Hogwarts truly seed to have returned to its usual tranquillity.
The Dentors had withdrawn, and the oppressive atmosphere around the castle had vanished.
Students' conversations shifted from the terrifying shadow of Black to Lockhart's ignominious capture and the duelling competition.
Hermione Granger was still one of the busiest students.
She carried a thick stack of books, darting through the corridors like a gust of wind, rushing from one classroom to another, trying to seize every single second to study.
Her schedule was packed with various classes, assignnts, and library research, to the point that she even resorted to using a Ti-Turner.
However, in the Divination classroom, the atmosphere was completely different.
Professor Trelawney's perpetually dim tower classroom was a nightmare for Hermione's logical mind.
On this day, Professor Trelawney asked the students to peer into crystal balls and interpret the "ons" of the future.
"I have decided, a little earlier than planned, to reveal the mysteries of the crystal ball to you," Professor Trelawney said, sitting with her back to the flickering fireplace and surveying the class in a deliberately mysterious tone. "The Fates are whispering to , and they tell that this year's exams will touch upon the realm of this profound orb. I therefore hope to grant you… ample opportunities for practice."
Hermione let out a clearly audible snort, her lips turning down without the slightest attempt at concealnt.
"Oh, please…"
She folded her arms, her voice not lowered in the slightest but ringing clearly through the smoky classroom. "The Fates told her? Who sets the exam questions? Isn't it her! What a convenient 'prophecy'!"
Her tone was heavy with sarcasm.
Harry and Ron quickly lowered their heads, their shoulders shaking despite themselves as they desperately swallowed the laughter rising in their throats. Hermione.. talking bad about a Professor? In front of the Professor?
Professor Trelawney, whether feigning composure or genuinely not hearing, remained expressionless, as though Hermione's mockery were nothing more than smoke drifting through the classroom.
Hermione frowned, staring at the murky orb before her. She saw nothing but her own blurred reflection and the distorted glow of the chandelier above.
"Oh, my dear," Professor Trelawney's ethereal voice floated down over Hermione's head, her tone sharpening slightly. "Your mind is a blank… a very heavy mist shrouds your vision."
She shook her head, the beads around her neck clinking softly as they swayed. "This is most unusual. Mist usually symbolises confusion or uncertainty in the future, but such complete blankness… Miss Granger, I must regretfully tell you that you appear to possess no gift of Inner Sight whatsoever. Your soul is far too fixated on cold 'facts,' which obstructs your connection to Divination."
Hermione's cheeks instantly flushed crimson.
She could tolerate Professor Trelawney's rambling, ambiguous prophecies, and she could tolerate the veiled jabs about her "lack of imagination," but the judgent of having "a blank mind," especially in front of the entire class, was like a sharp thorn driven into her pride.
The frustration and dissatisfaction that had been building over months in this class erupted at once.
She sprang up from her cushion so abruptly that she nearly knocked over the small tea table beside her. The crystal ball wobbled dangerously in its tray.
"No talent?!"
Hermione's voice rang out, sharp with anger. "With all due respect, Professor, what I see is not 'mist' or 'blankness'! What I see is rely the refraction and scattering of light on the curved surface of a crystal ball! What I see is the Barnum effect in probability and psychology! What I see is baseless speculation and the over-interpretation of vague symbols! What I see is the complete lack of any verifiable foundation that could be called 'knowledge' in this subject!"
The entire classroom fell silent.
Every student stared at Hermione, forgetting even to breathe.
Ron's mouth hung open wide enough to fit an egg, and Harry looked at her in equal shock.
No one had ever dared to contradict Professor Trelawney so fiercely, let alone dismiss her "sacred subject" as utter nonsense.
Professor Trelawney seed to have been struck by an invisible spell, staggering back a step.
She clutched her chest, her face draining of colour, her magnified eyes staring incredulously at Hermione through thick lenses, filled with offended shock and fury.
"You… you dare…"
"Why not?" Hermione t her gaze without fear, speaking rapidly. "Did your Inner Eye not foresee that I would say these words?"
Her words ca like a barrage as Hermione pressed on. "Isn't this a perfect opportunity for practice right now? Professor, please predict imdiately whether I will continue to waste my precious ti in this place, or whether I will leave at once."
"This is sacrilege… I refuse!"
Professor Trelawney's voice rose, shrill and trembling. "So narrow-minded. So… arrogant. You are blinded, completely blinded, by your pitiful, narrow mind! Get out, Miss Granger! Leave my classroom at once!"
"That is exactly what I intend to do!"
Hermione did not back down. She swiftly gathered her books and quill, her movents sharp and resolute. "I have no intention of wasting my precious ti any longer on this aningless nonsense!"
She clutched her books, her back straight, and without looking back, she left the Divination classroom under Professor Trelawney's furious glare and the astonished stares of the entire class.
Bright sunlight and fresh air greeted her in the corridor. Hermione took a deep breath, feeling the tightness in her chest gradually ease.
Although her actions had been sowhat impulsive and might even lead to trouble, she felt no regret, only the exhilaration of breaking free from shackles.
Rather than wasting ti in smoke-filled rooms guessing at so ethereal future, it was better to be practical and learn the knowledge that could truly change reality and protect herself and her friends.
Her ti was precious and not to be squandered on empty charades.
She walked with purposeful strides toward the library, leaving Professor Trelawney's muttered lants of "Inner Eye blocked… pathetic…" far behind in the dim tower.
As she descended the spiral staircase of the North Tower, Hermione encountered the caretaker, Filch, at a secluded corner of the corridor.
He was hunched over, sulking beside a pile of wet, limp mops and rags stacked against the wall.
His cat, Mrs Norris, squatted nearby, her tail flicking impatiently.
"Blasted things!" Filch snarled in his raspy voice, as if he wanted to kick the heap of cleaning tools, but ultimately thought better of it.
"Out of magic again! They used to last at least a week…"
He muttered incantations at the mops, but since he could not truly cast magic, the tools remained lifelessly slumped on the floor.
Hermione had initially intended to walk straight past, but seeing Filch's exasperation and helplessness, her steps slowed to a halt.
She recognised the faint traces of magic lingering on the cleaning tools; it was the animating charm Professor Lumina had once placed on them, and it was now wearing off.
A flicker of sympathy rose in her chest.
"Mr Filch," Hermione stepped closer, her voice still a little tight from the earlier argunt, though she made an effort to remain polite. "The magic on these tools has run out. They need to be recharged."
She took out her wand and lightly tapped a magical node on one of the mops.
A faint white glow flashed, and the mop imdiately sprang to life, straightening itself and beginning to scrub the floor vigorously on its own.
Filch stared at the scene in surprise, a complicated expression flickering through his cloudy eyes.
"Oh… right… that's it…" he muttered.
Hermione patiently flicked her wand again, restoring the rags as well.
As the cleaning tools resud their work automatically, the deep lines on Filch's face seed to soften slightly.
Just as Hermione was about to leave, Filch spoke hesitantly behind her, his voice far quieter than usual. "Hermione Granger… do… do you know if Professor Lumina… she… will she be coming back? I an… back to Hogwarts?"
There was a cautious note of hope in his tone as he looked at her.
Hermione turned around. Seeing the faint light in Filch's eyes, she was reminded of the rumours surrounding the curse on the Defence Against the Dark Arts position.
She shook her head gently and replied with quiet certainty, "I don't know, Mr Filch. But personally… I don't think Professor Lumina will be coming back."
The light in Filch's eyes faded almost at once. He lowered his head, looking at the mops busily working at his feet, and murmured vaguely, "Oh… I suppose so…"
He said nothing more, his figure seeming even more hunched and desolate than before.
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