Good fortune tonight, dinner is chicken. Unfortunately, Allen had no idea what dinner would actually be, and before the divination slip was drawn, he had assumed that, given his usual restraint toward divination teachers, he might at least get a "Great Luck" result. But the moment the wooden slip fell from the box, he realized he didn't recognize a single character…
What the hell is this!
Debates usually happen between people who understand each other, but this teacher's shameless audacity was beyond his imagination. The characters weren't even Japanese, they were completely alien. A seller's market indeed!
With zero information, encountering a truly "guiding" divination teacher meant the only thing he could do was pay a tuition fee, his wallet and pride hanging in the balance.
The moment the teacher tried to explain the slip, sweat beads suddenly appeared on Allen's forehead, spreading rapidly.
Drip… drip…
Tiny droplets, the size of soybeans, plopped onto the table as Allen's cheeks turned pale.
"Eh?, Ah?"
The sudden situation startled the prepared shrine maiden. She hastily cast a few healing spells at Allen, but they had no effect. His face remained ghostly pale, sweat pouring down relentlessly.
Other students panicked, not understanding what was happening. Especially those visiting for the first time, they assumed this was some kind of punishment from the shrine maiden. After all, Allen hadn't shown much respect toward the deity earlier.
Using an offering box for divination was unfamiliar to most students. They suspected it might even be a curse, if strong-willed Allen could be affected, then this spell must be potent indeed.
Unintentionally, the shrine maiden gained a wave of awe, though not exactly the kind she wanted.
After a final, failed attempt to use his own coins, Allen's roommates helped him out of the classroom to seek medical help. Meanwhile, he refused the professor's assistance, claiming he could manage with just his roommates. The shrine maiden, though concerned, watched him leave, but students around noticed her expression as if she had lost a fortune.
Once outside, Allen pulled out his water bottle, gulping it down in huge swigs. One bottle vanished in moments, and he casually conjured a plant stem to nibble on.
"Eh? Allen, are you okay?"
"Of course," Allen shrugged. "Though if I'd stayed any longer, maybe not." He wiped the sweat from his face with a flick of magic.
"Wait… she's a professor! How could she casually attack a student?"
"Weren't you suddenly sick just now? Did the professor curse you?"
"Nope. I just pretended." Allen popped a salted plum into his mouth, needing to replenish the salt he had lost.
His roommates were in unanimous disgust. Marshall clutched his hair in frustration:
"No, Allen, you have no idea what you missed! That professor is young but insanely skilled! You know how hard it is to get into her class? Mahoutokoro restricts lower years from taking divination for a reason! People actually wish to offer sacrifices just to receive her blessings!
And her divinations… are abilities no one has ever seen before! You just wasted an amazing opportunity, Merlin, punish the sinner in front of you!"
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Indeed, in such a short time, she had gathered a wealth of information.
Allen, however, strongly suspected that she specifically targeted lucky people to scam them, though he wouldn't say it aloud. She wasn't a scammer; she was genuinely skilled. He could refuse to buy her services, but insulting her would have been excessive.
He hoped Marshall would make an offering and perhaps receive blessings, the woman's talismans were real. If Allen had a system and more money, he'd already be waving a bag of Galleons, shouting "Buy! Buy! Buy!"
So, Allen waved his hand and strode toward the camp:
"I'm skipping the doctor, I'll just nap at the camp. If anyone asks, tell the professor that the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher healed me!"
The other two exchanged glances and decided rest was better than class.
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By noon, the three had refreshed themselves, trying not to look like they'd just woken from a nap, yawning as they headed toward the dining hall.
Surprisingly, Hufflepuff was lethargic. A few muttered greetings to Allen's group were weak at best.
Really? Just one nap, and this bad?
Another young wizard, rinsing his mouth with water, explained:
Earlier, Hufflepuff had eaten some herbs. The professor guaranteed they weren't cursed and briefly explained her divination technique. The group accepted this explanation.
But today, another Hufflepuff student got sick.
He connected it with the morning's herbs, maybe some pollen caused the illness. After vomiting in the bathroom, he told the others, and the chain of events followed naturally.
Seeing the concerned, exhausted faces around the table, Allen and his companions exchanged a glance.
Unspoken. Not a word. Under any threat, we won't say!!!
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100 Power Stones = Bonus Chapter
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