Harry returns from Hogwarts Legacy

Chapter 453 Vivi's Gift

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

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

It wasn't that he wanted to take credit for it; it was mainly because... the Death Eaters' lair, the basement of Lestrange Manor, was just too horrible. There were rubbings of human figures everywhere, as well as all sorts of strange corpses. Sirius was worried that if ordinary wizards saw it, they might have some unpleasant associations with Harry.

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

But this thing...

Actually, Harry didn't really care.

"You weren't even mentioned?" Ron asked, looking at the newspaper.

“Oh, that’s fine.” Harry smiled at Ron. “It’s nothing, you know I don’t care about that kind of fame.”

“I think it was Sirius protecting you,” Draco said, leaning closer. “After all… well, I don’t think anything good happened in that cellar you went to, and he was probably afraid that if it were all reported, it would affect your image among the wizards.”

"You seem to know quite a bit about 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 Black is indeed his uncle.

“However,” Hermione added, “I’m curious what happened in there that would make Sirius do that… Did you use some kind of inappropriate spell, Harry?”

Finally, Hermione suddenly leaned back strategically and whispered, "It's not some kind of harmless little curse, is it?!"

“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.

“Whatever, who cares about the spell?” she said. “Any spell that can defeat the Death Eaters is a good spell.”

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

Then he asked Harry, "Did you use the Divine Edge?"

“Oh, no,” Harry shrugged. “You know, I’m not very good at that spell, it’s not in my spellcasting sequence.”

That's true, after all, Harry has more convenient spells, such as some ancient magic—

Of course, it's not 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 can go to the Forbidden Forest for our trials… I’m worried you’ll be a little rusty if you haven’t dueled in 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 wanted 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 move 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 have something to discuss with him…”

“I’m going to see him,” Harry said. “I arranged to go with him.”

“Oh, alright then,” Professor Trelawney said with a smile.

“But…” Harry asked tentatively, “Is it alright for you to go see Dumbledore like this?”

“No problem,” Professor Trelawney said. “I don’t have classes this afternoon, and 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 a prophetic talent… but you were an ideal candidate…”

Harry didn't answer. Even though he wasn't too afraid of the prophecies, he still didn't want to be the subject of Professor Trelawney's repeated predictions of bad luck—it was unlucky, after all!
“I’m worried,” she continued, “that old horse—excuse me, the centaur—knows nothing about tarot. I asked him—in a conversation between prophets—didn’t he sense the impending 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 smelled a very strong sherry aroma.

"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 with me, of course, deeply impressed… I was staying at the Hog’s Head, a place I wouldn’t recommend to anyone else—it has bedbugs, my dear child—but money was tight. Dumbledore was 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 divination… I remember starting to feel a little strange, I didn’t eat much that day… but then…”

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 abruptly interrupted by Severus Snape!" Professor Trelawney said, clearly 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 the door, and then the door was kicked open. There was that very rude bartender and Snape standing outside. Snape made up some nonsense about going up the wrong stairs, but I suspected he had been caught eavesdropping on Dumbledore's interview with me—you see, he was looking for a job himself and was undoubtedly looking for some experience."

Professor Trelawney yawned at this point. “Well, after that, as you know, Dumbledore seemed quite willing to give me a job, Harry, and 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 glanced back instinctively—just in case he saw Snape eavesdropping behind him.

“Really?” Professor Trelawney seemed a little dazed. “Ron… well, I remember this boy. He has some talent in divination, 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 lot to say when Ferenczec was mentioned.

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

This resulted in Professor Trelawney having few suitable candidates, which is also why she 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 forward, turning into the corridor leading to Dumbledore's office, where the lone stone monster stood guard.

Harry gave the command to the monster and 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 the Phoenix turned around and glanced at the golden sunset reflected in its bright black eyes.

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

“Sybil, Harry.” He turned and said with a smile, “Have a seat. What would you like? Lemonade, or candy?”

“I’m asking for less sugar,” Harry said. “And I’ll also get Professor Trelawney a glass of chilled lemonade; 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 a prophet,” Dumbledore said with a smile. “Being drunk is her norm; she’s actually less likely to make any prophecies when she’s sober.”

Don't say it, really don'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 the same as 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 Sybil.”

Harry then handed the newspaper to Trelawney.

He was still wondering to himself, "Why didn't you tell Professor Trelawney sooner?"

Professor Trelawney, drunk, opened the newspaper and stared at it for a long time in a daze.

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 Sybil seemed to have made a prophecy?” Dumbledore asked.

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, and someone will uncover the long-buried truth, someone will fall with a smile, and the shadow... ah! that swirling shadow... will choose its new vessel at the feast of harvest..."

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

But when Harry got to the line "the thread of fate," he was already in the zone and found it boring to just repeat it dryly, so he started imitating 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 gave the 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 Vivi losing her magic, but how could she bring about a harbinger of tearing apart?”

Dumbledore thought for a moment and 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 Vivi 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 they be? Could they be the Ancient Flame?”

“It’s not entirely impossible,” Dumbledore said with a smile and a nod. “Of course, this is just speculation.”

"correct."

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

“She asked me to bring this to you,” Dumbledore said. “This bottle contains some phoenix tears, which Fiona collected over this period of time.”

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

“Otherwise?” Dumbledore asked with a smile. “This is her support for your holding of the trials—you know, phoenix tears can heal wounds and dispel toxins, and if anyone gets injured during the trials, it’s the best treatment.”

(End of this chapter)