Chapter 109. The Real Prophecy
Wesson was keenly aware that Trelawney was putting on airs.
So the best course was to press quickly for the information he wanted.
"It's about Professor Quirrell," Wesson cut straight to the point. "Do you remember making a prophecy for him?"
Trelawney's fingers suddenly stiffened.
"Professor Quirrell?" She pushed up her slipping glasses, looking perplexed.
"Yes," Wesson nodded. "Probably around this time last year."
Trelawney lowered her head and pondered for a while. At last, she looked up and clapped her hands. "Ah, I remember—there was such a thing."
"Then could you tell me what that prophecy was?" Wesson asked at once.
"I'm very sorry," Trelawney shook her head. "In fact, I don't know the specific content of the prophecies I make. All I know is that one morning I ran into Professor Quirrell in the corridor—and then I remember nothing."
"Nothing at all?" Wesson pressed.
Trelawney trembled and looked at Wesson, her voice rising into a hysterical pitch. "That is what a true prophecy is like, sir. I don't know… I really don't know… you shouldn't be asking me…"
"All right, Professor Trelawney, please don't get worked up. Calm down," Wesson hurried to soothe her.
Only then did Trelawney quieten.
Even so, Wesson felt she was still acting—likely to preserve her air of mystery as a Seer in front of him.
What could be confirmed was that Trelawney had indeed made a prophecy for Quirrell.
And that prophecy was very likely a true one.
Just as Quirrell's diary had put it: find the future.
At that thought, Wesson could not help but shake his head.
Yes, the future had been found—pity it was a future without a future.
At that moment, Wesson suddenly felt a strange gaze.
He looked at Trelawney and found her staring at him with an unprecedentedly hollow look.
In an instant, the hairs at the back of Wesson's neck stood on end.
This woman was anything but simple!
"The Black Forest of Albania—" Trelawney said in an unnervingly sharp, eerie voice. "You are there—"
She was making a true prophecy—and the target was him!
Wesson focused his mind, fixing all his attention on Trelawney, waiting for her next words.
The air in the room seemed to congeal; even the drifting incense hung motionless in mid-air.
However, the prophecy ended there.
Trelawney came back to herself as if nothing had happened and asked, "Do you have anything else, Professor Wesson?"
"No," Wesson slowly shook his head. "Nothing at all."
After that, Wesson chatted with Trelawney for a while.
Yet no matter how he hinted, Trelawney could not slip back into that mysterious prophetic state from moments ago.
Leaving Trelawney's room, Wesson kept turning her two lines over in his mind.
"The Black Forest of Albania" and "You are there."
So, was Wesson going to head to Albania later?
That was where Quirrell had been possessed by Lord Voldemort.
Wesson could not help being curious—what would he encounter in that place?
A pity that Trelawney was only a half-baked Seer, able to give nothing but these ambiguous prophecies.
In fact, Wesson had once been to Albania, but he hadn't ventured deep into the forest then; that place carried a certain degree of danger.
If you went missing inside, no one would be able to find you.
Wesson was seized by a vague feeling—he had to set out for the Black Forest of Albania at once.
By the time he reached his office, the feeling only grew stronger.
Perhaps, during the summer holidays, he could take a look over there…
This term's Hogwarts final examinations would last five days in total, from the second to the sixth.
Then on the seventh, there would be the last Quidditch match of the term.
Finally, on the ninth, the End-of-Term Feast.
Time rushed on to the exams.
Preparing examinations was a troublesome business.
Because Wesson was also responsible for part of the Defence Against the Dark Arts exams, he poured a great deal of effort into them.
In Defence Against the Dark Arts.
Having come up the hard way from his own student days, Wesson knew well the importance of O.W.L.s, so he designed written exam papers for second-, third-, and fourth-years that were nearly O.W.L.-level in difficulty.
O.W.L.s must be prepared for from the lower years up!
Feel Professor Wesson's loving care, children!
Of course, the first-years' exams proceeded as usual.
After all, first-years' knowledge reserves were still too limited.
All right—Hermione was the exception.
As for the practicals, Wesson did not hold out too much hope for the students; he simply prepared some harmless dummies as the exam content.
He had no time to prepare anything else in particular.
But those dummies were no simple matter. To design them, Wesson had specially sought out Professor Flitwick's help.
For the lower years, the dummies would sing and dance; for the higher years, they could even cast a truncated Shield Charm on their own.
In Care of Magical Creatures.
Thanks to Roskin's support, Wesson had many more options to choose from.
As long as the magical creature could be found on the market, he could get it.
In the end, Wesson prepared a large pack of Crups for the third- and fourth-years; in the exam, they needed to get one Crup to eat the steak in their hand—which was easy, because the Crups Wesson had prepared were extremely trusting of wizards. The students hardly needed to do anything before the Crups came bounding up, tails wagging.
As for the fifth-year exams, Wesson did not need to handle those.
O.W.L.s were administered by the Wizarding Examinations Authority of the Ministry of Magic.
Wesson only needed to ensure his students achieved good results in their exams.
In this, he had some confidence.
He believed in his own teaching.
The final examinations ended quickly.
The seventh.
Today was the last Quidditch match of the term.
Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw.
Though they had just come through a long stretch of exams, Harry was still full of energy.
In fact, the Quidditch Cup this term was already without suspense—they had won almost every match.
As a result, Gryffindor's points far outstripped the other Houses.
Even if they lost this one, the final outcome would be unchanged—Gryffindor's victory.
Even so, the match went very smoothly.
In the end, Harry cleanly seized the Golden Snitch, and the score settled at 320–150. Gryffindor won by a landslide.
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