Hogwarts: Proficiency Panel

Chapter 529 530: Omens and Misunderstandings

"Our lesson shall end here for today," Professor McGonagall said, her voice

devoid of its usual warmth.

She swept out of the classroom with a sharp rustle of robes, leaving the

students staring after her in a daze.

"What's got her knickers in a twist?" Ron whispered, leaning toward Sean.

"Class is dismissed," Sean explained simply. He gathered his things and hurried

after her.

Before he even reached the corridor, he heard McGonagall's voice, cold and sharp

as a winter gale:

"Albus, I proposed from the very beginning that you should properly review the

teaching standards of this faculty... instead of allowing a woman who predicts

the death of a student every single year to remain at Hogwarts—even if she is

the great-great-granddaughter of the famed Seer Cassandra Trelawney."

Sean stepped through the heavy elm doors to find Headmaster Dumbledore standing

in the hallway, looking quite calm despite being cornered by a furious

McGonagall.

"Ah, and who is destined for the grave this year?" Dumbledore asked with a

faint, intrigued smile.

McGonagall didn't answer. She simply glared at him, her lips pressed into a

thin, white line.

"The Potter boy?" Dumbledore guessed. He seemed used to these reports. As a

group of nervous first-years hurried past, he offered them a kind, grandfatherly

wink.

"I've guessed wrong... how unusual," Dumbledore noted, turning back to

McGonagall, whose temper looked ready to ignite. "Oh, Minerva, give me one more

chance. Is it... our dear Mr. Green?"

Dumbledore's gaze shifted as he spotted Sean approaching. McGonagall's

expression softened slightly at the sight of him.

Sean felt that familiar sensation—whenever he was around Minerva, he felt like a

small child again, regardless of his magical prowess.

"You have your second lesson to attend, child," McGonagall said, her voice as

level as she could manage. "The Headmaster and I have urgent matters to

discuss."

Sean gave a polite nod and turned to leave. As he walked away, his ears began to

twitch. Fine, tufted hairs sprouted along the edges, and they began to stand

upright.

It was a piece of high-level Transfiguration—shifting a part of his own "self"

toward a "living form." For the next few minutes, he would possess the hearing

of a cat.

"Albus!" McGonagall hissed.

"Green..." Dumbledore murmured, appearing momentarily dazed.

"You must strictly evaluate her teaching! To this day, I have yet to see her

make a single accurate prediction..." McGonagall's voice was full of accusation.

Dumbledore seemed to ignore the critique. He looked at her with a sudden,

startling intensity. "We have a grave problem, Minerva. I need to know—when

Professor Trelawney delivered the prophecy... was she in a trance? Was she truly

seeing?"

"What?" McGonagall blinked, taken aback.

"Come with me, Minerva." Dumbledore began to walk toward the castle gates where

the students were congregating. Slytherin and Gryffindor had Care of Magical

Creatures together this afternoon.

"Are you going to sack her?" McGonagall asked, hurrying to keep up.

"No, quite the opposite, Minerva," Dumbledore said, passing a suit of armor.

"The truth is, Sybill did inherit her grandmother's gift..."

"You know as well as I do, Albus—Sybill Trelawney has predicted the death of a

student every year since she arrived! Not one of them has died!"

"That is true... most of the time," Dumbledore said gravely. "But if Sybill

hadn't proven her talent to me once before, how do you think she gained entry to

this castle in the first place?"

McGonagall opened her mouth to argue, but no words came out. She looked at

Dumbledore with a flash of genuine alarm.

"We are in serious trouble, Minerva..." Dumbledore repeated, offering no further

explanation.

"Divination is the most imprecise branch of magic," McGonagall pressed, her pace

quickening. "True Seers are as rare as—"

"I hope you're right... Good afternoon, Mr. Finnigan. Tell me, child, how did

your first lesson go?" Dumbledore stopped directly in front of Seamus.

"Er—fine, Professor... Headmaster, sir," Seamus stammered, his throat working

convulsively. He didn't know why the Headmaster was asking, but one didn't say

'no' to Albus Dumbledore.

Behind a stained-glass window further down the corridor, Sean followed them,

blending in with a group of passing students. He was now certain that Dumbledore

and McGonagall had misunderstood something. Trelawney had predicted the opening

of Sean's "Inner Eye," but she had given the "Grim" death omen to Harry.

The teachers, seeing the students staring at Sean, had clearly conflated the

two. They thought Sean Green was the one marked for death.

Then, a chilling realization hit Sean. Trelawney did predict the death of a

student every year. And in the original timeline, almost all of those students

had eventually fallen during the Battle of Hogwarts.

The North Tower.

Dumbledore and McGonagall reached the silver ladder leading to the Divination

attic.

"She has made another True Prophecy," Dumbledore whispered.

"Albus—" McGonagall started, her voice full of dread.

"Oh, Minerva..." Dumbledore trailed off, unable to continue.

"He'll be alright... won't he?" McGonagall felt as though the world were

spinning.

"I cannot lie to you, Minerva..." Dumbledore couldn't suppress his own emotion;

a faint glimmer of moisture appeared in the corners of his eyes.

The misunderstanding will clear itself up eventually, Sean thought.

Right now, he had a class to teach. Hagrid had been very specific: Sean needed

to be there early.

"Ron," Hermione said as they reached the castle gates. She was standing directly

in front of Sean. "You heard what Professor McGonagall said?"

"I heard..." Ron muttered. He turned to Harry with a deadly serious expression.

"You haven't seen a great black dog anywhere, have you?"

"I have," Harry said. "We both saw it, remember? At the Leaky Cauldron."

Ron's jaw dropped.

"It was just a dog," Hermione said calmly.

Ron looked at her as if she'd grown a second head. "Hermione, if Harry has seen

a Grim, that's—that's terrible! My Uncle Bilius saw one and—and he dropped dead

twenty-four hours later!"

"Coincidence," Hermione shrugged.

"You don't know what you're talking about!" Ron's temper began to rise. "Most

wizards would be scared out of their wits by a Grim!"

"Exactly," Hermione said in a superior tone. "They see a dog and they die of

fright. The Grim isn't an omen of death; it's the cause of it! Harry is still

here because he isn't thick enough to see a stray dog and think, 'Well, that's

it, I'm a goner!'"

Ron mouthed something silent and offensive at her. Hermione ignored him,

reaching into her bag to pull out her brand-new Arithmancy textbook.

"Divination seems like a total muddle to me," she said, flipping through the

pages. "If you ask me, it's all guesswork."

"There was nothing 'guesswork' about the Grim in that cup!" Ron argued.

"You didn't sound so sure when you told Harry it was a sheep," Hermione noted

coolly.

"Trelawney said you didn't have the right aura! You're just annoyed because you

found something you aren't good at!"

He had hit a nerve. Hermione slammed her book shut with such force that the

nearby students jumped out of the way.

"If 'being good' at Divination means I have to pretend to see death omens in tea

dregs, then I'm not sure I want to be good at it! Compared to Arithmancy, that

class is absolute rubbish!"

She hoisted her bag and marched away, fuming. Ron stared after her.

"What's she on about?" he asked Harry. "She hasn't even had an Arithmancy lesson

yet."

The weather was perfect—clear skies and brilliant sunlight. The grass, still

damp from the morning rain, was lush and springy. Sean descended the slope

toward Hagrid's hut at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

Hagrid was waiting by the door, wearing his massive moleskin coat. Fang, the

boarhound, was at his heels, looking eager for the lesson to begin.

"How d'you feel about it, Sean? Let's lead with Buckbeak. Give 'em a lesson

they'll never forget!" Hagrid rubbed his hands together excitedly.

"I think it's a brilliant idea," Sean said.

"Ah—comin' from you..." Hagrid's eyes brightened.

"You're going to be a great professor, Hagrid," Sean smiled.

Hagrid had more practical experience with creatures than anyone. As long as

Buckbeak didn't take a swing at Malfoy... and as long as Hagrid realized that

thirteen-year-olds weren't as durable as half-giants, things would go well.

"Just remember, Hagrid," Sean added, "be gentle with them."

"Oh, right! I know, I know—you've told me a dozen times. I'll be gentle as a

lamb with the little tykes." Hagrid laughed, his beard twitching. Looking at his

jovial face, Sean suspected the giant hadn't quite grasped the nuance of

"fragile students."

"C'mon now, get a move on!" Hagrid called out as the class approached. "Got a

real treat for you today! Great lesson planned! Everyone here? Good! Follow me!"

Harry felt a prickle of panic as Hagrid led them toward the Forbidden Forest.

He'd had too many near-death experiences in those woods to ever feel truly

comfortable there. He looked back and saw Sean following the group with a book

in his hand. That was enough to steady his nerves.

Fortunately, Hagrid led them around the perimeter of the trees. Five minutes

later, they reached a small paddock. It appeared empty.

"Everyone gather 'round the fence!" Hagrid shouted. "Make sure you can see. Now,

first thing you'll need to do is open your books—"

"How?"

The cold, drawling voice belonged to Draco Malfoy.

"Eh?" Hagrid blinked.

"How do we open the books?" Malfoy repeated. He held up his copy of The Monster

Book of Monsters, which was currently bound tightly with a length of rope.

The rest of the class produced their copies. Some were tied with belts, others

were wedged into narrow bags, and Neville's was held shut with a large binder

clip.

"Hasn't—hasn't anyone been able to open 'em?" Hagrid asked, looking crestfallen.

The class shook their heads in unison.

"Sean, a little help?" Hagrid looked piteously at his assistant.

"Some things appear ferocious, but they only require a bit of affection," Sean

said.

He made a subtle, hooking gesture with his fingers. One of the books drifted out

of a student's hand and into his own. The book snapped its jaws, trying to take

a finger off, but Sean simply stroked his forefinger down its spine. The book

shivered, let out a soft groan, and flopped open, lying peacefully in his palm.

The class stood frozen. Their eyes weren't on the book; they were on Sean's

hands.

"What was that?" someone whispered in awe.

"Wandless magic, you dunderhead," Malfoy sneered.

"I've never seen a student do that at Hogwarts..." someone else muttered.

"That's because no other student at Hogwarts is capable of magic without a

stick," Malfoy said, his chin held high.

Sean glanced at the group. No one was actually practicing the technique; they

were too busy staring at him. He let out a soft sigh.

Surprisingly, Malfoy was the first to successfully stroke his book into

submission. He looked up and gave Sean a quick, seeking glance, like a dog

looking for a pat on the head.

Sean gave him a small nod of approval. The rest of the class finally remembered

the task and began petting their books—though not before one of them managed to

bite a hole through Neville's shoe.

Hagrid looked delighted. He felt his first lesson was already a success.

"Excellent!" Hagrid roared. "Now you've got your books, you need the creatures!

I'll go and get 'em!"

Hagrid disappeared into the trees.

"God, this place has gone to the dogs," Malfoy said loudly. "That oaf teaching

classes? My father will have a fit when he hears about this. Honestly, they

should just let Mr. Green teach the whole course."

The students seemed to agree. No one questioned why a fellow student was an

Assistant; his authority was already established.

"Malfoy!" Harry snapped, torn between agreeing about Sean and defending Hagrid.

"Watch yourself, Potter," Malfoy hissed. "There's a Dementor right behind you—"

☆☆☆

-> SUPPORT ME WITH POWER STONE

-> FOR EVERY 200 PS = BOUNS CHAPTER

☆☆☆

-> 30 Advanced chapters Now Available on Patreon!!

-> https://www.pat-reon.co-m/c/Inkshaper

(Just remove the hyphen (-) to access patreon normally)

If you like this novel please consider leaving a review that's help the story a lot Thank you