HP: Azkaban's Outstanding Graduate

The huge rock called "Black" that had been weighing on Harry's heart for so long seemed to have finally been completely removed, and he felt much more relaxed, even his breathing became much easier.

Chapter 221 Talking Back to the Teacher?

Hogwarts seems to have truly returned to its former tranquility.

The Dementors had left, and the oppressive atmosphere around the castle had vanished.

The students' conversation shifted from the terrifying shadow of Black to Lockhart's humiliating arrest and duel match.

Hermione Granger remains one of the busiest students.

Carrying a thick stack of books, she moved like a gust of wind through the corridors, rushing from one classroom to another, trying to seize every minute to study.

Her schedule was packed with classes, assignments, and library research, to the point that she even used a time converter.

However, the atmosphere was completely different in the divination classroom.

Professor Trelawney's perpetually dimly lit tower classroom was Hermione's nightmare for logical thinking.

On this day, Professor Trelawney asked her students to gaze at the crystal ball and interpret the "signs" of the future.

"I have decided to reveal the secrets of the crystal ball to you a little earlier than originally planned."

Professor Trelawney sat down with her back to the leaping flames in the fireplace, looked around the class, and said in a deliberately mysterious tone, “The goddess of fate is whispering. She tells me that this year’s exam will touch the realm of this deep orb, and I hope to grant you… ample opportunities for practice.”

Hermione let out a clearly audible sneer, her lips curling downwards without any attempt to hide it.

"Come on..."

She crossed her arms, her voice not lowered but clearly echoing in the smoke-filled classroom, “'The goddess of fate told her'? Who set the exam questions? It was herself! What an incredibly convenient 'prophecy'!”

Her tone was full of sarcasm.

Harry and Ron quickly lowered their heads, their shoulders trembling slightly as they desperately swallowed back the laughter that was rising in their throats.

Whether Professor Trelawney was feigning composure or genuinely hadn't heard, her expression remained unchanged, as if Hermione's sarcasm was merely smoke drifting through the classroom.

Hermione frowned, staring at the murky sphere in front of her. She could see nothing inside except her own blurry reflection and the distorted light from the ceiling chandelier.

“Oh, dear,” Professor Trelawney’s ethereal voice rang out above Hermione’s head, her tone sharp and menacing, “your mind is blank…a very thick fog…enveloping your vision.”

She shook her head, the jingling beads on her body swaying with her. “This is very unusual. Mist usually symbolizes confusion or uncertainty about the future, but such a complete blank… Miss Granger, I’m afraid I have to tell you with great regret that you seem to… completely lack the spiritual vision bestowed by the ‘Heavenly Eye.’ Your soul is too fixated on cold ‘facts,’ which blocks your connection with divination.”

Hermione's cheeks flushed bright red instantly.

She could tolerate Professor Trelawney's rambling and ambiguous predictions, and she could also tolerate her veiled criticism of her "lack of imagination," but the assertion that her "mind was blank," especially in front of the whole class, was like a sharp thorn piercing her proud self-esteem.

The frustration and dissatisfaction that had been building up over the past few months in this class suddenly exploded.

She jumped up from the cushion, the movement so forceful it nearly overturned the small coffee table beside her. The crystal ball in the tray wobbled precariously.

"No talent?!"

Hermione's voice rose with anger, unusually sharp, "Excuse me, Professor, what I see is not some 'fog' or 'blank'! What I see is the refraction and scattering of light on the curved surface of the crystal ball! What I see is probability and the Barnum effect in psychology! What I see is baseless speculation and over-interpretation of vague symbols! What I see is that this discipline lacks any verifiable foundation that can be called 'knowledge'!"

The entire classroom was completely silent.

All the students stared at Hermione in disbelief, forgetting to even breathe.

Ron's mouth was agape, big enough to fit an egg, and Harry stared at her in shock.

No one had ever dared to contradict Professor Trelawney so vehemently, let alone denounce her "sacred discipline" as nonsense.

Professor Trelawney seemed to have been struck by an invisible spell, and staggered back a step.

She clutched her chest, her face drained of color, and her magnified eyes stared incredulously at Hermione through thick glasses, filled with offended shock and anger.

"You... how dare you..."

"Why wouldn't I dare?" Hermione met her gaze without flinching, speaking rapidly, "Didn't your divine eyes foresee that I would say these things?"

Hermione's words came like a machine gun, relentlessly bombarding Professor Trelawney: "Isn't this the perfect opportunity to put my knowledge into practice? Professor, please predict immediately whether I should stay here and waste my precious time, or leave?"

"This is blasphemy...I refuse!"

Professor Trelawney's voice became sharp and trembling, "So narrow-minded. So...arrogant. You are blinded, utterly blinded by your pathetic narrow-mindedness! Get out, Miss Granger! Leave my classroom immediately."

"That's exactly what I want to do next!"

Hermione didn't back down. She quickly packed up her books and quill, her movements swift and decisive. "I don't want to waste any more of my precious time on this meaningless nonsense!"

Clutching her book, she straightened her back and left the Divination classroom without looking back, amidst Professor Trelawney's angry glare and the astonished gazes of the entire class.

Bright sunlight and fresh air rushed into Hermione's face from the corridor. She took a deep breath and felt the tightness in her chest disappear.

Although her actions just now were somewhat impulsive and might even cause trouble, she felt no regret, only a sense of liberation, as if she had broken free from her shackles.

Instead of wasting time speculating about a vague future amidst the haze of uncertainty, it's better to be grounded and learn practical knowledge that can truly change reality and protect yourself and your friends.

Her time is precious and shouldn't be wasted on charlatanry.

She walked with firm steps and a clear goal toward the library, leaving Professor Trelawney's lament of "Alas, my eyes are closed... How pitiful..." completely behind in the dim tower.

Just as Hermione descended the spiral staircase of the North Tower, she encountered the caretaker, Filch, in a secluded corner of the corridor.

He was hunched over, sulking over a pile of wet, limp mops and rags in the corner.

His cat, Mrs. Lorice, crouched to one side, her tail wagging impatiently.

"Damn it!"

Filch cursed in his hoarse voice, wanting to kick the pile of cleaning tools, but then gave up.

"The magic's gone again! They used to last at least a week..."

He tried chanting incantations over the mop, but because he couldn't actually cast a spell, the things remained lifeless and lying on the ground.

Hermione had intended to walk straight past, but seeing Filch's exasperated yet helpless expression, she paused in her tracks.

She recognized the faint traces of magic remaining on the cleaning tools; it was the fading of the revitalizing magic that Professor Lumina had once bestowed upon them.

A wave of sympathy washed over me.

“Mr. Filch,” Hermione stepped closer, her voice still a little hurried from the argument, but trying to be polite, “the magic in these tools is depleted and needs to be replenished.”

She took out her wand and gently tapped a magical node on the mop.

A faint white light flashed, and the mop immediately seemed to come alive, standing upright on its own and starting to scrub the floor with great enthusiasm.

Filch watched this scene in surprise, a complex light flashing in his cloudy eyes.

He muttered, "Oh...yes, that's it..."

Hermione patiently waved her wand again, bringing the rag back to life.

As he watched the cleaning tools resume their automatic operation, Filch's wrinkles seemed to smooth out a bit.

Just as Hermione was about to leave, Filch suddenly spoke hesitantly behind her, his voice much lower than usual: "Hermione Granger... do you... do you know, Professor Lumina... will she... will she come back? I mean... back to Hogwarts?"

His tone carried a cautious anticipation, his eyes fixed on Hermione.

Hermione turned around and looked at the faint light in Filch's eyes, recalling the rumors about the Defense Against the Dark Arts curse.

She shook her head slightly and said with certainty, "I don't know, Mr. Filch, but I personally think... Professor Lumina probably won't be coming back."

Filch's eyes dimmed quickly. He looked down at the mop bustling about at his feet, and mumbled again, "Oh... I guessed so..."

Then he stopped talking, and his back looked even more hunched and lonely.

Chapter 222 An Encounter at the Library

Hermione stopped talking and continued walking towards the library with her books in her arms.

Pushing open the heavy doors of the library, the familiar scent of parchment and old books inside eased her tense nerves slightly.

Hermione walked straight to her usual window seat, only to find someone standing nearby – Professor Greengrass.

He was taking a heavy book down from the tall bookshelf, comparing it with another book in his hand.

Hermione stopped in her tracks, her face flushing slightly as she recalled her "heroic feat" in the divination class and the potential uproar it might cause. She felt a little uneasy.

Sagrass seemed to sense her presence. He turned his head and looked at Hermione, his calm gray eyes seemingly able to see into people's hearts.

He closed the book in his hand, his voice gentle and deep: "Miss Granger, Locktis told me... you seem to have ended the North Tower course early?"

There was no blame in his tone; instead, there was a hint of understanding.

"How did you know, Professor?" Hermione asked, somewhat surprised.

Sagles smiled. "Lochtis has been looking for something in the castle recently."

Hermione nodded, wisely refraining from asking further questions.

But her face flushed even more, tinged with a stubborn refusal, and she explained, her words slightly hurried: “Yes, Professor. I… Professor Trelawney and I have some… disagreements. I believe that divination lacks a reliable empirical basis and is a waste of time!”

She recalled the argument from earlier, and her tone became somewhat agitated again.

Sagrais listened quietly, showing no surprise. He walked to an empty oak table and gestured for Hermione to sit down as well.

“Divination,” Sagrais’s voice remained calm, “is a discipline that relies heavily on talent. It’s like an elusive magical perception that cannot be mastered simply through diligent study. True prophets, like Professor Trelawney’s ancestors, are extremely rare.”

He looked at Hermione with a candid gaze, “For most people, including myself, spending a lot of time deciphering the shape of tea leaves, the illusion of a crystal ball, or the arrangement of stars often yields far less than investing the same amount of energy in knowledge areas that are logically clear and can be systematically learned and mastered.”

He gently patted the thick magic book in his hand.

"You...you don't believe in those prophecies either?"

Hermione asked with some surprise, as she had thought that a powerful wizard like Sargeras might be more in awe of those mysterious forces.

Sagras shook his head slightly, a barely perceptible smile curving his lips: "I believe that fate has its own trajectory, but rather than relying on vague and ambiguous prophecies, I believe more in seizing the present and shaping the future through my own knowledge and strength."

"Prophecy...if it exists, it is often obscure and difficult to understand, full of misleading information, and may even become a shackle that restricts action. Without that innate 'clairvoyance,' clinging to divination may indeed be a waste of time."

He looked at Hermione with understanding and a comforting, elder-like gaze. “So, leaving a course that frustrates you and that you see no value in is not cowardice or failure, but a wise choice. Hogwarts has many areas where you can invest your passion and intellect.”

Sagrais's words were like a cool spring, extinguishing the last trace of self-doubt and irritation Hermione felt because of "dropping out of the class."

His views coincided with her thoughts, which made her even more certain of her choice.

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione said sincerely, the last trace of resentment in her heart completely dissipating.