It's just so unfair," Hermione said. "Yours wasn't even that bad. Goyle's potion looked like lava, and Parkinson's had boiled dry –"
"When has Snape ever been fair to me?" Harry sighed.
"Cheer up, mate, at least he didn't take points from you," Ron said. "'No helping each other.' Cohen just gave me a hint. I actually think Cohen's teaching is better than Snape's."
"Don't talk nonsense," Cohen interjected. "Don't make it sound like I'll actually end up teaching – I absolutely hate teaching people."
After lunch, they rested for a bit, then prepared for their Divination class. Harry, Cohen, and Ron had Divination, while Hermione had Arithmancy.
Professor Trelawney's attic had changed its décor again. This time, it was filled with square cushions for them to sit on, the tables and chairs removed, and the air was thick with grey, smoky incense.
This lesson was about dream interpretation –
"Dream interpretation is a most important method of foretelling the future, and it is also a question very likely to appear on your O.W.L. exams..." Trelawney said. "Of course, I believe that compared to the sacred art of Divination, passing the exam is quite an unimportant matter. As long as you possess the Inner Eye, those certificates and grades are mere trifles..."
"Staring at the gem on top of the water snake's head all day won't make anyone an emperor," Cohen muttered to Harry and Ron. "I think it's best to avoid prophecies."
"Please turn to the Introduction," Professor Trelawney said, giving Cohen's group a stern look, as if scolding him for his disrespectful attitude towards "the art."
"Read what Inmaig says on the subject of dream interpretation, and then attempt to interpret the recent dreams of your classmates."
The incense-filled room, which made everyone sleepy, was hardly an ideal place for dream interpretation; it was much better suited for dreaming. Cohen decided to ponder what name he should use when corresponding with his "pen pal" after class.
"Cohen, have you had any dreams lately?" Ron asked Cohen. "Like last night? After the toad attacked you in the night –"
"I don't really dream much now," Cohen said, idly doodling on his parchment. "And your phrasing is, dare I say, quite disgusting."
"What about you, Harry?" Ron asked next.
"I don't really remember either," Harry mused, thinking hard. "Who remembers what they dreamed about before...?"
"Alright..." Ron racked his brain, recalling. "Let me see – I think I dreamed about playing Quidditch again – what does that mean?"
Harry flipped through The Dream Oracle, the incense making his eyes droop.
"It probably means you'll be eaten by a giant marshmallow," Harry said.
"It means you'll become a Quidditch player, but the path will be a little bumpy," Cohen said absently.
"Cohen's explanation sounds quite promising," Ron said, nodding, very pleased. "But how will I be able to afford a broom? If there's really no other way..."
"This is why I said 'don't stare at the crystal ball all day'," Cohen told him. "You'll soon abandon some of your principles and become a volunteer for Fred and George, all because of a casually spoken prophecy."
Ron shivered, as if he'd just thought of Doxy droppings.
"Cohen, what are you writing?" He suddenly noticed the string of words Cohen was writing on the paper.
"What?" Harry also became interested, thinking Cohen wanted to play ink chess again, or perhaps hangman – anything was more fun than making absurd interpretations of meaningless dreams.
"I'm thinking of a name that doesn't reveal my identity but still sounds really cool," Cohen explained. "Do you think 'Sorrowful Cloaked Hero' is better, or 'Mysterious Dark-Robed Monster'? I could also choose something others have used, like 'Destroyer Phoenix Man' – but that might be mistaken for Dumbledore..."
"Destroyer Phoenix Man – hahahahahaha –" Harry's drowsiness was instantly banished by Cohen's names, especially after Cohen linked it to Dumbledore.
Even though Harry hadn't laughed very loudly, Professor Trelawney still heard the commotion and stalked towards them, looking very displeased.
"Are you having some trouble?" Professor Trelawney asked in an unpleasant tone, snatching the paper from Cohen's hand.
Unfortunately, after Trelawney realized that names like "Sorrowful Cloaked Hero," "Mysterious Dark-Robed Monster," "Destroyer Phoenix Man," and "Bruce Wayne" weren't dreams but ridiculous nicknames, she assigned the three of them even more homework.
"Record two months' worth of dreams?!" Ron's eyes widened. "We already have loads of homework!"
"Divination has only this one assignment," Trelawney's voice was no longer hazy, in fact, it sounded rather like Professor McGonagall's. "No excuses will be accepted."
"Evil old woman." Ron grumbled resentfully after class.
"At least there's only one more class today," Harry said. "The pink toad's."
"I think your top priority right now is to quickly come up with a god-tier ID for yourselves too," Cohen said.
After six classes in one day, almost every student dragged their tired bodies to the final lesson. When they entered the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, they found Umbridge already seated behind the teacher's desk.
She was still wearing her fluffy pink cardigan, with a black velvet bow on her head, looking like a fly that had landed on an even larger toad.
"Good afternoon, class!" she chirped after all the students had settled down. Only a handful muttered "good afternoon" in reply.
"Tut, tut." Umbridge seemed quite displeased with the students' response, her fake smile still plastered on her face. "This won't do, will it? I expect you to reply thus: 'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge.' Let's try that again. Good afternoon, class!"
"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge!" the students replied in a ragged chorus.
The reason for the raggedness was that Harry and Cohen had answered, "Good afternoon, Pink Toady Woman." But due to the chaotic volume, Umbridge couldn't distinguish what specific words were being said in the unusual replies.
"Sounds like it needs more practice," Umbridge said in her simpering voice. "But it's not too difficult, is it? Wands away, quills out."
The students sighed, because when a teacher said "wands away," it meant the class was about to become a completely dull, theoretical lesson.
Umbridge tapped the blackboard with her stubby wand, and a line of text immediately appeared:
DEFENCE AGAINST THE DARK ARTS
A Return to Basic Principles
The subsequent content... Umbridge, using her Ministry-published textbook, re-compiled a set of academic terms with a naming convention Cohen had only seen in old university textbooks, seemingly attempting to confuse the students and thus increase their study time.
"This method was definitely copied from Asia," Cohen whispered to Harry.
"You sound as though you have an opinion on our curriculum, Mr. Norton." Umbridge's face was still plastered with a smile, revealing her sharp, tiny teeth.
The previously drowsy atmosphere instantly vanished, and everyone stared fixedly at Cohen.