Chapter 150: Nah, the future is even more confusing!

Monday, September 2nd.

Eda was sitting in the Great Hall having breakfast while the twins were chatting with her about the sales situation of the map from the night before.

Although the upgraded map was selling quite well, the resale of old maps by upperclassmen still had some impact—some students with limited pocket money opted for the cheaper second-hand version.

It was the same situation in the girls' dormitory that Eda was in charge of, which she had already anticipated.

After all, wasn't she using second-hand books herself? She couldn't use force to monopolize the market—that would be too overbearing and would only turn people against her, making her business even harder to run.

After a while, Ron and Harry walked over. Each of them had a map in their hand, but Ron didn't look too happy—he didn't even glance at the twins.

Ron grumbled to Eda, "Eda, last night Fred and George sold me a map, and I was fine with paying the regular price. I just asked if there was a family discount, but they hiked the price right in front of me—one whole Galleon for a single map!"

When it came to overcharging their younger brother, the twins were absolute pros. Their ability to trap Ron financially far outpaced his ability to escape. And just when Ron thought he'd climbed out of one of their pits, another one was already waiting for him.

"But didn't you end up buying it at the regular price?" Fred said. "Business is business, and family is family. We just keep the two separate."

"We can give you pocket money, and we can buy you gifts. But business is business—we can't set that precedent. Once we do, everyone will come looking for special treatment," George explained patiently to his younger brother.

If Ron were a few years older, George wouldn't have bothered explaining things to him at all—he'd just let him figure it out himself.

Ron thought about it and realized that the twins did have a point, but he was still a bit upset. Last night, in front of his new roommates, his older brothers had embarrassed him, and he was still angry about it.

"Want to know how to shock your roommates?" Eda put down her vegetable soup and asked, "Want to leave them with an unforgettable impression?"

Ron nodded frantically—he really wanted to do that. He wanted to boost his presence. It wasn't just him; even the twins and Harry were curious about Eda's idea.

"Tonight when you go back, prepare a long, sturdy rope," Eda said as she picked up her soup bowl again. Honestly, the vegetable soup wasn't bad at all.

"And then?" Fred snatched Eda's soup bowl and pressed her.

"And then, in the middle of the night, hang yourself at the dormitory door. When your roommates wake up tomorrow, it'll definitely leave them stunned for the entire year!"

Professor McGonagall happened to be handing out schedules nearby and overheard Eda's wild proposal. She calmly said, "Miss Twist, if you hang yourself at the dormitory door tonight, you can skip our meeting on Wednesday."

Eda sniffed and didn't catch any scent of Polyjuice Potion on Professor McGonagall. So why did her tone sound so familiar? It reminded her uncomfortably of the old bat in the dungeon classroom.

"And also, if I find out you've gone to the corridor on the right side of the fourth floor of the castle, you might as well go ahead and hang yourself at the entrance to the Gryffindor common room!" Professor McGonagall flashed her kind but terrifying smile.

Eda took the schedule with both hands and quickly assured Professor McGonagall that she would absolutely not go, that she'd follow all the rules this school year and definitely wouldn't drag Gryffindor down in the House Cup race.

Only then did McGonagall let her off the hook.

One glance at the schedule, and Eda promptly threw McGonagall's warning out of her mind—this year's course load was totaly fucked up!

On Mondays, she had Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts, with Divination in the second afternoon period; Tuesday was Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures, and History of Magic; Wednesday brought Transfiguration and Charms; Thursday featured Defense Against the Dark Arts and Ancient Runes; and Friday was Transfiguration and Potions.

Friday once again lived up to its black reputation, featuring the two strictest professors. Talk about misfortune never coming alone.

The morning Charms class was as steady as ever. Professor Flitwick was a seasoned veteran, totally reliable. He started off by reviewing last year's material with the class before moving into new content.

The composed and skillful Professor Flitwick stood in stark contrast to Quirrell, the professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts that afternoon—Flitwick outclassed him to the point of obliteration.

Quirrell was truly a disgrace to Ravenclaw. That someone like him could graduate from Hogwarts made Eda seriously question the quality of education at the school.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts class was a mess—not only because the professor stammered, but also because he couldn't even cast spells properly.

Worse still, at the slightest noise or movement in the classroom, Quirrell would jump in fright. His weak and helpless demeanor made people break into a cold sweat, worried he might literally be scared to death by something as simple as a fart.

The third-year Gryffindors, led by the twins, started a betting pool—guessing when Quirrell would be fired by Dumbledore.

That's right, they weren't guessing when the Defense Against the Dark Arts curse would get him, but rather how long Dumbledore's patience would last.

The first option was one month, and that had the most bets placed on it, which said a lot about how disliked Quirrell was.

Eda suddenly began to question her previous assumptions—could Quirrell really be up to anything sinister with that level of ability?

He probably couldn't even beat a first-year.

Despite being a young adult, Eda always got the feeling he was a feeble old man on the verge of collapse. 

To say that might even be insulting to the elderly, because every professor at the school who was older than Quirrell looked much healthier than he did.

But if all of this was just an act… then things made sense. Maybe he was trying to lull Dumbledore into thinking he was harmless.

Still, his acting skills had improved so dramatically that it was shocking. Did he enroll in some kind of last-minute acting bootcamp over the summer?

At last, the nerve-wracking Defense Against the Dark Arts class was over, and Eda was seriously starting to miss Glover Cecil... ehm..

Sure, he was shady, but at least he taught real skills—unlike Quirrell, who was barely worth a handful of knockoff Galleons.

After class, Eda and the twins still couldn't catch a break—they had to rush straight to the North Tower. Divination was held at the very top of the tower, which made students hate the subject before they'd even taken a single class. Climbing all those stairs was exhausting.

Step by step, they ascended the winding spiral staircase, their ears assaulted by a noisy knight in a painting. By the time Eda reached the top platform, her least favorite professor had officially changed to one she hadn't even met yet: Trelawney.

The Divination classroom didn't look like a classroom at all—it resembled an old-fashioned tea shop. Inside were twenty small round tables, and shelves lined the walls holding a variety of golden stands, each supporting a crystal ball that gleamed like glowing lanterns.

Hogwarts' very own sky-high spinning drink bar, right at the top of the North Tower—complete with a scenic overlook of the school grounds. Proprietor: Professor Trelawney, who offers free divination services to customers. Don't wait—book your spot by owl today!

"What's that smell in here?" Fred asked. "It's kinda weird."

Eda sniffed the air and replied, "Sherry… and some other kinds of liquor. The rest I can't really tell."

Other students were whispering too, all discussing how bizarre the classroom felt—and how the professor herself had yet to appear. Then, from the shadows, a soft and mumbled voice emerged.

"Welcome," the voice said. "It is so wonderful to finally meet you in the material world."

Professor Trelawney emerged into the firelight, draped in strings of glass beads.

She wore an uncountable number of necklaces and chains around her neck, and her arms and fingers were covered in bangles and rings. She looked more like a fortune-telling charlatan than a proper professor.

The students took their seats on armchairs or floor cushions.

Naturally, Eda sat with the twins at one of the small tables. The three of them exchanged looks full of regret—they all agreed Trelawney seemed just as unreliable as Quirrell.

At the front of the room, Trelawney launched into a grand speech about her "inner eye" and extraordinary insight, managing to simultaneously hype herself up while dampening whatever enthusiasm the students had left for Divination.

Just like the title of the textbook, Unfogging the Future, many students had chosen this class to actually learn Divination—to uncover clues about the future—not to watch a glowing insect show off.

Trelawney began outlining her plans for the school year, predicting a few trivial matters.

Then came the highlight of the class—she divined a terrifying result:

"In May, one among us will leave forever."

Before attending the class, some gullible students had already inquired about it.

The feedback they received was unanimous—Trelawney was just there to eat and drink for free.

They also learned of one of her quirks: every year at the start of term, she would predict the death of a student.

At last, the infamous "death chapter" had arrived, and the students who had been dozing off suddenly perked up. Everyone wanted to know who the lucky one would be—the chosen subject of Trelawney's grim prediction.

It was all increasingly reminiscent of a charlatan's tricks, no different from the fortune-tellers found in town squares.

As the saying goes: "Palm-reader S.P reads your photo, and bad luck lands you at the fortune stall." Wherever you go, they start off by throwing you a calamity or disaster to scare you into submission. Once they've got you rattled, your money slips from your pocket to theirs—and you even leave saying "thank you, sir, that was so accurate!"

Of course, true masters of the craft do exist in the world—but those elusive, dragon-like seers who reveal only glimpses of themselves are incredibly rare. For example, Trelawney's ancestor—Cassandra Trelawney—you certainly wouldn't catch her squatting by the roadside in Diagon Alley, offering crystal-ball readings.

The Hogwarts teaching staff was truly a mixed bag, which made one deeply concerned for the school's future.

The "Future Headmistress of Hogwarts" was feeling more sorrowful than if she were visiting a grave—she had already begun thinking about how to restructure the faculty when the time came for her to take over.

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