Chapter 224. Thestrals
Harry handed the timetable back to Hermione and asked curiously, "How are you going to attend three classes at the same time?"
Ron, who was beside them, leaned over and noticed the oddity on Hermione's timetable as well.
Chewing a sausage, he mumbled around his mouthful, "Mm, ten classes in a day—brilliant, Hermione. Does your day have forty-eight hours?"
"None of your business."
At Ron's sarcasm, Hermione shot him a glare and tucked the timetable into her robe pocket. "I've got it sorted. Professor McGonagall has arranged everything."
Seeing that Hermione didn't want to say more, Harry didn't press the matter.
He thought that even if Hermione skipped class, her marks wouldn't suffer on the strength of her self-study alone.
Ron, on the other hand, kept dogging Hermione with questions, determined to wring an answer out of her.
In the end, Hermione firmly stuffed a sausage into Ron's mouth, and the little commotion came to a temporary end.
Soon, nine o'clock came.
The three of them went punctually to Professor Sybill Trelawney's Divination lesson.
On the way, Ron quipped to Hermione, "So you're following us to Divination? What about Muggle Studies and Arithmancy—are the other two Hermione Grangers going to those?"
"Don't worry about it, Ron," Hermione said, slightly cross.
"Oh. Fine."
Ron decided not to push his luck.
In fact, he had guessed right. With the help of a Time-Turner, there really were three Hermiones in lessons at the same time.
However, the Time-Turner was confidential. By regulation, Hermione could not let anyone else know of the device's existence.
After Divination, the three of them walked down the corridor grumbling.
The class was nothing like they had imagined—not only was the professor awfully theatrical, the content made no sense.
Harry really couldn't see the point of studying tea leaves—especially when the tea tasted foul.
"I'm starting to regret choosing that class. It'll waste a lot of my energy," Hermione sighed. "Harry, what prophecy did Professor Trelawney just make for you? I didn't listen carefully."
"She said I would die a horrible death," Harry shrugged. "And that I'd encounter an ill omen—a black dog."
"Do you think she's right?" Ron asked offhandedly, plainly not taking the prophecy seriously.
After all, Professor Trelawney looked unreliable to begin with.
"I think she's mad," Harry said, shaking his head, a little regretful. "I'd asked Professor Adrian Wesson before, and he didn't recommend Divination. Looks like he was right."
Hermione nodded in agreement.
Harry didn't believe a word of what Trelawney had told him.
He had never seen any black dog anywhere.
In the wizarding world, ordinary dogs were rare, and black dogs rarer still.
Witches and wizards preferred useful pets like owls and toads.
In the afternoon, it was the first Care of Magical Creatures lesson of the term.
On a clearing not far from the Forbidden Forest, Adrian Wesson led a dozen or so Thestrals to stand before the students.
He had brought yesterday's Thestrals back for an extra shift, using them as the content of the third-years' first lesson.
"All right, these are the magical creatures we're studying today," he said, pointing at a patch of empty air.
The students looked at one another, bafflement plain in each other's eyes.
Only students who had witnessed death could see Thestrals.
Aside from a scattered few, most of the class couldn't see anything at all.
Harry, of course, could.
He recognised these peculiar creatures; it was they who had drawn the carriages that had brought him to school the day before.
"These are Thestrals, a breed of winged horse," Wesson addressed the class. "Here's our first question of the term—who can tell me some common breeds of winged horse?"
Hermione's hand shot up at once.
"Well… Hermione," Wesson called helplessly.
In truth, he wasn't eager for Hermione to answer; she took far more points from his hand than any other student.
Unfortunately, no one but Hermione seemed to know this point.
That was normal enough; the answer to this question didn't appear in the textbook.
Hermione stood at once and replied, "Aethonan, Abraxan, Granian, and Thestral. A notable trait of winged horses is that they all have wings and the ability to fly."
"Oh, very good," Wesson said, clapping, satisfied. "Five points to Gryffindor."
Hermione lifted her chin at once.
Being awarded points felt as marvellous as ever.
But Wesson, sharp-eyed, noticed something off about Hermione—there was a hint of fatigue in her gaze.
"Professor!"
A voice suddenly rose from the crowd: "We can't see anything."
Wesson smiled in the direction of the voice; it was Draco Malfoy who had spoken.
"Don't worry, Mr Malfoy." Wesson looked around at the class. "Can any of you see the Thestrals?"
Harry, Neville, and a thin Slytherin student raised their hands.
Wesson nodded and explained to the group, "You must have witnessed a person's death—only those who have seen death can perceive a Thestral's form."
Neville shuddered at that, looking frightened—whether at the Thestrals before them or at Wesson's words, it was hard to tell.
"Then how are we supposed to study them?" Draco pressed. "Er… I mean, we can't see them, can we? Are we meant to find a way to witness death?"
"Of course not. Death is a very weighty thing."
Wesson smiled, then tossed out a small object. "I've prepared a realistic statue so you can learn what a Thestral truly looks like."
No sooner had he finished speaking than the object swelled rapidly and became a lifelike Thestral—a dragon-like head, bat-like wings, black from head to hoof, so gaunt there was hardly any flesh, its very bone structure clearly visible.
Unfortunately, the Thestral produced by Transfiguration could only stand there foolishly. Flying was out of the question—so was taking a few steps.
Honestly, Thestrals looked rather grim and frightening, especially to students like these.
"I don't want anyone to fear them just because of their fearsome appearance," Wesson said, stroking the Thestral beside him. "They're actually very gentle creatures, and loyal. They can tell friend from foe."
The Thestral at his side obligingly nuzzled Wesson.
Most people, however, could only see Wesson's hand stroking something invisible—like a mime.
The Thestrals at Hogwarts were well-tamed. Unless truly driven to it, they would not attack people or other animals; that was why Wesson felt at ease letting the students interact with them.
"Now… who would like to touch one?" Wesson glanced over the group and, smiling, called on someone by name. "Mr Longbottom, come and try. You can see them."
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