After the third grade, with the addition of elective courses, they have a heavier burden on their shoulders.

At breakfast time.

Ron got the schedule from Percy. He and Harry chose the same elective course. When he saw the densely packed courses, his brows immediately frowned and he wailed, "Oh, no, why are there so many classes today? It's only the first day of school."

There are three classes in the morning.

After a short break at noon, there are three more classes in the afternoon.

"Hermione is much busier than us." Harry finished his milk, cut off a piece of muffin and put it in his mouth.

Ron leaned over to look, then turned his head back and compared it with his own schedule, a little confused: "Hermione, yours doesn't seem to be any different from ours."

The first class is all about divination.

Of course there is a difference, but it is very slight. On Hermione's timetable, there is a slash after the Divination class, marking another Arithmancy class at the same time.

"No special arrangements?" Harry was also a little confused.

Hermione stood up and packed her bag, "Of course, Professor McGonagall has figured out what to do for me, but there is a verbal agreement that I can't tell anyone else."

"None of us?" Ron muttered.

Hermione shook her head: "It's better. That thing is still somewhat dangerous."

Harry didn't ask.

He just has eyes like a cat and isn't that curious.

The Sorting Hat made a sound of realization and said temptingly, "Harry, I know what it is. Do you want to know? If you want, just beg..."

Harry interrupted, "No, I don't."

The Sorting Hat whined, "You can think."

"But I really don't want to." Harry refused decisively.

The Sorting Hat shook its tip and scratched the back of Harry's hand: "You can really think about it. It's a very interesting thing. I think you need it too."

Harry was unmoved.

Ron leaned his head forward, like a pug, full of interest: "I think, I think, you don't tell Harry, tell me secretly."

"I don't!" The Sorting Hat turned its tip away arrogantly.

Ron begged, "Just tell me."

"Then let me think about what you can do to help me." The Sorting Hat shook its head and thought about how to use this matter to threaten Ron.

Hermione patted it and said, "Don't tell me, or I'll take you back and use you as a scratching post for Crookshanks."

"My mom bought this one, but he doesn't like it very much. He almost scratched Parvati's pillow last night. Your scratching post is so good..."

The Sorting Hat cried out in panic, "No, Miss Granger, please don't!"

"I will keep my mouth shut."

"I've been making cat scratching posts for decades and I really don't want to do that anymore."

Hermione snorted.

Ron was very disappointed. He quickly stuffed a few mouthfuls of mutton and finished his breakfast. Then they went to the top of the North Tower. In their two years at Hogwarts, that was an area they had never set foot in.

You have to walk out of the castle and up the long stairs.

I also encountered a very annoying portrait.

It claims to be the great, handsome, and strong Sir Cadogan, a short and fat knight riding a spotted pony, and he chases Harry all the way and challenges him to a duel.

It was not until they climbed the last few steps and there were no more portraits around that the noisy shouting finally died down.

At the end of the stairs is a platform.

Many students have gathered here. There is not a single door on the walls. There is only a round trapdoor on the ceiling with a brass plate inlaid on it.

"Sybill Trelawney, Divination Professor." Ron followed Harry's gaze and read the words on the copper plate.

"So how are we going to get up there?" Ron frowned, somewhat puzzled. "Do we need to bring a broom to Divination class?"

The Hufflepuffs were very obedient, and they whined.

Brooms are not common and are usually only brought to school by Quidditch players.

They chattered and discussed.

The trapdoor suddenly opened, extending a silver staircase that slowly descended without making any sound, and landed lightly in the center of the crowd.

Hufflepuff breathed a sigh of relief.

No need for a broom!

They lined up and climbed up one by one, men first, and Harry was the last boy to climb up.

There were many strange rooms in Hogwarts, but this one was probably the strangest of all the rooms Harry had ever seen, and it reminded him of the kitchen.

There is a strong smell of fireworks.

The curtains were drawn tightly to prevent any light from outside from coming in, and the light in the room all came from a huge fireplace. In this not-too-cold weather, the flames were burning brightly.

The desks are not the common long tables, but more than 20 round tables. Next to the tables are exquisitely printed armchairs, and on the chairs are piles of plump futons and pillows.

At the end of the classroom, on the circular wall, there was a row of shelves filled with candles, feather pens, playing cards, crystal balls, and tea cups to fill the atmosphere.

Harry, Hermione and Ron, the three of them found a table and sat down together.

The other little wizards poked their heads around, looking for the professor.

It was time for the class, but the professor hadn't shown up yet. This was the first person other than Lockhart to show up.

Suddenly, a soft, vague voice with a very fortune-teller's flavor came, "Welcome, my dear little wizards, I finally see you in the material world."

Harry looked in the direction of the voice and narrowed his eyes slightly.

In the shadow beside the fireplace, a figure slowly walked out.

Professor Trelawney was very "dazzling". She was thin, but she was covered with jewelry of all sizes, weighing at least five or six kilograms.

It was much the same as when Harry had seen her last year, except for a few changes in jewelry.

She asked the remaining students to sit down, and she lay down on an easy chair, rocking back and forth, and introduced herself softly: "I am Professor Trelawney. You probably haven't seen me before."

"I rarely appear before mortals. The material world is too complicated and noisy, which will affect my third eye."

She paused while talking.

The voice became more mysterious: "Divination is the most profound skill of all magic. It is the ability to peek into the future and destiny. It is the ability to peek into the realm of gods."

"Let me be frank with you. This course requires nothing but talent."

"Without insight, inspiration, and a keen sense of fate, you can learn nothing except memorizing the textbooks and coping with exams..."

Most of the nervous little wizards immediately breathed a sigh of relief.

As long as they can cope with the exam, they don’t ask for much.

"Neville, is your grandmother okay?" Trelawney asked suddenly.

Neville was stunned when he was named, and stammered: "Oh, she, she should be fine."

"If I were you, I wouldn't be so sure." Trelawney said this meaningfully.

Hermione and Harry frowned at the same time.

Harry was looking forward to divination.

He had personally come into contact with two prophecies.

One is that here, the prophecy about himself and Voldemort led to the fall of the Dark Lord and became entangled with himself.

The other one is about a prophecy related to Ciri in the Witcher world, and he is almost reaching the end of the prophecy with Geralt and Ciri.

What is the nature of divination?

What does prophecy really represent?

Is fate arranged in advance, or does everything in life together constitute a person's destiny?

That was what Harry wanted to learn.

But Trelawney didn't teach them these things. She just asked them to make tea, drink the tea, and interpret the remaining tea leaves.

Hermione was a little impatient.

Harry patiently did as she said, until Trelawney asked them to exchange teacups and start interpreting the contents of the book.

He couldn't feel any ritual or magical power.

Really just had a cup of tea that tasted pretty bad.

Hermione turned the teacup in confusion, saying with some dissatisfaction: "It's hard to imagine that a cup of tea can interpret other people's fate. This reminds me of those..."

Trelawney came over and said in a more dissatisfied tone than Hermione: "Divination is a magic that requires inspiration."

"Let me show you how."

She snatched Hermione's teacup and turned it counterclockwise, "Eagle, dear, you have a mortal enemy."

Hermione sneered and shook her head: "Everyone knows about what happened between Harry and You-Know-Who."

Trelawney glared at her. "Bludgeon..."

"Oh, honey, you're in for an attack."

Hermione deadpanned, "Harry was like this every semester for the first two years."

The students, who were about to be amazed, looked strange.

Trelawney ignored her and continued to turn the teacup. Suddenly, she paused and took a breath of cold air: "Oh, no, my dear child, how could you have such a sign..."

"What is it?" Ron asked curiously.

Trelawney sobbed exaggeratedly, "It's ominous."

"A most terrible and terrible omen, a great gloomy dog ​​that only haunts graveyards!"

"It's a sign of death."

Hermione gritted her teeth and stared at Trelawney fiercely: "No way, Harry, you are a professor, how can you curse so viciously..."

She didn't finish her words.

Suddenly, a strange wave of magical power surged from Trelawney's body. Her whole aura suddenly became ethereal and vague. She slowly opened her mouth and her voice became hoarse and low.

"The red-haired crow changes its flight path."

"People born in December will slowly wake up."

"His servants meet their death."

"And he, who is all alone, will be liberated when the snow falls."

All the little wizards looked at her in surprise.

Trelawney shook her head, her grip loosened, and the cup dropped.

Harry was quick to catch it.

"What's wrong?" Trelawney asked in her unique ethereal voice.

Hermione stammered, "You, you just made a prophecy."

Trelawney was stunned for a moment, then nodded in agreement: "Of course, a good fortune teller will find every sign and make every qualified prediction."

As she spoke, she looked at Harry and said with some concern: "Harry, you better be careful."

This time Hermione didn't criticize her. She took out her quill and quickly wrote down the prophecy.