The Black Bloodline of Hogwarts

The third year at Gewarts begins with choices.

On Monday morning, Julien stood in front of his elective course schedule, twirling his silver linden wand between his fingers with a skill no less impressive than his pen-twirling prowess in his previous life.

The area was crowded with chattering young wizards, each anxious about choosing their elective courses—as if it would determine whether they would become Minister of Magic or a fireworks vendor on the street.

“Ancient Ravenclaws,” Edgar Finch pushed up his glasses and solemnly drew a checkmark on the parchment, “are the Ravenclaw tradition, the cornerstone of wisdom.”

"I'll choose this one too," Kayson Moretti said, unusually serious. "I heard that this year's Runeven Professor is no longer Professor Binns, but his assistant, Yuna Olafsdottir. She's a stunning beauty from Sweden!"

"Be serious," Kayson was flicked on the head by Qiu Zhang, a senior student who came over, and then she turned to Julien.

"Julien, I simply can't believe you actually chose that crazy Professor Trelawney's divination class? You, a Muggle, actually believe in such unfounded things?"

"We Muggle people even have Gypsy girls who specialize in fortune telling," Julien replied.

"Really? Are they pretty?" Kayson's interest was piqued again. "Maybe I should choose the divination class instead."

Qiu Zhang glanced at him and continued, "It's said that she predicts the death of one or two junior wizards every year, but it's never come true."

"That's probably why the exam for this course is easy to pass," Julien replied nonchalantly, a slight smile playing on his lips. "I heard from senior student Cedric that you can pass the exam by writing that someone else has bad luck. Professor Trelawney loves reading that."

"Hmph, birds of a feather!" Senior Sister Qiu Zhang blushed slightly and walked away, grumbling.

The real reason Julien didn't say was that in Grindelwald's tower, in the midnight lessons connected by the keys to those rose doors, he had learned ancient symbols ten times more profound than those in his third-grade runic textbook.

"I choose divination," Julien wrote his decision on the parchment, "and the Magical Creatures Protection Class."

"Are you really sure?" Kayson lowered his voice. "Professor Trelawney is quite—"

"Quite an interesting subject to observe," Yu said, taking over the conversation, folding up the course selection form and stuffing it into her pocket. "Don't worry, I just want to see the world from a different perspective."

He had another unmentioned reason: deep within the Library of Magical Resonance, a book titled "The Alchemical Nature of Prophecy: A Probabilistic Analysis from the Formation of Tea Leaves to Divination" was being generated.

There may be some connection between Trelawney's vague prophetic abilities and Grindelwald's precise calculations that he has not yet come to understand.

And connection often means power.

---

The divination class was held in the north tower. Climbing the stairs was a challenge.

Unlike the other staircases at Hogwarts, which move regularly, this one spirals upwards in a dizzying way, as if to completely strip the climber of their sense of direction.

Julien followed behind Harry and Ron, listening to Ron complain that he had eaten too much breakfast and now felt like throwing up. Julien couldn't help but take a step back.

"I heard Professor Trelawney's classroom is like a teahouse," Harry tried to lighten the mood, "with silk and crystal balls everywhere."

"I heard her two glasses are like two crystal balls," Ron muttered, "round and always emitting an eerie light."

The classroom door was a trapdoor, leading to a space that seemed to be submerged in purple silk.

The curtains were purple, the tablecloth was purple, and even the air was filled with a purple scent that seemed to be a mixture of lavender and aged tea.

The small round tables scattered throughout the spacious classroom did indeed resemble a tea room.

Each table was set with a tea set—not the standard white porcelain of the Ministry of Magic, but antiques with cracks and chips, as if salvaged from some bankrupt noble estate.

Julien chose a window seat, which allowed him to observe the entire classroom and also enable him to evacuate quickly if necessary—the dangerous Hogwarts.

His gaze swept over the other students:

Harry and Ron were huddled around a table, fiddling with a teapot and a gaiwan.

Hannah of Hufflepuff and Neville of Gryffindor were sitting together, using the tip of their canes to lift the curtains and let in the light;

Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass of Slytherin sat in the corner, covering their noses with silk handkerchiefs as if the aroma of tea filling the room were some kind of poison.

Crabbe and Goyle, who were in the front row, had already finished the snacks on their desks. Their eyes darted around as if they were looking for something on the other students' desks.

The underachievers were basically all gathered together.

"Welcome," a voice drifted from the shadows, seemingly from a great distance, "Welcome...to finally...to meet you in the material world..."

Sybil Trelawney "emerged" from behind a curtain—I use that word because she really did seem to be pushed out by some kind of stage mechanism.

She was so thin she was almost sickly, wrapped in layers of shawls and scarves, each embroidered with different astrological symbols.

Her glasses weren't spherical, but they were ridiculously large, making her watery eyes appear several times larger, giving the illusion of being watched by some deep-sea creature.

"I am Sybil Trelawney—your professor of divination." Her voice rose and fell, sometimes near, sometimes far, as if reciting some ancient verse.

"My great-great-grandmother was Cassandra Trelawney, the great prophet, whose prophecies were never... never misunderstood."

Julien noticed the subtle pause when she said "never misunderstood." An interesting phrasing—not "never made a mistake," but "never been misunderstood." This left a perfect escape route for any future mishaps.

“Divination,” Professor Trelawney continued, tracing intricate lines in the air with her hands, “is the noblest branch of magic. It is not incantations, not potions, but a dialogue with the universe itself. Here, we will learn to read tea leaves, decipher crystal balls, and listen to the whispers of the stars…”

Julien discovered that professors in each discipline would assign some value to their courses before they started.

"Alright. Now, our first lesson is to use tea leaves to predict good and bad fortune."

"What are you waiting for? Everyone, make yourselves a cup of tea, then pour out the water. We just need to observe the shape of the tea leaves at the bottom of the cup."

"Mr. Crabbe, I'll reiterate, this tea isn't for you! Are you expecting me to examine the shape of the tea leaves on your tongue?"

"After completing the above steps, the two little wizards at the table exchanged teacups, observed the shape of the tea leaves in each other's teacups, and then compared the results with the book."

Sitting next to Julien was Susan Burns of Hufflepuff, the little girl who always carried a golden toad—Cassian's informant at the Ministry of Magic.

She had come with Hannah, but somehow Hannah sat down next to Neville. Susan had no choice but to sit down next to Julien, who was alone.

"Let me see Julien's teacup." Susan picked up Julien's cup with interest. "Hmm, let me see. Oh dear, what can you possibly see in this mess?"

"Then take a look at the book," Julien said with a smile, picking up Susan's teacup as well.

The tea dregs were scattered haphazardly at the bottom of the cup, completely shapeless. If one had to force an analogy, one could only say they resembled nameless wildflowers commonly found on school playgrounds. Students called them "afternoon flowers" because they only bloom from afternoon to evening.