Hogwarts: Harry Returns From The Witcher

After the third grade, with elective courses, the burden on their shoulders is even heavier.

at breakfast time.

Ron got the timetable from Percy. He and Harry chose the same elective courses. When he saw the densely packed courses on it, he immediately frowned and wailed: "Oh, no, why are there so many classes today? The school just started first day."

There are three sessions in the morning.

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

"Hermione is much busier than us." Harry finished his milk, cut off a muffin, and stuffed it into his mouth.

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

The first class is all about divination.

Of course there was a difference, but it was very small. On Hermione's class schedule, a slash was drawn after the divination class to mark another class of arithmetic divination at the same time.

"Is there no special arrangement?" Harry was also a little puzzled.

Hermione stood up and packed her schoolbag: "Of course, Professor McGonagall has figured out what to do for me, but there is a verbal agreement and I cannot tell others."

"Neither of us?" Ron muttered.

Hermione shook her head: "It's better, no matter how you say it, it's still a bit dangerous."

Harry didn't press.

He just has eyes like a cat's, not so much curiosity.

The Sorting Hat let out a bewilderment, and said bewitchingly, "Harry, I guess what it is, do you want to know, if you want, I beg..."

Harry interrupted it: "No, I don't want to."

The Sorting Hat wailed: "You can think about it."

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

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

Harry was unimpressed.

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

"I don't!" The Sorting Hat pushed the tip of the hat away, very arrogantly.

Ron pleaded: "Just tell me."

"Then let me think about what you have to do for me." The Sorting Hat shook its head, thinking about how to blackmail Ron with this matter.

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

"My mother bought the one, she didn't like it very much, it almost scratched Parvati's pillow last night, you are such a high-quality cat scratcher..."

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

"I'm going to keep my mouth shut."

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

Hermione snorted.

Ron was very disappointed, quickly stuffed a few mouthfuls of mutton for breakfast, and they headed to the top of the North Tower, two years in Hogwarts, which was an area they had never set foot in.

Had to get out of the castle and up a long flight of stairs.

Also encountered a very annoying portrait.

It claimed to be the Great, Handsome, Strong Sir Cadogan, a stout knight on a spotted pony, and pursued Harry all the way, inviting him to a duel.

It was not until they had climbed the last few stairs that there were no more portraits around that the clamor finally died away.

At the end of the stairs is a platform.

Many students have already gathered here, there is not even a single door on the surrounding walls, only a circular trapdoor on the ceiling with a brass plate inlaid on it.

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

"So how do we go up?" Ron frowned, a little puzzled, "We still have to bring a broom to the divination class?"

The Hufflepuff children were honest, and they howled.

Brooms are not common, usually only Quidditch players bring them to school.

They chattered.

The trap door opened suddenly, and a silver staircase was extended, which descended slowly without making any sound, and landed lightly in the middle 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 of all the boys to climb up.

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

There is a very strong smoke.

The curtains were tightly drawn to prevent the outside light from coming in, and the light source in the room all came from a huge fireplace. In this not so cold weather, the flames burned extremely vigorously.

The desks are not the usual long tables, but more than 20 round tables. Beside the tables are exquisite printed armchairs, and on the chairs sit a bunch of bulging futon pillows.

At the end of the classroom, on the circular wall, there is a row of shelves embedded with many atmosphere-filling candles, quills, playing cards, crystal balls, and tea cups.

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

The other little wizards probed their brains, looking for the professor.

It was class time, but the professor hadn't shown up yet, and this was the first person besides Lockhart.

Suddenly, a soft, vague voice sounded like a fortune teller, "Welcome, my dear little wizards, I finally see you in the material world."

Harry followed the voice, narrowing his eyes slightly.

In the shadows by the fireplace, a figure slowly walked out.

This Professor Trelawney is very "glamorous", with a thin body, but there are at least five or six catties of jewelry hanging on his body.

Pretty much the same as when Harry saw her last year, except for a few jewelry changes.

She called the rest of the students to sit down, lay down on an easy chair, swayed, and introduced softly: "I'm Professor Trelawney, you probably haven't seen me before."

"I rarely appear in front of ordinary people. The material world is too complicated and noisy, which will affect my third eye."

Talk to her.

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

"I'm going to put my ugly words up front. This course doesn't require anything but talent."

"Without insight, inspiration, and sensitivity to fate, you can't learn anything, except to memorize the textbooks and cope with the exam..."

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

As long as they can pass the exam, they don't expect much.

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

Neville, who was called by name, was taken aback for a moment, and stammered to answer: "Oh, she, she should be fine."

"If I were you, I wouldn't be so sure." Trelawney threw out such a sentence meaningfully.

Hermione and Harry frowned simultaneously.

Harry is looking forward to divination.

He personally came into contact with two prophecies.

One is that here, the prophecy about himself and Voldemort prompted the Dark Lord to fall him and get entangled with himself.

And the other is the prophecy related to Ciri in the world of the witcher, and that prophecy, he followed Geralt and Ciri almost to the end of the prophecy.

What is the essence of divination?

What exactly does the prophecy represent?

Is the fate arranged early in the morning, or is it that the totality of life together constitutes a person's destiny?

That's what Harry wanted to learn.

But Trelawney didn't teach this, just let them make tea, drink it up, and decipher the remaining tea leaves.

Hermione was a little impatient.

Harry patiently followed what she said, but it wasn't until Trelawney asked them to exchange teacups and began to interpret according to the contents of the book.

He couldn't feel the power of any rituals or magic.

Really just had a bad cup of tea.

Hermione twisted the teacup tangledly, with some dissatisfaction in her mouth: "It's hard to imagine that a random cup of tea can interpret other people's fate, it reminds me of those..."

Trelawney came over, her tone more dissatisfied than Hermione: "Divination is a magic that requires inspiration."

"Let me show you a demonstration."

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

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

Trelawney glared at her: "Big stick..."

"Oh dear, you're going to be attacked."

Hermione was expressionless: "For the first two years, Harry did this every semester."

The faces of the students who were just about to marvel became strange.

Trelawney ignored her and continued to turn the teacup. There was a sudden pause in the movement of her hands, and she gasped: "Oh, no, my dear child, why did you have such a symptom..."

"What is it?" Ron asked curiously.

Trelawney sobbed exaggeratedly: "It's ominous."

"A most dreadful and terrible omen, that great sullen dog that only haunts graveyards!"

"It's a sign of death."

Hermione gritted her teeth and stared at Trelawney fiercely: "Harry won't, you are a professor, how could you curse so viciously..."

She couldn't finish her sentence.

A strange wave of magical power suddenly surged up on Trelawney, and her aura suddenly became ethereal and empty. She slowly opened her mouth, and her voice became hoarse and deep.

"The red-haired crow changes flight paths."

"People born in December will slowly wake up."

"His servants are dying."

"And he, who is lonely, will be liberated when the heavy snow falls."

All the little wizards looked at her in surprise.

Trelawney shook her head, let go of her hand, and the teacup fell.

With quick eyes and hands, Harry caught it.

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

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

Trelawney was taken aback for a moment, then nodded in response: "Of course, an excellent fortuneteller will find every sign and make every qualified prediction."

As she spoke, she looked at Harry with a worried tone: "Harry, you have to be careful."

This time Hermione didn't pick a thorn in her side, took out the quill, and jotted down the prophecy just now.

There is another update at night, around ten o'clock

Thanks for the reward from Shenmayun~

Thanks to Mr. Zhang for having something to say, a real man with dry wood and fire, and Xue Xiexie for your reward~