"She's nothing but a fraud!"
After the Divination class ended, Cho commented bluntly as they walked down the corridor.
"That's not entirely true. I think she has some skill. Take Eloise's prediction, for example—'beware of wizards whose names contain L,' right?" Marietta countered.
"What do you think, William?"
"I'm not sure," William shrugged.
He avoided giving strong opinions in areas he didn't understand. He knew better than to risk being proven wrong by an expert.
Overall, opinions about Professor Trelawney were sharply divided.
Some believed she was highly skilled, while others thought she was a complete charlatan.
A small group remained undecided, waiting to see if her predictions would come true.
As for Eloise…
She was trembling in fear—not only wary of wizards with L in their names but also terrified of being kidnapped, imprisoned, or tortured.
"Will you attend the next class?" Cho asked.
"No, I'll be going to Arithmancy instead," William replied, shaking his head.
"This course is exactly as Professor McGonagall described—just skimming through the textbook is enough."
William couldn't help but wonder what grade McGonagall had received in Divination.
She likely hadn't mastered the art of creative lying, or she'd have aced the subject effortlessly.
As they chatted, they passed through a corridor and were drawn to a group of second-year students.
Covered in mud, the group was chattering noisily.
Neville's four roommates were struggling to carry him, gasping and stumbling along.
If it were nighttime, the scene might have resembled a chaotic bar crawl rescue, only with muddy schoolboys instead of clubgoers.
Harry, holding one of Neville's legs, spotted Cho beside William and suddenly froze, his demeanor shifting to awkward shyness.
"Hi, William!" Hermione broke away from her roommates and walked over to greet him. "Finished with Divination?"
"Yes, but what happened to your face?" William asked, laughing.
Hermione's face was streaked with mud, making her look like she'd just completed an episode of Bear Grylls: Man vs Wild.
"Mud? Oh, I didn't notice. We just finished Herbology with Professor Sprout," Hermione replied, tilting her face up.
William pulled a tissue from his pocket and gently wiped her cheeks. Then he playfully flicked her forehead before retracting his hand with a smile.
"What's wrong with Neville?"
"His earmuffs slipped, and he heard the Mandrake's cry," Hermione explained.
Mandrake cries were fatal for adults, but in their immature stages, they only caused unconsciousness for a few hours.
Clearly, Neville had been affected.
Not far away, Harry adjusted his pants with one hand and tried to neaten his messy hair with the other, hoping to look somewhat presentable in front of Cho.
If he weren't carrying Neville, he might have dropped him on the spot to strike a more composed pose.
Unfortunately, holding onto a muddy, unconscious Neville wasn't exactly a suave look.
Cho walked closer…
Harry's heart began pounding wildly, ready to burst from his chest. This was just like the dream he'd had so many times.
Was it about to come true?
He lifted his face expectantly, gazing at Cho with hope-filled eyes.
But Cho wasn't looking at Harry. Her attention was entirely on Neville.
With her wand, she carefully pocked Neville to check if he was still alive.
Harry suddenly found himself envious of Neville. What if pretending to faint got him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from Cho?
Seeing Harry's hopeful expression, Ron dutifully used his muddy robe to wipe Harry's face.
Harry shot Ron a glare.
Ron looked bewildered and a little hurt. Just last night, when they'd shared a heart-to-heart whispering section in the dormitory, Harry hadn't acted this way!
Before long, the Gryffindors continued carrying Neville off to see Madam Pomfrey.
Meanwhile, William and the Ravenclaw students headed toward the Transfiguration classroom.
When they arrived, the corridor outside the classroom was packed with students, none of whom dared to enter.
This was highly unusual.
Peering through the doorway, William and Cho saw Professor McGonagall speaking with a short, hunched witch.
It was none other than Griselda Marchbanks!
William immediately recognized her.
They had met at the Merlin Medal ceremony, where Dumbledore had introduced her to expand William's network.
After William mastered Animagus transformation, she had sent him a congratulatory letter and inquired about the details.
Professor McGonagall was speaking respectfully to her. Marchbanks, slightly hard of hearing, stood just a foot away yet responded in a booming voice.
"The trip was fine, my dear, fine! And you're still as lovely as ever."
Addressing McGonagall as "my dear" wasn't out of place.
Marchbanks was even older than Dumbledore.
In fact, when Dumbledore had taken his N.E.W.T.s, Marchbanks had been the examiner for Transfiguration and Charms.
Considering Dumbledore was now over a century old, it wasn't unreasonable to estimate Marchbanks was around 130 or 140.
Wizards often lived far longer than Muggles, even without relying on magical artifacts like the Philosopher's Stone.
"And where is Albus? Is he avoiding me on purpose?" she asked loudly, scanning the room as if expecting Dumbledore to leap out from behind a corner.
Marchbanks clearly held Dumbledore in high regard—perhaps a little too high.
Her eyes lit up when she spotted William at the door. Enthusiastically, she beckoned him over.
Under the curious gazes of all the students, William stepped inside.
"Professor Marchbanks, it's an honor to see you. What brings you here?" William greeted her respectfully.
"Why shouldn't I be here?" she chuckled.
"Are you here on behalf of the Ministry to register my Animagus form?" William asked.
"That's part of it. But I have several other responsibilities today," Marchbanks replied.
"According to Ministry protocol…" She waved her wand, and a parchment scroll floated in midair.
"You're thirteen, correct?"
"Yes."
A quill scribbled notes rapidly.
"You learned Animagus transformation at school?"
"Yes, Professor McGonagall taught me in my second year."
"Incredible!" Marchbanks praised. "Mastering Animagus transformation at your age… you're a prodigy!
"I've only ever used such words to describe Albus. I examined him myself during his N.E.W.T.s.
"At just seventeen, the magic he performed with his wand was unlike anything I'd ever seen. Since then, I've followed his career closely."
Though Marchbanks was much older than Dumbledore, she seemed like a devoted fangirl, unable to resist bringing him up every other sentence.
It was clear why Dumbledore had chosen not to show up—he was deliberately avoiding this overly enthusiastic old admirer.
"Now, child, can you demonstrate your transformation? I need to record your features to confirm you haven't been subjected to a blood curse."
The blood curse was a malicious and complex Dark spell. Victims were permanently trapped in their animal form, unable to return to human shape.
"That traveling circus has been active again, hasn't it?" McGonagall asked worriedly.
"Yes, they've been using blood-cursed wizards in their shows. I suspect they're—" Marchbanks stopped abruptly, unwilling to elaborate in William's presence.
William, feeling puzzled, decided to consult Nicolas later for more information.
Under Marchbanks' expectant gaze, William transformed into a massive sea eagle.
Gasps of awe erupted from the students crowded outside the door.
A round of applause followed from the onlookers.