"Ron! Harry! Look what you've done!
Since I started primary school at six years old, this is the first time I've ever received a comment like this.
If anyone else finds out, they'll laugh at me!"
Inside Hagrid's hut, Hermione was practically furious.
She paced back and forth anxiously, glaring at the words "Fail" written on the parchment as if she wanted to swallow them whole.
Harry looked at the girl with her hair completely disheveled and swallowed nervously.
"No one will laugh at you, Hermione. Everyone knows you're brilliant."
"But my assignment failed! Because it's suspected of plagiarism!"
Hermione was not comforted at all.
"It's my fault. I shouldn't have softened and lent you my homework. And I definitely shouldn't have believed you when you said you were just going to 'use it as reference'!"
"Oh, Hermione," Ron muttered quietly. "I don't think it's your fault. And it's not really ours either. I think Hickman just targeted us."
His reasoning was rather unusual.
"Think about it. We've handed in other assignments like this before, but only Hickman rejected ours."
Ron thought about it more and more, convincing himself.
"I knew he didn't like me! I could tell since last semester!"
"That's because you did something wrong first!" Hermione glared at him.
She pulled a table closer and prepared to redo the assignment that afternoon. Harry and Ron reluctantly did the same, taking out fresh parchment and quills.
Ten minutes passed.
Ron stared at the blank page with no idea where to start.
"Hermione... if we're rewriting the assignment, what dark creature are you going to write about?"
"Think of it yourself!"
Hermione moved her parchment away immediately.
"Give up. From now on I will absolutely, absolutely, absolutely never lend you my homework again!"
"Hmph! Fine, don't lend it!"
Ron felt hurt by her tone and snorted unhappily.
He chewed the end of his quill.
"You know... I'm really jealous of Neville. He got to delay returning to school. Maybe he doesn't even have to hand in homework.
Do you think he pretended to be sick because he didn't finish his assignment?"
"He's not like you!"
Hermione rolled her eyes.
But when she thought about Neville's empty seat, worry crept into her expression.
"I wonder what happened to him. I hope it's not serious."
"I heard it's something to do with his memory," Ron said. "But Headmaster Dumbledore went to see him today, so it should be fine soon."
Hermione looked surprised.
"How do you know that?"
Harry also turned to him curiously.
Ron grinned.
"I heard it from the portraits. Some of them travel between Hogwarts and St. Mungo's. If you ask them nicely, they'll gossip about everything."
"I see... I hope Neville recovers soon."
Hearing Dumbledore's name reassured both Hermione and Harry.
Just then—
"Woof! Woof!"
Happy barking came from outside.
"Stop messing around, Fang!"
Hagrid pushed open the door, carrying an empty bucket, with the big black dog trotting beside him.
"Hey! Good afternoon. What are you talking about?"
"We were talking about Neville and Professor Hickman," Ron replied.
"Ah—Professor Hickman!"
Hagrid's expression suddenly became awkward.
He tilted his head back uncomfortably.
"What's wrong, Hagrid?" Harry asked in confusion. "You look strange whenever you hear Professor Hickman's name."
"Well..."
Hagrid hesitated for a long time.
Finally, he said almost the same thing Ron had earlier.
"I think... Professor Hickman might not like me."
"Ha!" Ron immediately jumped up. "I knew it! He's just like Snape, always judging people unfairly!"
"Oh, Ron, stop it," Hermione said, defending the professor.
Harry asked curiously, "Why do you think that, Hagrid?"
Hagrid rubbed his eyes with his thick fingers. "He didn't give me a Christmas present. All the other professors did. Just not me."
Ah...
That was indeed rather sad.
Harry remembered how it felt living at his aunt and uncle's house. "I'm sure it's just because he doesn't know you very well yet."
"Right! That must be it!"
Hagrid quickly convinced himself.
"We're just not familiar yet. He definitely doesn't hate me!"
His mood brightened immediately.
He walked to the corner of the room and picked up a bucket filled with some mysterious mush.
"Alright, you three stay here and play. I need to feed the little darlings in the Forbidden Forest. And I still haven't finished the task Dumbledore gave me."
"Dumbledore?" Harry caught the important detail. "What did he ask you to do?"
Hagrid almost answered.
Then he quickly covered his mouth.
"That's a secret. I can't say. You'll find out next week."
He hurried toward the door, afraid he might accidentally reveal too much like last time.
"Don't worry. It's a good thing. I think you'll like it."
Bang.
The wooden door closed.
Ron and Harry exchanged excited looks.
"Harry, that's a secret! Hagrid is hiding something from us. It must be important!"
He licked his lips, imagining how impressive it would be to learn the secret first and brag about it later.
"Let's follow him!"
"Sorry, gentlemen."
Hermione pointed at their still blank parchments. "But if I remember correctly, the rewritten homework is due tomorrow morning."
Ron slumped instantly.
He chewed his quill until the tip split.
Finally, he decided to rewrite the essay by modifying the original copied version.
Unfortunately, Ron found it extremely difficult to sit quietly and work.
Before long, he became restless again.
He rummaged through his robes and pulled out a small wooden tube filled with sticks.
"Harry, want to try drawing one?"
Harry looked up from his homework.
Seeing Ron's eager expression, he reached in and pulled out a stick.
"You are currently at a low point in life. But do not give up. One day you will emerge stronger."
"That's really accurate," Harry sighed.
"I've definitely had bad luck lately."
It wasn't just the homework.
He was still upset about the invisibility cloak that had suddenly disappeared.
It was the only thing his parents had left him. And he had failed to protect it. Every time he thought about it, he couldn't help sighing.
Hermione noticed them and looked up.
"What's that?"
Ron didn't answer. He was still annoyed with her.
Harry explained instead.
"It's a fortune-drawing game that's become popular today. Apparently it's a kind of divination from the East. People say it's very accurate."
"Divination?"
Hermione immediately became interested.
"Where did you get it?"
Ron shrugged.
"Professor Trelawney mentioned it in class yesterday. After the third-years spread it around, a lot of people made their own versions."
He pushed the tube toward her.
"Want to try?"
Hermione hesitated.
Then curiosity won.
She pulled out a stick.
"Don't put too much pressure on yourself. Perhaps you should accept that you might not actually be exceptional."
Not exceptional?
Hermione puffed her cheeks angrily.
"How did such a childish thing become popular?!"
Trends among young witches and wizards changed as quickly as the weather.
In just one day, the castle was filled with the sound of shaking fortune sticks.
When Dawn returned to his office after class, he placed a wooden tube full of sticks on his desk.
He had confiscated it from the Weasley twins earlier that day.
During class, they had drawn a fortune that said: "Move forward bravely and you will receive an unexpected surprise."
Encouraged by this message, they immediately threw a dungbomb at a nearby group of Slytherin students.
It happened so suddenly that even Dawn hadn't reacted in time.
He had nearly been engulfed by the spreading yellow-green gas.
Several students fainted from the smell.
In short, the entire lesson had been ruined because of that ridiculous fortune stick.
Although it wasn't entirely a bad thing, Dawn still deducted fifty points from each twin.
He also contacted Professor McGonagall and confiscated all their prank items.
Then he assigned them detention with Snape.
Judging from the twins' tearful expressions, Dawn believed they were very pleased with the surprise.
"What on earth are these children thinking?"
Dawn sniffed his collar.
Even though there was no smell, he still complained while conveniently ignoring his own age.
He sat down at the desk.
Looking at the confiscated tube of fortune sticks, he suddenly felt an urge to try it himself.
He pulled out one.
"Your romantic life may suffer setbacks recently. Perhaps patience and tolerance are the best ways to deal with difficulties."
Boring.
Dawn tossed the stick back.
However, after calming down, he suddenly thought of something else.
He had once used divination to obtain clues about the world correction.
Now that his investigation had reached a dead end, perhaps he could try divination again.
Once the idea appeared, he immediately acted.
He recalled the special patterns Trelawney used.
Maintaining the outward appearance, he modified the outer layers to temporarily grant himself the talent for divination.
Then he looked around for something he could use.
In the end, he picked up the tube again and began shaking it.
If he entered a divination state, even drawing lots might produce a meaningful result.
Clatter.
Clatter.
As the sticks collided inside the tube, Dawn gradually emptied his mind.
He tried to grasp that faint, intangible inspiration.
Suddenly—
Clack.
One stick flew out of the tube.
It rolled across the desk and stopped with the writing facing upward.
"You will soon encounter a crisis. But if you go with the flow, you will gain something unexpected."
Dawn frowned slowly.
At first he had only been trying this casually. But the message made him uneasy.
A crisis?
What kind of crisis could he possibly encounter?
___________
Upto 20 chapters ahead on patreon :-
patreon.com/BloodAncestor