[Chapter Size: 1800 Words.]
---------------------------------------
Hogwarts offers Divination classes, but they are elective subjects after the third year.
Harry knew a little about it, but not much. In his limited understanding, being a Seer was a profession that required great talent. Most Seers demonstrated their abilities from a very young age.
Harry felt that he, too, possessed this talent.
The story begins half an hour earlier.
Professor Flitwick had just finished explaining everything there was to know about the Levitation Charm when Seamus caused one of those explosions that Gryffindor, and all the first-year students, had grown accustomed to.
In response, Professor Flitwick handed him a leaf from a flame tree, a leaf that wasn't particularly afraid of fire.
After that, the other young witches and wizards began practicing.
Harry already had a strong grasp of the Levitation Charm, so he didn't focus on it. Instead, he silently opened his magical senses, wanting to take a closer look at Professor Flitwick.
He had considered observing the professor's magic for some time but had never dared to do so, fearing he might be caught. Today, he decided to take the risk because, among all the professors, Flitwick was the easiest to talk to. If he were discovered, he figured it would be easier to get away with it.
However, the moment Harry quietly activated his magical senses and the magic around him became tangible, he nearly fell off his chair.
The reason was simple: Professor Flitwick's magical power was blindingly brilliant.
His body wasn't enveloped in a thin white mist, as Harry had expected, but in a platinum-colored flame that flickered and pulsed like a living fire. It stretched about ten meters in every direction, nearly filling the entire classroom.
The golden figure between his brows wasn't stationary but floated behind him. It was the size of an adult, far taller than the diminutive Professor Flitwick.
Like a golden sculpture, it loomed behind the professor.
Whether it was the platinum-colored magical flames or the manifestation of his pure golden spiritual power, both radiated an overwhelming yellow light. The moment Harry saw it, his vision was swallowed by a vast white glow, so intense that he could barely keep his eyes open.
At the same time, a wave of dizziness washed over him, forcing him to instinctively shut down his magical perception.
Beside him, Susan turned to him with concern. "Harry, are you alright?"
Harry quickly waved his hand dismissively, signaling that he was fine while sneaking glances at Professor Flitwick.
Fortunately, the professor seemed unaware of anything unusual and was busy correcting small mistakes in Hannah Abbott's wand movements.
At that moment, from an angle Harry wasn't paying much attention to, Ron and Hermione were having a minor conflict.
Ron's spellwork was inconsistent, sometimes effective, sometimes not. He also struggled with proper wand movements and pronunciation, making it unsurprising that he failed to cast the charm successfully.
If someone could resist complaining after watching their desk partner make so many mistakes, they certainly wouldn't be Hermione Granger.
And so, the already tense relationship between the two finally snapped.
From the start of the lesson, Harry had a strong feeling that something would happen between Ron and Hermione, and sure enough, it did.
"I just can't take it anymore! What on earth does Hermione think she's doing? Doesn't she realize that because of her behavior, she hasn't made a single friend since the start of the school year?"
Ron fumed as they left the classroom, venting to Harry.
As he spoke, he couldn't help but wave his arms animatedly. "Look at her! She's like that in the library, the common room, the classroom, it's just, just ridiculous!"
In truth, Harry also found Hermione's often overbearing attitude frustrating at times. But since his own grades were strong, she couldn't push him around too easily, so he didn't feel as strongly about it as Ron did.
Just as he was about to respond, someone brushed against his arm, rushing past them.
Without a doubt, it was Hermione.
For a brief moment as she passed, Harry caught a glimpse of her face. Her eyes were red, and tears seemed to be forming.
"She... heard us?"
Talking behind someone's back and then having them overhear it, Harry felt deeply embarrassed, even though he hadn't been the one speaking.
"Well... so what?" Ron's voice wavered slightly, betraying a hint of unease, but he still insisted stubbornly, "She should've realized it by now. I'm not wrong."
Harry opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but for a moment, he didn't know where to begin.
At first, he thought it was just a small matter. Back in primary school, disagreements and arguments among classmates were common, nothing unusual at all.
But that afternoon, something happened that left Harry unsettled.
Hermione didn't show up for the afternoon classes.
Most of the time, the professors didn't pay too much attention to attendance. If a student occasionally missed a lesson, it was generally overlooked.
In fact, plenty of students skipped classes. Unless it was a lesson taught by their own Head of House, they usually wouldn't attend if they weren't feeling well or had something else to do.
Harry himself had already missed two History of Magic lessons and one Herbology class in just two months.
And yet, somehow, this felt different.
If this had happened to Hermione, it would have been completely different. From the start of the school year until now, she had never missed a single class, not even when she had a mild illness or a fever.
But this was more than that.
Not only had Hermione skipped her afternoon classes, but Harry hadn't seen her all afternoon. Even when he went to the library to borrow books for his homework, she wasn't there. And Hermione was always in the library, even on weekends.
Did she go back to the dormitory? Harry wondered.
By the time the Halloween Feast began that evening and everyone gathered in the Great Hall, Harry still hadn't seen Hermione.
But then, by chance, he overheard Parvati and her roommate Lavender talking. They said that Hermione had been crying in the girls' bathroom in the dungeon, crying bitterly and refusing to let anyone comfort her.
Harry heard it. And so did Ron, who was with him.
Harry could tell that Ron's expression was oddly stiff, his body shifting uncomfortably.
Yet the moment they stepped into the Great Hall and took in the magnificent decorations, their attention was quickly diverted.
Hundreds of bats fluttered along the walls and ceiling, while others swirled overhead like low, dark clouds, making the candlelight flicker inside the floating jack-o'-lanterns.
Meals at Hogwarts were always abundant, but compared to the feasts, there was a noticeable difference in both variety and quantity.
Harry had already thought the Start-of-Term Feast was the most lavish meal he had ever seen.
Now, he and Ron each had handfuls of different foods, grinning as they ate. Harry was eating so quickly that he nearly choked and had to gulp down a large mouthful of pumpkin juice to clear his throat.
Meanwhile, the goblin band Dumbledore had invited played an upbeat tune on the podium.
Professor Flitwick, perhaps in high spirits or for some other reason, had conjured a tall stool, stood on it, and was using his wand as a conductor's baton, leading the band.
Just as Percy had said, goblins were highly skilled musicians, and the music was wonderful.
At the height of the joyful atmosphere, the Great Hall doors burst open from the outside, immediately drawing everyone's attention, even the band stopped playing.
All heads turned toward the entrance as Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, rushing toward the podium. He was shouting as he ran:
"Troll! Troll! There's a troll in the dungeon! You…"
Mid-sentence, he seemed to trip on his own robes, pitched forward onto the floor, and collapsed in a dead faint.
For a brief second, the entire hall was silent.
Then, chaos erupted.
The younger students, especially the first-years, screamed in panic.
Even the Gryffindors, known for their courage, were visibly unsettled.
Harry's face paled. He had read about trolls while flipping through The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection.
By wizarding standards, trolls were three-star magical creatures. Not particularly aggressive, but still dangerous to most wizards.
A troll was a gigantic humanoid creature, standing over five meters tall in adulthood. Those exceeding six meters were classified as Mountain Trolls.
The largest recorded specimen measured over seven meters and was given the honorary title of Overlord.
Ordinary trolls couldn't use magic, but rare mutant trolls were capable of casting vibrational magic, though such cases were extremely rare.
Regardless of type, all trolls had high physical and magical resistance. Their massive bodies and naturally petrified skin gave them exceptional durability against spells, and their sheer brute strength made them one of the most troublesome low-to-mid-level magical creatures for wizards to handle.
Harry vividly recalled the textbook's advice on dealing with trolls:
"Unless there are at least two or three fully grown wizards present, or you possess powerful piercing magic, your best option when facing a troll is to, run."
Trolls were incredibly slow, meaning that even an average wizard could escape if they acted quickly enough.
These thoughts flashed through Harry's mind in an instant.
But before he could process them further, a brilliant firework suddenly exploded above the Great Hall, and a loud voice resounded through the entire room.
"Silence!"
It was Dumbledore's voice.
Strangely, just hearing that voice made the panicked students immediately settle down. It was as if the sound itself carried a calming magic.
"No!" Harry's eyes widened. It is magic.
He had been meditating since he was six or seven years old, and while he had no clear idea of how strong his own mental power was, he was highly sensitive to any form of mental magic.
He could clearly feel the gentle ripple of spiritual energy in Dumbledore's voice, an effect that soothed the heart and mind.
Yes. Dumbledore's voice contained mental magic, or something very close to it.
"Magic can be used like this?"
Harry stared at Dumbledore, his eyes filled with longing, a deep hunger for great and wondrous magic.
"Prefects, please escort your housemates back to their common rooms immediately."
Dumbledore's steady voice reassured the students even further, especially those from wizarding families.
Yes. Dumbledore was here.
He was the greatest wizard of the century, the most powerful in Britain, perhaps even in all of Europe.
A mere troll was nothing before him.
The prefects quickly began organizing their houses, and Percy Weasley, among them, seemed to be the most composed.
It was as if he had rehearsed this exact scenario in his mind countless times, everything unfolding precisely as he had imagined.
******
Don't miss other works: Naruto: Sasuke's return
Support me and be 60 chapters ahead of webnovel:
patreon.com/DylanBriak