Veratia's Gift

The Daily Prophet's content was also rather uninformative, consisting entirely of information about the Death Eater' lair.

Of course, as Harry's Godfather, Sirius still concealed Harry's deeds.

It wasn't that he wanted to take credit for it; the main problem was that the Death Eater' lair, the basement of the Lestrange Manor, was in such a terrible state. There were rubbings of human figures everywhere, as well as all sorts of bizarre corpses. Sirius was worried that if ordinary wizards saw it, they might have some unpleasant associations with Harry.

Sirius thought to himself, "My godson is a harmless little wizard who's still a minor. I absolutely can't let him get the reputation of a serial killer!"

But this thing----

Actually, Harry didn't really care.

"Why wasn't it reported on you?" Ron asked, looking at the newspaper.

"Oh, that's fine." Harry smiled at Ron. "It's nothing serious, you know I don't care about that kind of fame."

"I think it was Sirius protecting you," Draco said, leaning closer. "After all—"

"Hmm, I think nothing good happened in that cellar you went to. He's probably afraid that reporting it all would damage your image among the wizards."

"You seem to know quite Sirius?" Hermione asked, turning her head.

"Of course!" Draco said proudly, hands on his hips. "That's my uncle! My own uncle!"

Ron glanced at Draco but didn't say a word.

That's absolutely right, Sirius is indeed his uncle.

"However," Hermione added, "I'm curious what happened in there that made Sirius do that— Harry, did you use some kind of inappropriate Charms?"

Finally, Hermione suddenly leaned back strategically and asked in a low voice, "It's not some kind of Harmless Minor Curses..."

Bar?!"

"Oh, you're the smartest witch I've ever met!" Harry gave him a thumbs up. "You guessed absolutely right!"

Hermione gasped, then exhaled dejectedly.

"Never mind what kind of Charms it is," she said. "As long as it can defeat the Death Eater, it's a good Charms."

"Wow, I didn't expect you to be so open-minded?" Ron was somewhat surprised.

Then he asked Harry, "Did you use Sectumsempra?"

"Oh, no," Harry shrugged. "You know, I'm not very good at that Charms, it's not in my spellcasting sequence."

That's true, after all, Harry has more convenient Charms, such as some Ancient Magic. Of course, not the the three Unforgivable Curses. If you're wrong, go stand in the corner in Azkaban!

"Let's continue tonight," Harry said again. "We need to practice first before we go to the Forbidden Forest for our trials—I'm worried you might be a bit rusty from not dueling for so long."

"Of course," Draco said. "I don't have anything planned for tonight anyway, so let's go to the Forbidden Forest together."

After asking around, it turned out that no one had anything planned for the evening.

After the time was agreed upon, Harry was informed that Dumbledore to see him about something.

As he reached the third floor, he bumped into Professor Trelawney, who was standing there with a bottle of wine at her feet.

Drinking in broad daylight, my dear Professor Trelawney?

Harry was about to step aside when he heard Professor Trelawney calling him.

"Harry? My dear?"

Harry could no longer pretend he didn't see her, so he turned around and gave Professor Trelawney a polite smile.

"Professor," he said, bowing slightly.

"Hiccup----" Professor Trelawney let out a drunken hiccup.

"What is this—" Harry asked tentatively.

"I'm going to see Dumbledore," Professor Trelawney said, slightly drunk. "I need to speak with him about something—"

"I'm on my way to see him," Harry said. "I arranged to meet him, and we can go together."

"Oh, alright then," Professor Trelawney said with a smile.

"But—" Harry asked tentatively, "Will it be alright for you to go see Dumbledore like this?"

"No problem," Professor Trelawney said. "I don't have classes this afternoon, Dumbledore won't say anything."

.

She bent down, picked up her sherry bottle, and casually tossed it into a large blue and white vase in the niche next to her.

"I really miss the time you spent in class, Harry," she said affectionately as they walked together toward Dumbledore's office. "You never had much of Oracle talent—but you were an ideal candidate—"

Harry didn't answer. Even though he wasn't particularly afraid of the Prophecy, he still didn't want to be the subject of Professor Trelawney's repeated predictions of bad luck—it was just bad luck!

"I'm worried," she continued, "That old horse—excuse me, the Centaurs knows absolutely nothing about Divination. I asked him—in a conversation between Oracle —didn't he sense the faint tremors before the disaster? But he seemed to find me ridiculous. Yes, ridiculous!"

Her voice rose hysterically, and even though the bottle was far behind him, Harry suddenly caught a very strong smell of sherry.

"That horse probably heard rumors that I didn't inherit my great-grandmother's talents. These rumors have been circulating for years by jealous people. Harry, do you know what I said to these people? If I hadn't proven myself to Dumbledore, would he have trusted me so much all these years to teach at this excellent school?"

Harry muttered something.

"I remember Dumbledore's first interview with me very clearly," Professor Trelawney continued in a hoarse voice. "He was deeply impressed by me, of course, deeply impressed—I was staying at the Hog's Head Inn, a place I wouldn't recommend to anyone—it had bedbugs, dear child, but funds were tight at the time. Dumbledore very kind and came to visit me at the inn himself. He asked me—I must admit, at first I felt he didn't seem to like me much—I remember starting to feel a little strange, I hadn't eaten much that day—"

But later----"

Now Harry was starting to really listen, because he knew what had happened: Professor Trelawney had made the Prophecy that would change his life forever, the Prophecy about him and Voldemort.

"----But then we were rudely interrupted by Severus Snape!" Professor Trelawney said, quite displeased.

"Oh." Harry nodded. He already knew about this—of course, he couldn't say anything, since his father, James, had already forgiven Professor Snape.

It was clear that Professor Trelawney didn't like Professor Snape very much; her face contorted slightly when she brought it up.

"Well, there was a commotion outside, and then the door was kicked open. That very rude bartender and Snape were standing outside. Snape made up an excuse that he'd gone up the wrong stairs, but I suspect he'd been caught eavesdropping on Dumbledore's interview with me—you see, he was looking for a job himself and undoubtedly wanted to gain some experience."

At this point, Professor Trelawney yawned.

"Well, after that, as you know, Dumbledore seemed quite willing to give me a job, Harry. I can't help but think it was because he appreciated my unpretentious style and natural ease, a stark contrast to that self-important, aggressive young man who hid in the keyhole to eavesdrop—"

"I think you and Ron will definitely have a lot in common," Harry said, scratching the back of his head. As he mentioned Ron, he subconsciously glanced back—just in case he saw Snape eavesdropping behind him.

"Really?" Professor Trelawney seemed a little dazed. "Ron —well, I remember that boy. He's quite gifted in academics, but unfortunately, he didn't choose my course—of course, I'm glad he didn't choose the horse course either!"

Professor Trelawney always had a strong opinion about Firenze.

It wasn't for any other reason than that Firenze was handsome, and the girls preferred his courses over the eccentric Professor Trelawney, who occasionally sent out death notices.

This resulted in Professor Trelawney having few suitable candidates, which was also the reason why Professor Trelawney often drowned her sorrows in alcohol.

On one hand, it's because I'm upset, and on the other hand, it's because I'm bored. If I drink too much, I can just go to sleep; it's okay.

The two continued walking, turning into the corridor leading to Dumbledore's office, where the lone stone monster stood guard.

Harry shouted the command at the monster, then slowly walked up the moving spiral staircase.

He gently knocked on Dumbledore's door.

"Come in," a soft voice said.

Harry and Professor Trelawney walked in one after the other. Fawkes turned and glanced at us; its bright black eyes reflected the golden sunset outside the window, Winky in the sunlight.

Dumbledore was standing by the window looking out over the campus, a smile on his face.

"Sybill, Harry." He turned and smiled. "Have a seat. What would you like? Lemonade, or candy?"

"I want it with less sugar," Harry said. "And please get Professor Trelawney a glass of iced lemonade too; she seems to have had a bit too much—"

"Oh, yes." Dumbledore nodded, "But it doesn't matter whether she's sober or not."

"Why?" Harry asked curiously.

"She's Seer," Dumbledore said with a smile. "Being drunk is her norm; it's actually harder for her to make any Prophecy when she's sober."

You know what, you really shouldn't say it.

Harry actually thought there was some truth to that statement.

"So, is there anything I can help you with?" Harry asked.

"Oh." Dumbledore produced a copy of the Daily Prophet from somewhere and handed it to Harry. Harry took it and saw that the contents were exactly what he had read that morning.

"What's wrong?" he asked, handing the newspaper back.

"I'm not showing this to you," Dumbledore said expressionlessly. "It's for Sybill."

Harry then handed the newspaper to Trelawney.

I was still wondering to myself, "Why didn't you tell me sooner that you wanted to give it to Professor Trelawney?"

Professor Trelawney, slightly drunk, opened the newspaper and stared at it for a long time, her mind hazy.

Harry sighed and helped her turn the newspaper around.

She held it upside down.

"Thank you," Professor Trelawney said. "I was just wondering why I couldn't understand that newspaper—"

"I remember you saying that Sybill seemed to have made a Prophecy?" Dumbledore inquired.

Harry nodded and said, "I see a crucial choice to be made on the night the full moon is swallowed by clouds, a silver-haired traveler will bring a harbinger of destruction, and the silent mirror will reflect twin flames—"

At this point, Harry recalled the details and continued, "Remember my words: when the sound of a twig breaking three times is heard, the threads of fate will intertwine, some will uncover long-buried truths, some will fall with smiles, and the shadow—ah! that swirling shadow—will choose its new vessel in the bountiful harvest—"

At first, he was just repeating Professor Trelawney's Prophecy.

But when Harry got to the part about "the thread of fate," he found it boring to just repeat it dryly, so he started mimicking Professor Trelawney's gestures and tone.

Professor Dumbledore had a strange expression, but he didn't say anything.

After Harry finished speaking, Dumbledore finally spoke.

"So, what do you think this Prophecy represents?" he asked.

"You're asking me?" Harry pointed to himself. "Why don't you ask the person who uttered this Prophecy?"

"I'm just asking for your opinion," Dumbledore said gently.

"I have no objection." Harry shrugged. "The only thing I can think of is silver hair representing Veratia losing her magic, but how could she bring about a premonition of tearing apart?"

Dumbledore, then shook his head.

"I don't think it's her," he said. "Silver hair isn't unique to her, and as for the traveler—how could she be a traveler?"

"Who could it be?" Harry scratched his head and said, "I only know Veratia the silver-haired one, and in the Prophecy, the only one capable of bringing about a tearing omen can be her—as for the twin flames, what could that be? Could it be the Gubraithian Fire?"

"It's not entirely impossible," Dumbledore a smile and a nod. "Of course, this is just speculation."

"Oh, right."

He then reached into a drawer beside him and took out a crystal bottle.

"This is what she asked me to bring you," Dumbledore said. "This bottle contains some Phoenix Tears, collected by Fiona during this time."

"So you called me here because of this?" Harry asked, taking the bottle.

"Otherwise?" Dumbledore smile. "This is her support for your holding of the trials—you know, Phoenix Tears can heal wounds and dispel toxins; if anyone gets injured during the trials, this is the best treatment."