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Hogwarts School Headmaster's Office:
"I must say, Minerva, you've been a tremendous help!"
Dumbledore, sporting a vivid purple yarn ring tangled in his beard, tossed down his quill. "I always try to avoid our Divination professor, but I never expected her to guess I'd appear in the kitchens today for those house-elf confections. Those sweets are absolutely delightful..."
Watching the headmaster's conversation drift off-topic, Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow with a stern expression, knowing full well he was about to dump all the work on her.
She bowed her head and earnestly began drafting the job posting for a new Divination professor.
Both of them, as Transfiguration teachers who pursued precise results in their daily work, truly couldn't understand or care much about Divination...
Most of the staff were completely baffled by the sudden resignation of the Gypsy Divination professor. After all, in times like these, Hogwarts under Dumbledore was the safest and best position for a witch who enjoyed spending holidays reading fortunes for Muggles in the Muggle world.
And that cryptic statement she'd made—"The moon tells me that beneath the Wheel of Fortune, the Tower will meet Death"—left everyone puzzled. No matter who asked, the Gypsy Divination professor would only lay out four tarot cards:
The Moon - unease
Wheel of Fortune - cycles
The Tower - destruction
Death - ending
"Don't let your guard down. Only by preparing in advance will there be a turning point later. What's coming is a crisis of conflict and destruction, and when the results arrive, a new journey will inevitably begin."
Only the Arithmancy professor returned from his visit deeply troubled, using his own methods to divine again but failing to reach a sufficiently clear answer.
When leaving the attic she'd inhabited for over a decade, the Divination professor sighed and left her treasured crystal ball to Dumbledore. Without saying anything more, she cast a meaningful backward glance at Hogwarts, packed up her long-unused carriage, and whistled to summon the Thestral she'd originally brought with her.
Patting the Thestral's sharp, angular back, she fitted it with a bridle and left Hogwarts without looking back.
Since she'd first embarked on the path of Divination, she'd made no progress whatsoever—guarding two crystal balls without even disturbing the mists of the future. Now that her traveling tarot cards had given their indication, she had no reason to stay.
Her sister's crystal ball she'd given to that straightforward child, while her mother's crystal ball she left with the headmaster who'd originally decided to hire her.
"I hope you can all see your own futures. Farewell, magic—take flight, Scarlet!"
She left in such haste that Dumbledore could only try to recruit a Divination professor as quickly as possible—otherwise the children's final exams couldn't proceed.
But when Professor Slughorn learned of this, he began cornering Dumbledore everywhere, demanding to resign.
"I've been bringing this up for years! I'm getting old, and I want to enjoy my retirement!"
Dumbledore looked awkwardly at the lavatory door, earnestly begging Slughorn to discuss this matter later. "After all, I think now isn't very convenient, and I rather need to be convenient myself, don't I?"
Slughorn still wouldn't give up, but Dumbledore waved his wand and 'invited' him out.
That very afternoon, Slughorn's application was approved—with the condition that after the job posting went out, he'd need to wait for his successor to arrive for the handover before he could leave.
So suddenly, Hogwarts—whose teaching staff had been remarkably stable—found itself needing to recruit three professors, and news spread throughout most of the wizarding world.
Divination Professor, Potions Professor, and Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor.
McGonagall once again sat in the headmaster's office, revising the announcements.
As for Dumbledore, he truly had other matters to handle—such as some minor friction among the Order of the Phoenix's recent new members.
The debate over Lupin's werewolf identity had been ongoing within the Order for quite some time without reaching a conclusion. Dumbledore was rather troubled—after all, prejudice, discrimination, and reality would always confront everyone, and everyone was waiting for the final result.
The outcome was that Lupin gave up his public work and completely disappeared from everyone's sight. He began operating in dangerous black and gray areas, taking on intelligence work and covert investigations.
This was almost the most dangerous work possible, but because of Lupin's identity, he didn't receive the respect he deserved—even though Dumbledore had once seriously stated that regardless of identity or past, anyone genuinely working toward the future deserved their respect.
But a werewolf... Even when some tried to treat him equally, those subtle gestures made sensitive people even more aware.
Since then, Lupin rarely attended gatherings or meetings.
This made James Potter and his friend Sirius Black extremely dissatisfied with some members who'd previously expressed doubts.
They'd actually tried to keep Lupin out of covert operations—after Lupin had brought back so much information!
They didn't trust Lupin! Someone far braver than any of them!
This led to major problems with arrangements to intercept Death Eater attacks on Muggles when Dumbledore wasn't present at the meeting.
Major problems...
If not for that strange Death Eater, Benjy Fenwick, Moody, and two other Order members wouldn't be sitting here today.
It was that same strange Death Eater who suddenly intervened, preventing Sirius Black from nearly killing his own younger brother due to faulty intelligence!
The battle three days ago had been complete chaos.
In the end, even the Death Eaters themselves developed internal divisions, thinking the Order had deliberately thrown out bait to lure them in. Little did they know, if they'd pursued just a bit further, the Order would have lost one-fifth of its key members.
And all of this stemmed from disharmony within the Order of the Phoenix.
"Lily... Am I really that terrible?" However, Lily Evans's silence made him grip his no-longer-quite-so-messy hair tightly.
"You'll keep getting better, won't you? And this isn't just your fault—prejudice is a terrible thing." Under the gentle female voice, James Potter hung his head, finally tasting the bitterness that youthful arrogance brought.
He'd betrayed Dumbledore's trust, letting his preferences and emotions affect more important matters. If the Death Eaters hadn't had their own internal problems, he would have regretted it for the rest of his life.
Tidying his hair to look more presentable, he put on a smile. "All right, Lily, stop looking at those files. Our little Harry is still in your belly—you need to rest on time when you're this tired."
Hearing this, Lily Evans, who hadn't looked up at her husband directly, touched her rounded belly and cooperatively returned to the bedroom. "What are you standing there for? Aren't you going to keep me company while I sleep?" The somewhat dejected James perked up at these words and cheerfully dove into the bedroom.
But Dumbledore, their next-door neighbor, couldn't enjoy his own rest tonight. He needed to finish all his paperwork, as he had to visit a patient tomorrow morning.
He was going to visit last year's Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, who'd been sent to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries for preventing a Slytherin student and a Ravenclaw from experimenting with dangerous magic. The professor had been hospitalized for most of the year, but those persistent injuries still hadn't healed.
Dumbledore sat in the waiting area, waiting for the professor's attending healer to take him into the isolation ward.
Lost in thought, he saw a tall, slender figure emerge from the public fireplace, looking around before approaching the information desk. "Excuse me, which floor should I go to if I want to have my brain examined?"
"May I ask what aspect you'd like examined? Do you think it's probably a disease or some magical reaction?" The witch at the information desk was plump and very kind.
"It's just that I always make stupid..."
But before she could get an answer, the information desk witch had to interrupt their conversation. Some young wizard covered in Bubotuber pus came screaming out, and before the information witch who rushed out could handle it, the unfortunate child's parent came chasing after, also covered head-to-face with Bubotuber pus, laughing "Ha ha ha ha."
The information desk witch sighed and sat back down, her smile now forced.
"Ma'am, please continue. I'll recommend the most suitable department for you."
"Well, how should I put it? I think there's something wrong with my brain—I always make stupid decisions and actions, and within three or four years I've nearly gotten myself killed several times... I mean, nearly died. The problem is that whether before or after, I roughly anticipate such outcomes."
"Oh, that sounds a bit complicated, but the general symptoms are somewhat arrogant, thinking you can handle everything so you're always on the brink of death, is that right?"
Seeing the other person nod with some confusion, the information desk witch frowned. "In that case, you might need to visit two departments—one is the Potions and Toxicology Testing Department, and the other is the Spell Residue and Damage Department. I hope these two departments can help you. Third floor, turn left, fourth office—the healer is already waiting for you inside."
Dumbledore had found this person's symptom description quite interesting, and when she turned around, he took a closer look.
It was actually one of his former students—Lys Black.
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