"Sherlock, she must have told you what she's going to do, right?"
Watching Hermione leave in a hurry after finishing her meal, both Harry and Ron were a bit puzzled.
"She didn't tell me," Sherlock shook his head in response to Ron's question. "But I know anyway."
"What's she doing?"
"Looking up information."
"Looking up information?"
"Yes, information related to house-elves."
Under Harry and Ron's astonished gazes, Sherlock said leisurely, "I think when she stops running to the library, she'll be able to tell us all about the history and origins of house-elves."
"..."
Hermione's obsession with house-elves left Harry and Ron speechless.
Sherlock didn't particularly care about it.
As long as she didn't do anything too outrageous, he'd let her be.
If it were in the past, even if Hermione had torn the roof off Hogwarts Castle, Sherlock wouldn't have intervened.
But things were different now.
Before the start of this term, Mrs. Holmes had specifically asked him to look after Hermione at school.
In fact, before their first year began, Mrs. Holmes had mentioned this when she first met the Granger family.
However, Sherlock hadn't paid much attention to it at the time.
But times had changed.
Four years had passed, and the relationship between the two families had long since become extraordinary.
He and Hermione had also become good friends.
Taking care of a little girl would have been troublesome for Sherlock, but looking after a young lady who was also his friend was entirely different.
Not to mention that from age eleven to fourteen, Sherlock himself had been growing up too.
Since he had promised his mother, he would definitely follow through.
When the afternoon class bell rang, Sherlock, Harry, Ron, and the other young wizards who had chosen Divination headed toward the North Tower.
The Divination classroom was different from other classrooms. It was at the top of a very narrow spiral staircase, with a silver ladder leading up to a trapdoor in the ceiling.
Sherlock naturally knew this was deliberately arranged by Professor Trelawney to create an air of mystery.
Upon entering the classroom, a familiar sweet fragrance wafted from the fire, making one involuntarily feel dazed.
This was also part of Professor Trelawney's atmosphere-building, designed to make the young wizards' minds go from clear to foggy, making it easier for her to spout nonsense.
After a summer break, the place remained exactly as before, with curtains drawn tightly shut.
Many lamps were lit in the circular room, all covered with scarves and shawls, bathing the entire room in a hazy red glow.
"Hello there."
The three had just sat down when Professor Trelawney's ethereal, otherworldly voice suddenly came from behind them.
Harry and Ron both jumped.
Only Sherlock quietly observed this descendant of the famous Seer, saying without changing expression, "Hello, Professor."
Professor Trelawney looked the same as before, wearing huge glasses that made her two eyes alarmingly large on her thin face.
Her strings of beads, necklaces, and bracelets glittered in the firelight as usual.
Her small body seemed to contain tremendous power.
Being stared at directly by Sherlock, she uncomfortably shifted her gaze away, then looked at Harry.
This made Harry feel very uncomfortable.
Because her face bore a tragic expression—the same expression she wore every time she saw Harry.
"You are troubled, my dear."
She said mournfully to Harry:
"My Inner Eye sees through your brave face to your troubled soul within.
I am sorry to tell you that your worries are not unfounded.
I see difficult days ahead of you... very difficult...
I fear the thing you dread will truly come... perhaps sooner than you imagine..."
Professor Trelawney's voice gradually lowered, finally becoming like a whisper.
Ron couldn't help but roll his eyes.
Harry stared at her expressionlessly.
He had grown accustomed to feeling disgusted by such doom-laden prophecies, yet couldn't escape the professor's mournful gaze behind those huge lenses.
Just then, Sherlock coughed lightly, breaking the silence.
"You've had quite a full morning, Professor."
His gray eyes looked calmly at Professor Trelawney, his voice steady yet carrying an undeniable penetrating force, as if it could tear through the hazy sweet-scented mist in the classroom.
"You first consulted the original manuscripts of the 12th-century astrologer Cassandra in the library, trying to find new evidence to embellish next week's lesson content.
Unfortunately, those worn parchments were covered in too much dust—just look at the gray marks on your left cheek and collar.
After that, you hurriedly ate a piece of buttered bread for lunch. The breadcrumbs on the back of your hand aren't completely wiped off yet.
But the most interesting detail is that you also drank a small bottle of alcohol with lunch, didn't you?
I'm guessing butterbeer with sherry?
That smell mingles in your breath—sweetness mixed with the tipsy sensation of alcohol. Combined with the sweet scent from the fireplace in this classroom, it becomes even more obvious."
Professor Trelawney froze completely. Her thin face turned instantly pale, her eyes behind the huge lenses widened vividly, revealing incredulous terror.
"I... I didn't..."
She stammered in refutation, her voice losing its usual ethereal tone, becoming hoarse and shrill.
Her body, draped with beads and bracelets, trembled slightly, as if Sherlock's words weren't deductions but direct exposure of her carefully constructed facade.
Ron's mouth dropped open in amazement, nearly sliding off his chair from where he was leaning on the armrest.
"Wow!"
He couldn't help but exclaim softly, his eyes were sparkling with wonder.
"Don't try to deny it, Professor."
Sherlock remained unmoved; his tone still calm. "Your eyelids are reddish, your pupils somewhat dilated—these are signs of alcohol's effects.
More importantly, your emotional fluctuations are too extreme, the anxiety from researching this morning, combined with alcohol's excitatory effects, is what's making you so emotionally target Harry right now.
I suggest you go drink some water to sober up. That would be more helpful for classroom order."
Professor Trelawney's face flushed red, no longer wearing a mournful expression but a mixture of embarrassment and panic.
She hurriedly looked away, no longer daring to look at Harry, fumbling to adjust the glittering ornaments on her body.
"This... this is complete nonsense!"
She tried to maintain composure, but the tremor in her voice betrayed her.
"I... we must begin our regular lesson now! We can't waste any more..."
As if being chased by something, she quickly turned and swept past them, sitting in a large winged armchair in front of the fire, facing the entire class.
Harry let out a long breath, his rigid body finally relaxing.
He looked at Sherlock, his green eyes full of sincere gratitude.
"Thanks, Sherlock. That really helped."
Ron leaned over, nudging Sherlock with his elbow, grinning with undisguised admiration on his face:
"Bloody hell, Sherlock! That was brilliant!
I knew it—you're the real Seer, except you use your brain to think, not some 'Inner Eye'!"
Sherlock merely shrugged slightly, a barely noticeable smile at the corner of his mouth, as if this was all just a trivial matter.
"Just basic observation and logic, Ron."
He said calmly. "Everything leaves traces. As for Harry—I simply wasn't going to let an overly tense, intoxicated professor create problems."
In the classroom, the sweet fragrance still permeated the air, but the atmosphere had quieted down.
Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, who particularly worshipped Professor Trelawney, sat on cushions very close to her.
"Dear ones, starting this term, we shall be studying the stars."
Professor Trelawney said. "The movements of the planets and the mysterious signs they reveal can only be understood by those who know the dance steps of the celestial dance.
Human destiny can be deciphered through the radiant light of planets, these lights intermingling with each other..."
Soon, Harry's thoughts drifted elsewhere.
Mainly because the fragrant fire always made him feel drowsy.
Professor Trelawney's endless droning about fortune-telling had never truly captivated him.
However, there had been an exception at the end of last term.
She had prophesied that Voldemort would rise again...
When Harry described that scene to Sherlock, Sherlock immediately deduced that Professor Trelawney's hypnotic state hadn't been faked.
Later, when they went to find Professor Dumbledore, they learned an earth-shattering secret from him.
The prophecy that had affected his entire life was also made by Professor Trelawney!
It was because Snape had overheard half the prophecy and told it to Voldemort that his tragic life had been created.
Honestly, even now, he still hadn't figured out how he should face Snape.
"H-Harry, Harry, Harry!"
Just then, Ron suddenly issued a series of urgent warnings.
"What is it?"
Harry looked around and realized the entire class was staring at him.
Obviously, his daydreaming had been noticed.
But this wasn't entirely his fault—the room was so hot he had nearly fallen asleep.
However, glancing at Sherlock and seeing the smile at the corner of his mouth, Harry relaxed and quickly sat up straight.
"My dear, I was just saying that you were obviously born under the baleful influence of Saturn."
Professor Trelawney said, her tone tinged with faint displeasure.
Because Harry's behavior clearly showed he hadn't been paying attention to her lecture.
If she weren't worried about what Sherlock might say, she would already be making death predictions.
However, Harry's next words nearly made her lose her composure: "Sorry, sir, you said I was born under what—?"
"Saturn, my dear, Saturn!"
Professor Trelawney said. Seeing Harry unmoved by this news, her tone grew noticeably more irritated.
"I was just saying that Saturn must have been dominant in the sky at the moment of your birth...
Your dark hair... your slim build...
And the fact you lost your parents while still in swaddling clothes...
I can assert, my dear, that you were born in winter, yes?"
"No," Harry said expressionlessly. "My birthday is in July."
Ron nearly laughed out loud but managed to hold it in.
Professor Trelawney didn't feel embarrassed about her incorrect "assertion" either.
"Something must have interfered with my judgment, but that's not important..."
Half an hour later, Professor Trelawney distributed complex circular charts to everyone, requiring them to fill in the positions of the planets at the time of their birth.
Obviously, this was tedious work requiring many complicated time and angle calculations.
However, for Sherlock this was much simpler—just applying formulas. It was actually more scientific than divination methods with strong subjective elements like tea leaves, palmistry, or crystal balls.
But Harry and Ron weren't so fortunate.
After just a short while, Harry looked at his parchment and frowned. "I've got two Neptunes here. That can't be right, can it?"
Harry was asking Sherlock, but Ron began imitating Professor Trelawney's soft, mysterious tone:
"My dear, when two Neptunes appear in the sky, it surely portends the birth of a bespectacled little man, Harry..."
Seamus and Dean, who were drawing diagrams nearby, couldn't help but laugh out loud when they heard this.
They immediately realized their mistake and quickly covered their mouths.
But they actually didn't need to worry, because their laughter wasn't even enough to cover Lavender Brown's excited shriek—
"Oh, Professor, look!
I've got an unaspected planet! Oh, which one is it, Professor?"
"It is Uranus, my dear."
Professor Trelawney looked down at the chart and said.
It was just ordinary teacher-student dialogue, but Ron made a fatal mistake at this moment.
He said to Lavender Brown: "Can I have a look at Uranus too, Lavender?"
Lavender's face immediately turned as red as an apple.
Harry and the nearby male students all looked at Ron in shock.
Seamus's gaze was filled with even more astonishment.
Good grief, last class I said Dean was making inappropriate jokes, but you're the real old hand here.
"I suspect you're making an inappropriate joke, and I have evidence."
Unfortunately for him, Professor Trelawney happened to hear his words.
Perhaps because of this, she assigned them so much homework before class ended.
"Referring to your respective charts, analyze in detail the planetary movements that will affect you next month."
She said sternly, her voice not like her usual ethereal self but more like Professor McGonagall.
"It must be turned in next Monday, with no excuses for delays!"
"Nasty old bat."
As they merged into the flow of people going downstairs to eat dinner in the hall, Ron said resentfully, "The whole weekend will be ruined by this..."
"It's all your fault though."
Harry said without much sympathy.
Honestly, he hadn't even reacted to what Ron was saying at the time.
It wasn't until he saw Lavender suddenly blush for no apparent reason, and Seamus gave a timely reminder, that he understood.
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