" Harry asked her, a little disappointed.

"The Heavenly Eye," Professor Trelawney said with an air of superiority, adjusting her shawl and the many strings of shimmering beads, "Is not for focusing on worldly matters like shouting."

This is more of a show-off, so I'd give her 82 points. The remaining 18 points will be given to her as 666.

"Yes," Harry nodded, having heard far too many of Professor Trelawney's Heavenly Eye, "Did the voice answer who it was?"

"No, no," Professor Trelawney mumbled, "Everything went black, and then I knew I was thrown out headfirst!"

"You didn't see how this happened?" Harry couldn't help but ask.

"I didn't see it, I just said it was pitch black—" Professor Trelawney paused, staring at him suspiciously, "You're thinking something rude, aren't you? But I warn you, Potter 'Heavenly Eye aren't for seeing such trivial things!"

At this point, Professor Trelawney suddenly felt completely lost.

Her voice trembled, ethereal yet sharp, as if it came from a distant place.

"I see—a crucial choice—will arrive on the night the full moon is swallowed by clouds—a silver-haired traveler will bring an omen of tearing apart, and the silent mirror will reflect twin flames—"

At this point, Professor Trelawney's frail body suddenly trembled violently, as if struck by something.

Remember my words: when the sound of a withered branch breaking is heard three times, the threads of fate will intertwine—some will uncover the long-buried truth, some will fall with a smile—and the shadow—ah! that swirling shadow—

At the bountiful harvest feast, it will choose its new container.

Ron and his friends exchanged glances.

What nonsense are you spouting?

But Harry doesn't think so.

It seems Professor Trelawney has entered a Prophecy state again.

A silver-haired traveler?

Harry's first thought was Veratia.

When her magic was depleted, didn't she have silver hair?

A harbinger of division, twin flames—what on earth are these?

Harry couldn't understand the parts in the middle.

But the following sentence—"The swirling shadow chooses its new vessel at the bountiful feast"—could it be referring to Voldemort?

Very likely!

Just then, Professor Trelawney loosened her grip, and the bottle crashed to the ground, spilling the liquor onto the floor and releasing a strong aroma of spiced liqueur.

"Ah, my wine." Professor Trelawney said with a touch of heartache, squatting down to look at the wine, muttering, "Getting old, getting old—I'm really losing my energy—my dear, did I just say something?"

The following question was directed at Ginny.

Ginny felt a little scared; the professor's erratic behavior—he seemed like a madman.

She shook her head repeatedly, indicating no.

"Oh, oh—" Professor Trelawney shook her head, somewhat incoherently saying, "Well, well—it's nothing serious anyway—never mind, I need to get back to my office."

"Leave this to us," Harry said to Professor Trelawney.

He used Charms to clean up the spilled wine on the ground, and after watching Professor Trelawney leave, Harry looked toward the entrance to the Room of Requirement.

"If I'm not mistaken, Professor Trelawney just said—there's someone here?"

"Probably," Ron said, frowning. "Celebrating inside? What are they celebrating? Does anyone else know the entrance to the Room of Requirement?"

"It's hard to say," Ginny said thoughtfully. "The fact that we know the entrance to the Room of Requirement means that others may have also inadvertently learned how to enter the room—"

"Harry, what do you think?" Neville turned and asked.

"Ginny is right, many people know about the Room of Requirement," Harry said, frowning. "Including Voldemort — Professor Trelawney just said it was a man, so we can rule out a boy first—because if that were the case, she wouldn't have used the word 'man,' but rather 'boy' to describe it—"

As he spoke, he looked toward the Room of Requirement.

"We still don't know who's inside—let's wait here a bit until the students from other colleges arrive. We can't go inside until those people come out."

"What if the person inside is Malfoy?" Ron suddenly asked.

Harry thought for a moment, then took his phone out of his pocket.

"I'll just call Draco and the others and find out," he said. "If it's them, just tell them to come out."

"What if it wasn't Malfoy and his crew?" Hermione suddenly asked a very serious question.