It can be understood.
After all, as a Prophet.
The Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts would certainly be concerned about this kind of matter. For the little wizards, there's nothing to complain about; after all, this class was an experience class gained by reducing the time of the Defense Against the Dark Arts class. The students weren't given extra classes, and they get to experience something novel, so why wouldn't they be satisfied?
Interestingly, Ian didn't see Ririm in this class, as if Ririm only wanted to attend a second-year Magic Potion class.
"I think your grandfather just wants to slack off, teaching one less class every month while getting paid the same." Ian felt he had seen through Grindelwald's true intentions.
Aurora remained non-committal about this.
The two of them walked together to the North Tower where the Divination class was located, waiting on a platform. Ever since she arrived at Hogwarts, Professor Sybil Trelawney had been living in this place.
There were no staircases nearby.
This was because the door to the Divination classroom was on the ceiling of the platform. Just as many little wizards, filled with anticipation for the novel class, were looking around trying to find a door to enter.
"Clatter~"
A ladder descended from the ceiling. Ian was the first to climb up, followed closely by Aurora, after which the other little wizards, who had just come to their senses, quickly followed suit.
The ladder's steps, aged as they were, appeared somewhat shaky, emitting a slight creaking sound with each step, as if reminding the climbers of the precariousness of the place.
It was all a sign.
A sign in the context of Divination.
But it seemed no one noticed, not even Aurora, this natural-born Prophet.
Ian entered the classroom.
First, he caught a whiff of a strong incense smell, a blend of sandalwood and herbal scents that instantly made one feel as if they were inside an ancient Divination Master's shrine. It was an eccentric-looking classroom, more like a fusion of a tea house and a residence rather than a conventional teaching room.
The light in the classroom appeared dim and soft, with deep red curtains nearly completely blocking the windows. Only a few weak beams of light managed to slip through the gaps in the curtains, forming flickering halos that added a dreamy atmosphere to the room, indeed lending it an air of mystery.
Of course.
This was how others saw it.
In Ian's eyes.
He felt this place resembled those illicit establishments hidden in alleyways, turning on pink lights promptly at night, where many lost souls linger endlessly.
"Is this the Divination classroom?"
"I seem to smell the scent of fate! What a mysterious place!"
"I must study this subject diligently. If I can calculate the winning lottery numbers in the Muggle World, then I can reverse my parents into becoming rich second generations!"
...
The little wizards were chattering animatedly.
The center of the classroom was laid out with many round, low tables, each topped with a crystal ball. Many little wizards approached, eager to touch but hesitant.
At this moment.
"Oh, another batch of little wizards struggling within fate." A distant yet husky voice suddenly sounded, and a tall, slender woman emerged from the curtains.
"It's truly marvelous to see you in the tangible world." She wore glasses, and her deep brown hair, with a few strands of graying brown, appeared unkempt like windblown straw draped over her shoulders, adding a touch of carelessness to her demeanor.
Years of living in a sunless environment had given this professor's skin an unhealthy pallor, her face was gaunt, with prominent cheekbones seemingly indicating a lack of nourishment.
"Let me see, let me see, see your future, see your...end." Professor Sybil Trelawney's eyes, obscured by oversized round glasses with lenses thick like bottle bottoms and golden frames inscribed with intricate star charts, scrutinized the little wizards present.
"Oh, not good, not very good."
"You too, be careful of those around you."
"Children, listen carefully, the ominous shadow is quietly spreading through the hallways of Hogwarts..." Professor Sybil Trelawney first frightened a few little wizards with her cryptic words.
Then.
Her gaze settled on Ian.
"Hmm?"
Professor Sybil Trelawney was initially startled and then suddenly her entire body convulsed as if struck by a seizure, startling everyone immersed in the prophetic atmosphere.
"What's wrong with this professor?"
"Is she having a fit?"
"Why is she shaking like my mom when she's secretly playing with toys in the dormitory?"
...
Sybil Trelawney waved her hands erratically in the air, muttering incomprehensibly. The little wizards stared at her in fear, unsure of what was happening.
"Is she feeling it?"
Ian was somewhat surprised, glancing at the thoughtful Aurora beside him, then at the professor who had been convulsing for quite a while; he seemed to remember this professor having such a special ability.
Indeed.
As the tremors in Sybil Trelawney's body ceased, her entire demeanor instantly transformed. Her previously hazy gaze became extraordinarily lucid and brilliant.
"Please, save us, save..."
Her voice was hoarse and filled with despair.
"My lord."
With a sobbing tone, she reached out to Ian.