Days wandering around Hogwarts

Chapter 717 Charles's Good Friend

After the divination class ended, the students hurriedly left the classroom.

Harry felt as if he were walking on clouds, floating down the dizzying spiral staircase of the North Tower with his classmates, through the castle's cold corridors, and toward the dining hall.

Professor Trelawney's trembling voice, pale face, and her final, absent-minded state lingered in his mind, refusing to leave.

“She’s more frightening than ever before, Harry.” Ron’s voice was weak, and his face was even worse than in Divination class, his freckles standing out starkly against his bloodless skin. “Those words sounded…so specific, unlike her usual vague ‘ominous’ pronouncements.”

Harry nodded silently, wanting to say something but unable to utter a word.

He tried to tell himself that Trelawney was incompetent, that her job was just slacking off, and that she predicted someone would die every year while everyone else was still alive and well.

But this time was different. He couldn't forget her genuine panic, and the fleeting, undisguised glint of fear in her eyes.

This involuntarily reminded him of a few months ago, in the hall of the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry of Magic, filled with prophecy orbs. There, he had secretly taken an orb next to the label bearing his and Voldemort's names—the prophecy that had truly determined his fate: "The one capable of defeating the Dark Lord is approaching… Born into a family that has resisted him three times, born at the end of July… The Dark Lord will consider him his formidable enemy, but he will possess powers unknown to the Dark Lord… One of them must die at the hands of the other, for neither can live; only one can survive… The one capable of defeating the Dark Lord will be born at the end of July…"

Harry doesn't trust Trelawney, but he has complete faith in Charles, who also possesses prophetic abilities.

He couldn't help but think that if he talked to Charles about what had happened today, he might get a satisfactory answer.

At mealtime, the Great Hall was bustling with noise, and the long tables were piled high with food. The aroma of roast meat and the sweetness of cake filled the air, but Harry could not find any appetite in it.

He sat mechanically at the Gryffindor table, picking up and putting down his knife and fork, forcing himself to eat something.

Ron, terrified, told Hermione about what had happened in the Divination class.

“Ron,” Hermione said, her tone sounding as if she were patiently teaching him how to do his homework, her eyes gleaming with pure rationality, “you really don’t need to take what Professor Trelawney says too seriously.”

“Charles explained to us that divination is an extremely vague and imprecise magical discipline.”

"Whether it's tea leaves or a dream, those are just randomly appearing patterns. The interpretation depends entirely on the interpreter's subjective, and usually overactive, imagination!"

“But Hermione,” Ron argued, his voice weak, “she reacted particularly strongly this time! And, ‘betrayal’… what if…”

“There’s no ‘what if,’ Ron!” Hermione said firmly. “If divination were really that accurate, the Ministry of Magic would have used it to catch dark wizards long ago, instead of relying on the Aurors’ hard work and meticulous investigation!”

"Think about it, she predicted every year that a student would die, but everyone is still sitting here perfectly fine, isn't she?"

She looked at Harry with a sharp gaze and said, "Harry, don't let her influence you."

"Umbridge and Quidditch are bad enough already, don't add unnecessary psychological burden to yourself."

Harry knew Hermione was right; her logic was impeccable.

But emotionally, the cloud hanging over Trelawney, mixed with memories of past prophecies and uncertainty about the future, weighed heavily on his heart, making it difficult for him to let go.

Harry managed a weak smile and a nod to Hermione to indicate that he had heard, but his inner worry did not dissipate.

The next few days continued to pass slowly in a dull anxiety.

The sky outside the castle seemed to reflect Harry and Ron's mood, always overcast and occasionally drizzling.

Umbridge's figure appeared more frequently in the corridors, always wearing a large, wide-brimmed hat, like ubiquitous mold, eroding the castle's remaining vitality. Finally, Hogsmeade Week arrived amidst anticipation.

It was a chilly but windless morning. Harry and Ron wrapped themselves tightly in their thick robes and followed the bustling flow of students onto the path leading to Hogsmeade Village.

The village is already decorated with lights and decorations in preparation for next month's Christmas shopping season, and is filled with the lively atmosphere of the weekend.

The entrance to Joko's Joke Shop was packed with people, cheerful laughter emanated from the Three Brooms Bar, and mouthwatering candies were displayed in the window of Honey Duke.

But Harry and Ron didn't stop. Following Charles's instructions, they bypassed the bustling main road and turned into a narrow, quiet back alley next to Honeydukes.

Deep in the alley, far from the hustle and bustle of the village, stands a detached house that looks quite old.

The walls were mottled gray stone, and the windows were small, with dark curtains hanging from them.

The most striking feature was the heavy door with its ancient bird motif and bronze door knocker. Everything matched Charles's description.

Harry and Ron exchanged a glance, took a deep breath, and reached out to knock on the door knocker.

The dull knocking echoed in the quiet alley. In a distant house, someone seemed to peek in from behind the curtains before quickly leaving the window.

The door was opened almost immediately, as if someone had been waiting behind it all along.

The person who opened the door startled them both.

She was a young woman, breathtakingly beautiful.

She had long, flowing, silver hair that cascaded down her back, and skin so white it seemed to glow like pearls. Her large, bright, azure eyes had slightly upturned corners, giving her an otherworldly, ethereal charm.

She wore a well-tailored black Muggle business suit with a simple white silk blouse underneath, low-heeled leather shoes, and her long hair was styled in a bun. She looked capable and sophisticated, completely out of place with the traditional wizarding style of Hogsmeade Village, and more like an elite working in London's financial district.

“Harry Potter, Ron Weasley?” Her voice was as clear and melodious as a wind chime, and a perfectly timed smile played on her lips, making one overlook her slightly accented English. “Please come in, Charles is waiting for you.”

They felt a little dazed, and when they came to their senses, they found themselves following the beautiful lady into the house.

The living room was furnished comfortably and warmly, with a cozy fire burning in the fireplace that dispelled the chill from outside, and a faint, refreshing floral fragrance filling the air.

“My name is Nina,” she said, gesturing for them to sit on the soft sofa, while she herself sat gracefully and relaxed in the armchair opposite them. “I’m a good friend of Charles.”

Nina gave a sly smile and continued, "We should have met before."

Harry and Ron simply exclaimed "Huh?" and racked their brains to recall.

“Remember the Bulgarian team’s mascot from last year’s Quidditch World Cup?” Nina said with a smile. “I was one of them back then.”

“I heard from Charles that you guys were trying to climb out of the stands.”

Harry and Ron suddenly realized that it was a Veela. No wonder she was so beautiful, and this heart-pounding feeling was exactly the same as during the World Cup.

They tried to concentrate, but their eyes were always drawn to Nina, whose every smile and gesture seemed to have a magical power, making them forget many things.

(End of this chapter)