A few days later, in a Divination, Morris was trying to identify the shapes of tea leaves in a teacup.
To be honest, this is more difficult than brewing Wolfsbane Potion.
He saw a clear image in the crystal ball during his first lesson and thought he had a talent for it.
Unfortunately, subsequent events proved that it was most likely an accident.
The school bell rang, Trelawney suddenly called out to him, " Mr. Black, could you stay behind for a moment?"
The students left the classroom one after another. Morris remained seated, watching Professor Trelawney float up to him.
"Is there something you need, Professor Trelawney?"
"What did you see in your teacup?" Trelawney asked.
"Ordinary tea leaves," Morris replied.
Trelawney smiled, a smile that looked somewhat eerie under the light.
"Well, it seems you still need to learn more," she said. "I saw murder in it."
Morris raised an eyebrow. "Murder?"
"Ah, yes," Trelawney nodded, but didn't continue the conversation, "But I'm not going to talk about that today. Please wait a moment."
She turned and walked to the shelf next to her, took down the ancestral crystal ball, and placed it on the table in front of Morris.
The enormous crystal ball gleamed faintly in the dim light.
"Can you still see anything in there, Black?" Trelawney asked.
Morris lowered his head and stared at the enormous crystal ball.
There was nothing inside except his own reflection.
He changed his perspective.
There's still nothing there.
"I can't see anything," he answered truthfully.
Trelawney stared at him for a long time, then nodded. "I understand, sir."
"What do you understand, Professor?" Morris asked, puzzled.
Trelawney gave a mysterious look. "Yesterday—or the day before—I remembered something. This crystal ball that Cassandra Trelawney once used has a special function."
Special features?
Morris became interested. "What function?"
Trelawney adjusted her glasses and said, "If a Seer has ever observed you through Prophecy or other similar means, this crystal ball can help you see them in reverse."
"In other words," Trelawney's voice deepened, "That old man you saw was very likely a powerful Seer."
She pointed to herself, "Same as me."
Morris was somewhat surprised.
From this perspective, he indeed lacks the talent for Prophecy.
disappointment..
But then again, who exactly is that old man?
If Trelawney wasn't deceiving him, why would that person observe him through Prophecy?
Many questions remain.
Seeing Morris lost in thought, Trelawney smiled slightly. "That's all I can say, because my subconscious won't let me reveal any more to you. Goodbye, Black."
"Thank you, Professor."
Morris got up and left the classroom.
Back in his dorm, Morris sat down and took out the portrait again.
Looking into the old man's sharp eyes in the painting, he suddenly had a flash of inspiration.
etc!
Could it be...?
Morris jumped to his feet, opened the briefcase at his feet, and crawled inside.
He hurriedly began rummaging through a pile of odds and ends.
The commotion even startled the listless Dementor lurking in the corner.
Five minutes later.
"Found it."
Morris now held a crumpled photograph in his hand.
The photo shows a young Grindelwald, the legendary first Dark Lord.
He kept comparing the photograph and the portrait.
Hmm, doesn't seem like it.
It looks somewhat similar.
In terms of appearance, the two are completely unrelated.
But Morris always had a feeling that the old man was Grindelwald himself.
If he wants to confirm this, he needs to ask someone more authoritative.
The next day was the day of the Quidditch Match.
On the field, dark clouds gathered, a strong wind blew, and lightning flashed and thunder roared.
"What a beautiful day!"
Morris sat in the stands, reflecting on the experience.
The fact that they're still holding matches in this weather suggests the person who scheduled the events has a serious problem with their head.
However, Quidditch is indeed popular, and even in bad weather, almost all the teachers and students still showed up.
Even Dumbledore was there.
Upon spotting the other person, Morris immediately stood up, walked through the crowded stands, and headed straight for the faculty and staff section.
Dumbledore was focused on the game, seemingly unaffected by the downpour.
His eyes were probably only on Harry Potter on the basketball court.
Morris sat down very naturally next to him, with Professor McGonagall on the other side.
Professor McGonagall glanced at him, her eyes filled with doubt, but she said nothing and turned back to stare at the arena.
For her, the competitions at her own academy were clearly more important.
Morris nudged Dumbledore's arm and said, "Professor, do you have a moment? I have something important to ask you."
Dumbledore turned his head, a gentle smile in his eyes.
"Now?" he asked jokingly, "At the most tense moment of Quidditch Match?"
Just then, the referee blew the whistle to signal halftime.
"Oh, please speak, Morris," said Dumbledore. "I hope we can resolve the important matters during our rest time."
Morris nodded and got straight to the point, "Professor, do you know what Grindelwald looks like now?"
Upon hearing the name, Dumbledore. "Why are you asking about this?"
Morris didn't beat around the bush any longer and handed the portrait directly to Dumbledore.
"Take a look at this," he said. "Could this person possibly be Grindelwald?"
Dumbledore accepted it.
The portrait was mostly soaked by the rain, but he still recognized it at a glance.
"Perhaps." He turned to look at Morris, his expression turning serious. "Where did you get this painting?"
really.
Morris nodded to himself.
His intuition was quite accurate.
"I drew it myself. I saw this image in Trelawney's heirloom crystal ball during a previous Divination."
Morris recounted the entire situation without concealing anything, including the special abilities of the crystal ball.
Dumbledore's expression slowly changed from serious to solemn, and he didn't even notice that the second half of the Quidditch Match had started.
"This is a big problem, Morris."
His voice was low and almost drowned out by the rain, but Morris heard it clearly.
"What's the problem?" Morris pressed.
However, before Dumbledore answer, the sky suddenly darkened, as if the light had been sucked away by something.
At the same time, a chill suddenly descended upon us for no apparent reason.
Morris was all too familiar with this feeling.
It's the aura of Dementor!
Sure enough, when he looked up, he saw dozens of black shadows floating above the field.
The Dementor appeared in hordes, more than ever before.