According to Rhys's class schedule, his first lesson of the new term was Divination.
This class, along with Care of Magical Creatures, Ancient Runes, Muggle Studies, and Arithmancy, made up the list of elective subjects for students below fifth year at Hogwarts.
When selecting electives, Rhys signed up for all of them—except Arithmancy. He was genuinely interested in the content of the others.
Daphne had chosen the exact same electives as Rhys. Whatever he filled in, she followed suit. Rhys had no objection to this; he believed all these classes had their own value.
More importantly, it meant someone else could help with the less meaningful homework... ehm..
Daphne had no idea what kind of future awaited her.
Just the thought of diving into the mysteries of Divination had her face lit up with excitement.
"Do you think once I learn Divination, I'll become an amazingly powerful Seer? Before the final exams, I could just predict what'll be on the test the next day." Daphne's eyes sparkled with anticipation.
It was just that… her expectations were a bit too unrealistic.
Even the legendary Seers couldn't reach the level she imagined—at best, a Seer might predict what kind of grade you'd get on your finals. And the accuracy of a prophecy was directly proportional to the importance of the event.
Only when facing events significant enough to influence the course of history could a Seer's powers truly reach their peak.
"Divination has little to do with hard work. Seers are born, not made—it's an ability truly passed down through bloodlines," Rhys explained, breaking the bad news to Daphne.
If someone was exceptionally good at reading people and their expressions, they could probably fake being a Seer. But at that point, they were more like a psychologist than a true prophet.
Hearing this, disappointment spread clearly across Daphne's face.
She grumbled, "Then why did we even sign up for this class? Might as well use that time to sleep."
Rhys nodded seriously. He had no intention of taking the lessons seriously, and as for the homework, he planned to let Daphne handle it.
The reason he chose the class was because he was interested in the professor.
According to the school documents, the current Divination professor was named Sybill Trelawney.
The moment he saw that surname, he decided to take the class.
"Trelawney" was no ordinary name—they were a family of Seers, practicing prophecy since ancient Greece. An ancestor of Professor Trelawney had left a deep impression on Rhys a thousand years ago, and he wanted to see how much of that ancestral power had been passed down.
"So you took this class just to meet the professor?!" Daphne couldn't understand Rhys's reasoning at all.
"Don't underestimate the Trelawney family. Her ancestor was once a priestess who delivered divine oracles. It's said that she was cursed by the gods for carelessly revealing prophecies, making it so that no one would believe her visions. Both the prophetic ability and the curse were passed down through her bloodline... Anyway, meeting her is still worth it."
Rhys gave Daphne a brief introduction to the history of the Trelawney family, leaving her wide-eyed in amazement. If that's really the case, doesn't the Trelawney family outshine the Greengrasses?
If Rhys could hear Daphne's inner thoughts, he would've told her: unfortunately, you're absolutely right.
The most noteworthy thing about the name "Greengrass" was its unbroken line of pure-blood descendants—but that pure bloodline hadn't passed down any specific magical talent. What it had passed down were silver hair and a few personality traits.
The name "Trelawney," on the other hand, had genuinely carried the gift of prophecy through its bloodline.
As they talked, they arrived at the North Tower.
Rhys climbed a steep spiral staircase and reached a small platform. It was enclosed, with only a single round trapdoor in the ceiling.
This was different from how Rhys remembered it—it had likely been renovated by later generations.
As the start of class drew nearer, the platform became increasingly crowded. Suddenly, the trapdoor opened, and a silver ladder dropped down from above, landing right in front of Rhys's feet. He climbed up and emerged into a strange-looking classroom.
The space above the trapdoor didn't resemble a classroom at all; it looked more like a teahouse tucked away in an attic. The circular room was filled with more than twenty small round tables, each surrounded by plump little cushions.
The moment Rhys entered the Divination classroom, he was hit with a heavy, cloying scent.
He followed the smell to its source and found it coming from the fireplace. It seemed Professor Trelawney had added some special herbs to the firewood, causing the room to be filled with the strange aroma.
Rhys twitched his nose a couple of times, trying to identify the ingredients in the fire: they were calming, insect-repelling herbs. Perhaps being in a sleepy, dreamlike state helped bring out one's divination talents?
Aside from the unpleasant scent, the classroom also suffered from terrible lighting.
In theory, being located at the top of the North Tower, the Divination classroom should have had the best natural light. However, Professor Trelawney had drawn all the curtains shut, and the lamps were covered with deep red shades.
As a result, everything in the room was bathed in a dim, crimson glow that made the atmosphere feel oppressive.
In addition to that, shelves lined the walls, stacked with various divination tools and instruments.
Once the last student had climbed up the ladder, Professor Trelawney emerged from the shadows of the classroom.
She had hidden herself remarkably well—most of the students hadn't noticed her presence at all at first. Even Rhys hadn't found her by sight.
After asking the students to sit, Professor Trelawney began softly and vaguely introducing the subject of Divination.
When Rhys heard her say, "If you do not possess the 'Inner Eye,' there is very little I can teach you," he nodded earnestly—that aligned perfectly with his own understanding.
However, what followed was disappointingly lacking in substance. After a string of mystical-sounding phrases and a few simple predictions, Professor Trelawney began the actual lesson for the day.
Their first lesson was tea leaf reading.
She divided the students into groups of three and instructed them to fetch tea from her, drink it down, and then interpret their futures from the tea leaves left in their cups.
Rhys was very familiar with this practice. He drained the scalding tea at an astonishing speed, then handed his empty teacup to Daphne. At that point, she hadn't even finished half of hers.
As she sipped the hot tea, she complained to Rhys that this class felt like a complete waste of time.
"Don't think of it like that. At the very least, we can use this to test whether we've awakened the 'Heavenly Eye' or possess the 'Inner Sight.' Of course, since your ancestors didn't include any Seers, you probably don't have that kind of talent," Rhys said.
Daphne: "…"
She felt an overwhelming urge to curse out loud—Wouldn't she know whether the Greengrass family had any Seers or not?
She slammed her teacup onto the table with a loud clunk, brimming with frustration. "Then I might as well have stayed in bed this morning!"
Her voice was a bit louder than she intended, and it seemed that Professor Trelawney, not far away, had overheard her.
She "floated" over to their table and picked up Rhys's teacup from beside Daphne.
"Let me see, dear." Professor Trelawney stared intently into the cup, gently rotating it counterclockwise.
Rhys looked up and quietly waited for Trelawney's prediction.
"Hmm… a wounded falcon. Child, you once had enemies, but it seems you've freed yourself from their influence?" Trelawney said, gazing into Rhys's eyes.
With years of experience, she would subtly adjust her predictions based on the subject's reactions. But starting with a negative prophecy had been her consistent habit for decades.
Rhys nodded—Trelawney wasn't wrong. He had once had very powerful enemies, and he had indeed dealt with them.
Seeing Rhys give a positive response, Professor Trelawney smiled. She knew this young wizard—he'd been one of the notable figures at Hogwarts in the past couple of years. While not as eye-catching as the Daphne Greengrass beside him, he was still a student worth paying attention to.
Through years of repeated research, Professor Trelawney had long since come to terms with the unfortunate reality that she hadn't inherited her ancestor's prophetic gift. Though she never admitted it out loud, deep down she had already accepted this fact.
And so, her version of Divination had gradually drifted—turning into something more akin to psychology.
Every year before the term began, she would gather information on the students who had signed up for Divination, analyze it, and prepare predictions tailored to each individual.
Her goal today was to win Daphne over—if she turned hostile, it would be difficult to run her class for the rest of the term. From Trelawney's perspective, Rhys, who seemed to have a good relationship with Daphne, was the perfect way in.
Her earlier question had sounded specific, but upon closer inspection, it was actually quite vague.
The false gods of the Norse pantheon were clearly Rhys's enemies—but what about Malfoy, who had frequently antagonized him during first year? Did he count as an enemy?
Rhys certainly never regarded him as one—he'd never even taken this descendant of the Malfoy family seriously.
But in Professor Trelawney's eyes, Draco Malfoy was obviously one of Rhys's enemies. And Malfoy had indeed been avoiding conflict with Rhys lately, so it made sense to say Rhys had "freed himself from their influence."
Rhys's agreement gave Trelawney the confidence to continue her prediction.
"Well then, but don't grow complacent—the falcon has only lost one wing. Your enemies will rise again one day." Trelawney didn't believe Draco Malfoy would give up so easily. She was convinced the two would clash again, and so she gave this ominous forecast.
"Let me take another look—" she continued rotating the teacup, then suddenly gasped and spoke in an odd, tremulous tone: "A club striking a hat… Oh, dear, this is not a lucky cup! Betrayal from a dear friend! Oh, poor child, tragic child!"
She stretched out her two bony hands, as if trying to offer Rhys a hug.
Rhys: …!!!
He narrowed his eyes and studied Professor Trelawney carefully—Was that prediction of yours deliberate, or just a lucky guess?
He had to admit, the prediction was surprisingly accurate.
Rhys craned his neck to peer into the teacup and found that Trelawney wasn't entirely making things up—the tea leaves really did form a pattern somewhat resembling what she described.
Daphne: ?!
Upon hearing Professor Trelawney's prophecy, she suddenly had the feeling of sitting at the table and getting struck by misfortune from the sky. Rhys's close friend would betray him? Who else could that be besides her? What was that old bat implying—was she going to betray Rhys!?
Wait—did her sister count as one of Rhys's close friends too?
And what about that Hermione Granger girl, who had known Rhys even earlier than she did…? Daphne's thoughts began spiraling.
Rhys only had to glance at Daphne's expression to know she'd taken the bait—Trelawney had her completely hooked.
He couldn't help rubbing his forehead and muttering, "It's not exactly betrayal. Just a minor disagreement between friends."
Trelawney's eyebrows twitched—she'd only meant to give Daphne a little emotional jab, but it turned out she'd hit the mark by accident. Looks like I'm in great form today! Hu hu hu~~
Trelawney grew cheerful. She decided to strike while the iron was hot and continue with another prediction.
But since the last two had been negative, she understood the principle of "too much of anything is bad," so she planned to say a few nice words and wrap up the reading—judging by that Greengrass girl's expression, she was already thoroughly shaken. With the troublemaker now subdued, the rest of the term would go much more smoothly.
Just a few pleasant words and today's mission will be a complete success, You Can DO this!! Trelawney encouraged herself silently. After drafting the words in her head, she once again rotated Rhys's teacup.
With a round of exaggerated theatrics to build anticipation, she finally spoke.
"I see brilliant starlight in your cup. The adult.. you will have limitless potential. Perhaps the entire wizarding world will speak your name in admiration. I see a cauldron for brewing potions, a badge symbolizing authority, and golden coins representing wealth… all hidden within that starlight. Child, you must seize this beautiful future—for if you act carelessly, everything in that starlight could vanish like a dream…" Trelawney intoned, her voice hazy and ambiguous.
In her eyes, a young wizard like Rhys—exceptionally gifted and closely connected to the heir of the Greengrass family—was practically guaranteed a brilliant future.
And even if things didn't turn out that way, she hadn't spoken in absolutes, had she?
Seeing Rhys didn't respond, Professor Trelawney returned the teacup to him and drifted away.
Once she was gone, Daphne cautiously asked, "Rhys… who do you think would betray you?"
Rhys shot her an annoyed glare. "Alright then, I'll just cut ties with all of you right now—no close friends means no close friends to stab me in the back, right?"
Daphne immediately shrank back and said no more.
But after a while, she pushed her own teacup toward Rhys, clearly hoping he would do a tea leaf reading for her.
"Let me see… Hmm… I can see your future." Rhys took the cup, pretended to study it seriously for a moment, then announced his conclusion.
"What future?" Daphne perked up, straining to catch every word.
"You're going to do two sets of Divination homework! Hmm hmm.. that's right." Rhys replied firmly and decisively—as if this was an absolute fate, unchangeable and beyond dispute.
"..."
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