Chapter 124: Your Divination Is Truly Accurate
Chapter 124: Your Divination Is Truly Accurate
The students in the Great Hall were still bustling, but Hermione and Ron exchanged glances when they heard Harry's words.
"We tested it, didn't we? The professor's Jinxed Mouth isn't always effective. If something is highly probable, it..."
"No", Harry interrupted Hermione, then recounted the incident on the French road to them.
"At the time, I really thought Professor Forrest's Jinxed Mouth had disappeared. Then on my birthday, he wished me a happy birthday, and that night, while I was on my way to the Ministry of Magic, I hit my head twice. The first time I saw a Dementor, I passed out. When I woke up, I saw a horse's face, and the last Auror accidentally spilled Chocolate on my head."
Harry shuddered as he recalled that terrifying day.
"The next morning, the professor gave me a belated birthday dinner and even wanted to sing 'Happy Birthday' to me! Luckily, I stopped him, or you might not be seeing me today."
Ron and Hermione mourned for Harry in silence while pondering the issue he had just raised.
"You mean that on that road, you told the professor about his Jinxed Mouth, and you experimented together, but it didn't work?"
Hermione repeated Harry's account, as if she were doubting something.
Harry nodded. "Yes, and I did it twice! Instead of things going the opposite way as Professor Forrest predicted, they went exactly as he said."
Even now, Harry found it hard to believe what had happened.
"At the time, an owl was flying in the sky, barely visible. Professor Forrest said, 'I have a feeling it's looking for us,' and then the owl suddenly changed direction and flew toward us!"
Ron looked excited, almost eager to suggest something.
"Maybe you triggered some condition that caused Professor Forrest's Jinxed Mouth to reverse and turn into a wishing cup?"
Hermione looked thoughtful.
"That's a real possibility. I think the key might be that Harry told Professor Forrest the truth, which caused his Jinxed Mouth to change."
Hermione looked up at Harry and Ron, who were also looking at each other.
They stared at each other for a long time before Hermione spoke hesitantly.
"Or, have you thought about... doing another test?"
Sherlock didn't know how the students in the Great Hall were reacting, nor did he know what Harry and his friends were up to.
At that moment, he and Silke were walking out of Hogwarts' gates, heading toward Hogsmeade.
Silke showed no intention of explaining the situation, so Sherlock had to ask.
"What did you see?"
Silke's response was as brief as ever, barely a sentence.
"Traces."
Sherlock's mind automatically expanded on her words: "The traces of the killer."
Divination is a mysterious ability. Wizards with this talent can see glimpses of the future and uncover secrets that are usually hidden from ordinary people.
So when they see clues, it's often without any logical explanation. They just know, and there's no reason behind it.
There was no further conversation between them as they walked down the main street of Hogsmeade. Aurors were still patrolling, but not as densely as before. The Wizarding World needed to maintain normal operations, and Scrimgeour couldn't keep all his personnel in Hogsmeade. Some had to be reassigned to handle routine investigations.
The Wizarding town was starting to see some pedestrians again. The laid-back nature of Westerners made it hard for them to accept prolonged restrictions. With no further incidents in two days, they had resumed their daily routines.
Silke led Sherlock to the very edge of Hogsmeade, and instead of taking him to the scene of the previous attack, they left the village and headed to a small hill on the outskirts.
This location was not far from the most famous haunted house in the Wizarding World—the Shrieking Shack. From the hill, the dilapidated roof of the shack was clearly visible.
The hill provided a panoramic view of the entire Hogsmeade, but the area was empty, with no buildings or dense trees. Sherlock didn't understand why Silke had brought him here.
Just as he was about to ask, Silke suddenly crouched down, as if she had found something on the ground.
Sherlock turned his gaze toward her and saw her reach out to pick up a withered straw from the ground.
"It's been here."
Silke said softly.
The straw in her hand looked ordinary, the kind you might find anywhere along the roadside, easy to pick up.
But Sherlock wasn't deceived by its appearance, and Silke didn't seem like someone who would joke around.
"Is this something from it?"
"It's something from its host."
The distinction between "it" and "its host" made Sherlock understand one thing.
That thing likely had no physical form of its own and could inhabit and control any object.
Silke stood up and looked down at the town of Hogsmeade, as if mimicking the movements of the killer here.
"It's looking for something", she muttered to herself.
"But it's not in the town."
She lifted her head and looked farther, to the majestic castle nestled among the mountains.
"It saw Hogwarts and confirmed that what it's looking for is here."
"The seven people it devoured were just for sustenance."
"It didn't spread fear to make itself stronger."
"It came here just to find that thing."
Sherlock frowned as he listened to her entire deduction, as if he were reliving that night.
Under the sky, shrouded in darkness, it came to this hill after feasting in Hogsmeade, silently gazing at the town below. When it didn't find what it was looking for, it turned its gaze to Hogwarts Castle, its hollow eyes revealing a rare glimmer of desire.
He squinted and looked at the distant Hogwarts Castle.
"Will it eat more souls?"
"Can't see", Silke shook her head lightly.
Sherlock turned to her, his expression grave.
"We must prevent it from committing any crimes at Hogwarts. If that happens, even once, the Ministry of Magic will lock down the entire school, making things much more complicated."
After hearing his words, Silke turned to look behind her.
Hogsmeade, being a wizard town, naturally didn't cultivate large-scale crops. Behind the hill was just a barren field.
"We can search other places."
Sherlock understood her meaning.
"Since it left a straw here, it might have left traces elsewhere."
As he said this, he looked up at the sky, which had been overcast since the start of the school year, feeling somewhat relieved.
"Fortunately, it only rained once. We might still find something."
As he spoke, Silke was walking down the hill toward the barren field, but she suddenly stopped in her tracks when Sherlock finished speaking.
"What did you say?"
This was the first time she had spoken to Sherlock with such a tone, no longer calm and cool, but tinged with disbelief.
Sherlock was a bit puzzled by her reaction and shrugged.
"I said we might still find something."
"Your previous sentence!"
Sherlock looked a bit confused.
"Fortunately, it only rained once? Haven't you been in your room all these days? It only rained on the first day of school."
Silke stood there, her eyes hidden under her hood and ribbon, looking at Sherlock with an extremely strange gaze, making him feel very uncomfortable.
"Why are you looking at me like that? What's going on?"
"No need to search."
She took a deep breath and turned to walk back toward Hogsmeade.
Sherlock followed her, looking bewildered.
"Why not search? We might find some clues."
Silke stopped again. The future she could see was changing again. Initially, although shrouded in mist, she could gradually see some fixed images by peeling back the layers.
But every time Sherlock made a prediction, those fixed images suddenly turned into crumpled paper in a trash bin, altered into a chaotic mess that could only be thrown away.
She realized the problem lay with Sherlock's mouth. She stared at him silently, making him feel uneasy.
"Stop talking from now on."
Sherlock didn't understand what she meant but somehow felt a sense of personal insult.
"What do you mean?"
"It's going to rain, and we won't find any clues. Let's go back to the town."
"You saw that?"
He asked, surprised. Before he could finish, a few raindrops began to fall from the sky, and it looked like a heavy rain was about to start.
Silke didn't answer his question but pulled out her wand and cast the umbrella charm, holding up an umbrella for herself.
Sherlock also used the spell in amazement, holding up his own umbrella.
The rain quickly grew heavier, the drops making a dull sound as they hit the umbrella.
They retraced their steps, and Sherlock remarked,
"Your divination is really accurate. You said it would rain, and it did."
Silke didn't respond, her knuckles turning slightly white from gripping the umbrella handle too tightly.
It wasn't that she wanted to be silent, but her habit of using concise language made it difficult for her to express her frustration at his lack of awareness.
(End of Chapter)
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