Throughout the entire morning, no one could focus on classes.
In Herbology, Anthony nearly squeezed a Bubotuber pod until it burst.
During History of Magic, no one listened to Professor Binns' sleep-inducing lecture—but surprisingly, no one fell asleep either. The classroom was full of flying notes and paper planes.
Only Ancient Runes remained as difficult as ever. It was as if that professor hadn't received the announcement about the tournament—anyone who didn't pay attention was assigned double-length essays as punishment.
Wade turned back time to attend Divination class, which turned out to be a total disaster.
Midway through class, just as Professor Trelawney had them gazing into crystal balls to divine the future, she suddenly burst into tears without any warning.
She clutched her scarf tightly, buried her face in it, and let out sharp, wailing sobs as her frail body shook violently.
"Professor, are you alright?" asked Gryffindor's Lavender Brown, cautiously.
Trelawney cried for quite a while before finally blowing her nose and rasping out in a grief-stricken voice, "I saw it… I saw the sinner's fate…"
She rolled her eyes dramatically and began speaking in a trembling, unnatural tone: "Ludo Bagman… his fortune will vanish like flowing sand…he will face cruel retribution for his lies… everything he cherishes will turn to nothing!"
From the bitterness in her voice, Wade immediately knew this wasn't a real prophecy. But the students in the room were clearly spooked— even the most skeptical ones were frozen in place.
"Ludo Bagman…" Harry swallowed and looked at Ron. "Wasn't he… the announcer at the World Cup?"
Ron nodded solemnly. "Also a colleague of my dad's."
"P-Professor?" asked Parvati—Padma's older sister—in a respectful whisper. "Was that… a prophecy?"
"Yes… yes…" Trelawney sobbed, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. "It's just… so tragic… he died such a terrible death…"
The classroom immediately broke into hushed murmurs.
"But I swear I saw him in the paper this morning," someone said nervously. "If Ludo Bagman died horribly, it'd be in the news… right?"
"Idiot, it's a prophecy!" another student said with conviction. "Professor Trelawney saw the future with her Inner Eye!"
Professor Trelawney appeared to be overwhelmed with emotion, crying so hard she couldn't speak. The rest of the class, unsurprisingly, couldn't continue.
By the time the sensitive and eccentric professor finally calmed down, the bell rang. Trelawney hoarsely announced the end of class.
"I never knew Professor Trelawney was so close to Mr. Bagman," a student commented as they left. "The way she cried, you'd think her lover was about to die."
"What do you know? She's just incredibly kind-hearted!" Lavender defended her favorite professor loudly. "Even if it had been someone else, Professor Trelawney would've felt just as sad seeing their death!"
—Really?
Wade turned around just in time to see Professor Trelawney wiping her tears and muttering under her breath. Judging by the shape of her lips, what she was really saying was: "That liar… may he die and leave no corpse to bury…"
Wade: "…"
Poor Professor Trelawney… Did she get swindled by Bagman with Leprechaun gold betting on the Quidditch World Cup?
Wade shook his head, feeling both amused and sympathetic. Just as he was about to leave the classroom, his steps suddenly halted when he spotted the large crystal ball placed nearby.
He recalled the fake prophecy he had casually made during last term's final exam.
—Wait a minute… could this mess somehow be my fault too?
But after a moment's thought, he reasoned that, first of all, his "prophecy" wasn't actually wrong, and second, he had never encouraged Professor Trelawney to gamble.
So, the real culprit was obviously Bagman for being a fraud, and next was the greedy Professor Trelawney. What did it have to do with the innocent student Wade Grey?
Suppressing that strange, hard-to-explain feeling in his chest, Wade walked out of the classroom.
…
By evening, the bells rang, and students threw on their cloaks and streamed out of the castle. The Heads of Houses and Prefects quickly began organizing everyone into lines and making last-minute adjustments to their appearance.
Professor Flitwick stood atop the high steps, scanning his students with a critical eye.
"Mr. White, your hairstyle looks like you've just been in a brawl—why not tidy it up a bit?"
"I know you're very studious, Miss Jones, but now's not the time to be reading. Let me send that book where it belongs."
With a flick of his wand—and an exasperated squeal from the girl—the book flew straight back to the Ravenclaw common room.
"Keep up appearances, children. Be polite. But of course—" Flitwick added cheerfully, "—there's no need to be too modest. After all, Hogwarts is the best!"
The students chuckled softly, proud and happy. But the mood shifted instantly when Professor McGonagall shot Flitwick a sharp look—he immediately straightened up, all business.
By the time the students were lined up in front of the castle, night had already fallen. The moon hung high in the sky, and the air had grown cold.
"They're almost here," Michael muttered. "Who do you think will arrive first?"
Just as he finished speaking, a bright red triple-decker bus suddenly appeared out of thin air, roaring across the surface of the Black Lake and kicking up towering waves behind it.
With a swift drift and a loud screech of brakes, the bus came to a halt at the castle gates. The neon sign above the windshield flashed: "Ilvermorny Express Bus."
The doors opened, and a lean, sharp-eyed wizard in dark crimson robes stepped out calmly. His eyes were keen and penetrating.
But in the blink of an eye, his face broke into a warm smile: "It's been too long, dear Albus! How have you been?"
"It's wonderful to see you, Agilbert," Dumbledore replied, embracing him briefly. "Welcome to Hogwarts, to you and your students."
As they spoke, a group of students descended from the bus. They wore red-and-blue uniforms and looked pale and queasy—some even gagged, clearly battered by the ride.
"Looks like we're the first ones here," Agilbert said brightly, glancing around. "Excellent. I knew our bus was faster."
"It certainly is," Dumbledore nodded, and Harry glanced at the students with sympathy.
Wade studied them too, his eyes lingering briefly on one of the boys before lifting his gaze skyward.
A massive carriage was soaring through the air above the Forbidden Forest, headed straight for the castle. Twelve silver-maned winged horses pulled it with their coats glistening under the moonlight.
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