Professor Trelawney continued to circle around Wentworth, her eyes shining with unusual intensity, even visible through her thick spectacles.
“Oh my, dream divination in the flesh! I never thought I’d witness someone perform dream divination right before my eyes.”
“It’s astounding that a first-year student could exhibit such talent on their very first class with me. He’s practically a natural-born seer!”
“Maybe he has a seer in his ancestry? It’s a possibility, you know!”
The students gazed at Professor Trelawney in utter shock, engaging in hushed discussions.
Suddenly, an idea seemed to strike Professor Trelawney, and she rushed over to the lectern.
She returned with a small jar in her hand, which she brought over to Wentworth’s side.
“Merlin’s beard, such an exceptional talent. Allow me to assist you!”
Professor Trelawney dipped her hand into the small jar, scooping up a dust-like substance with her fingernail.
She gently blew it towards Wentworth.
“Professor Trelawney, what are you doing?” a curious student asked.
“Oh, it’s just bone powder,” Professor Trelawney answered nonchalantly.
However, as soon as she finished speaking, several students rushed out of the classroom, their faces pale, while others were visibly nauseous.
Seeing this reaction, Professor Trelawney seemed to want to clarify the situation and quickly explained, “Don’t misunderstand! I haven’t been grave-robbing. These are simply ground bones of my great-great-grandmother.”
After Professor Trelawney’s explanation, nearly all the students covered their mouths. They made a hasty exit, leaving behind a slightly exasperated Professor Trelawney muttering, “My great-great-grandmother was indeed a true seer!”
Amidst the chaos outside, Wentworth slept soundly.
In his dreams, he was initially having pleasant visions.
Cassandra dressed as a witch, holding a leather whip, a mischievous grin playing on her lips as she approached him… (10,000 words omitted)
Suddenly, Wentworth’s dream world trembled, the scene before him shifting.
Smoke enveloped everything, obscuring his view except for a distant beam of light.
Moving toward the light, Wentworth’s gaze landed on a middle-aged man seated in a chair, bound.
Several individuals surrounded the man, bombarding him with questions.
Wentworth’s immediate response was to flee. However, just as he began to retreat, he seemed to hear a name – Thomas Vole!
His heart skipped a beat. Thomas Vole? Could this be Cassandra’s father?
Driven by curiosity, Wentworth turned back to watch, only for the scene to change once again.
Cassandra, who had briefly crossed his mind, was now restrained nearby.
A large hand held her captive, preventing her escape.
The owner of the hand was concealed in darkness, making it impossible to discern their identity.
A sudden touch on his shoulder jolted him as Wentworth attempted to draw closer for a clearer view.
His hair stood on end, and his blood ran cold.
Slowly, Wentworth turned to find a bespectacled man with tousled hair and an assortment of peculiar necklaces.
This man wore an eerie smile as he gazed at Wentworth.
Acting on instinct, Wentworth threw a punch before leaping up, screaming.
To his astonishment, he realized he could clearly perceive his surroundings.
Surveying his environment, Wentworth’s recognition dawned, he had seen this place recently.
A moan of pain reached his ears.
Turning his attention to the source, he witnessed the woman who had startled him earlier.
She sat on the ground, clutching her eyes.
“Wentworth, are you awake?”
A voice sounded from behind him.
Startled once more, Wentworth found several familiar Hufflepuff freshmen standing there, their faces ashen with fear.
Had it not been daylight, he might have screamed in terror.
Gradually, Wentworth’s awareness returned.
It had been a dream he had just experienced. Breathing a sigh of relief, he realized he was safe.
“Professor Trelawney, what’s wrong?” a fellow Hufflepuff beside Wentworth inquired.
Spotting Professor Trelawney sitting on the floor, she hurried over to help.
Despite Professor Trelawney’s eccentricities, she was still a Hogwarts professor.
She cut him off as Wentworth stood before Professor Trelawney, ready to apologize. “Don’t say anything yet. Let me ask you, were you engaged in dream divination just now?”
With his gaze fixed on Professor Trelawney, Wentworth struggled to comprehend her question.
“I fell asleep and had a dream, Professor Trelawney. I apologize for sleeping in class,” Wentworth began, ready to promise better behavior in the future.
Professor Trelawney waved him off, saying, “Dreams are often hazy upon waking. Can you recall every detail of a dream? If you remember it vividly, then it’s not just a dream – it’s a prophetic dream.”
As Wentworth’s memory was jogged, he realized he did remember his dream with unusual clarity.
Intrigued, he challenged Professor Trelawney, “I won’t believe a dream can be a prophecy until you
tell me when this prophecy will come true.”
But Professor Trelawney gazed at him with an enigmatic smile, asserting, “Certain matters may be escaped momentarily, but they cannot be evaded forever.”
Examining the mysterious Professor Trelawney, Wentworth muttered, “Professor Trelawney, perhaps you need new glasses.”
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