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HP Chapter 122: Professor Trelawney
🕑 Added 2025-10-08 14:00:16 +0000 UTCThis went on for two whole days. In short, aside from classes, meals, and sleep, Anne spent every spare moment buried in her data, completely oblivious to everything else. During Professor Binns’ History of Magic class, she even boldly spread out her papers and studied them right on her desk, acting as if the teacher didn’t exist.
Finally, during dinner one evening, Anne flipped over the last page of data, tucked it away in her bag, and let out a long breath. “Finally done. I’ll definitely be able to hand in the report by Friday. I’m starving, ”
With that, she pulled the two closest meat dishes and a large bowl of pudding toward herself.
“Anne, I think I should warn you about something…” Fanny began, her tone hesitant.
“Hm? What is it?” Anne asked, digging a spoon into the pudding.
“These past two days, I think Hermione has stared at you at least ten times. I didn’t want to say anything, but honestly, it’s been so frequent, ” Fanny sighed, clearly at a loss, “And she’s looking at you right now. Maybe you should talk to her?”
Anne froze mid-spoonful. She forced the pudding down her throat and asked, a little guilty, “Uh… it’s been like this for two days?”
Fanny nodded seriously. “Yes. Especially today, it’s gotten worse. During History of Magic this afternoon, I swear she spent the entire class watching you. But she probably noticed how absorbed you’ve been in your data, so she hasn’t approached you yet.”
“Ahem… well then, ” Anne scooped up another spoonful of pudding. “Can you tell if she wants to talk to me for something good or… not so good?”
“That, I really don’t know,” Fanny said honestly. “But are you going to talk to her?”
“I… okay, yeah.”
After dinner, instead of pulling out her data sheets like usual, Anne stood up and glanced toward Hermione. Hermione clearly noticed; she lit up and immediately dragged Harry and Ron over.
Just like many times before, the group gathered in the Entrance Hall. Harry looked grumpy, but Ron and Hermione greeted Anne and Fanny warmly, Ron especially so toward Fanny.
After a few words of greeting, Hermione beamed and handed Anne a Galleon.
Anne took it and turned it over curiously. “What’s this for? Why are you giving me a Galleon?”
Hermione smiled even brighter. “It’s inspired by you, Anne, since you always fidget with coins, I got the idea. This is our meeting signal.” She pointed to the numbers engraved around the edge. Leaning close, she whispered, “On real Galleons, these numbers are just goblin mint marks. But on these, ours, they change to show the date and time of our next meeting. When it’s set, the coin heats up to alert you.”
Anne’s ears turned bright red. She stammered, “Uh… but aren’t you worried I’ll… I don’t know… tell someone?”
Harry and Ron’s eyes widened in alarm.
“I told you we shouldn’t give her one,” Harry said sharply.
Hermione shot him a disapproving look. “Harry, I don’t think any real informant would just blurt out something like that. And besides, Anne wouldn’t.”
Harry crossed his arms and looked at Anne but didn’t argue, he tacitly agreed. Truthfully, he was still sore over the way Anne had handled their last disagreement. He always felt she could’ve taken a gentler approach.
Hermione turned to Ron, who quickly nodded in support.
“Anne, I really hope to see you at the next meeting,” Hermione said cheerfully. “As a consultant, of course. I think there’s a lot we can learn from you.” Then she added, “Anyway, I’m sure you’ve got plenty of work to do, so we’ll head off.”
The trio said their goodbyes and left.
Anne stood there holding the coin, dazed, until Fanny waved a hand in front of her face.
On the walk back to the Slytherin common room, Anne kept fiddling with the Galleon, Hermione’s words echoing in her mind. Being trusted like that should’ve made her happy… but instead, it left her feeling strangely heavy-hearted.
Back in their dormitory, Anne finally slipped the coin into her pocket, pulled out her draft, and, with her notes in hand, completed her report and placed it neatly on the table.
But instead of doing homework like usual, she pulled the Galleon out again.
When Fanny came out of the bathroom, she found Anne at the desk, the coin flipping rapidly between her fingers.
“Anne, are you planning to play with that coin all night instead of sleeping?” Fanny asked as she passed by.
Anne glanced at her and stopped flipping it. “Fanny, do you trust me?”
“Duh. Of course,” Fanny replied like it was the dumbest question in the world.
“Then… between you and Hermione, who do you think trusts me more?”
“Is that even something you can compare?” Fanny asked, but seeing Anne’s troubled expression, she gave a sincere answer. “Probably about the same. She really cares about you.”
Anne hesitated. “And if… if one day I do something that really disappoints you, you’d be upset, right?”
Fanny frowned. “Depends on what you do.” Her gaze drifted to the coin in Anne’s hand, and her eyes widened. She lowered her voice, “Anne, you’re not seriously thinking of ratting them out, are you?”
Anne gave her a sharp look. “Of course not.”
Fanny relaxed immediately. “Whew, I knew it. So what’s this all about?”
“It’s… between me and Hermione. I was planning to wait until after O.W.L.s to tell her, so it wouldn’t affect her exams. But now I think I should say it sooner. If I drag it out…” Anne trailed off, her voice growing heavy. “I think it’ll hurt her even more later. She trusts me so much already. It’s better to just… rip the bandage off.”
She gave a bitter little laugh. “She never should’ve trusted me this much. I’ve known for so long and just kept avoiding it. I knew nothing could come of it, but I kept lying to myself.”
Fanny practically exploded. “Oh no. Anne, don’t tell me you’re planning to take that Galleon she just gave you today, and then go break her heart tomorrow?”
“I am,” Anne said quietly. “I think I should return the coin and be honest. It’s time I faced things. She’s got more important things ahead, and… it was a mistake for her to like me in the first place.”
Fanny grabbed Anne by the shoulders, firm and serious. “Calm. Down. Anne.”
Anne took a few deep breaths.
“Good. Now listen,” Fanny said. “I mean this seriously, you can’t control how Hermione feels about you. That’s her decision, not yours. So don’t go calling it a ‘mistake.’”
Anne blinked at her, stunned.
“And think carefully before you make any decisions. If you really go through with this, are you sure you won’t regret it?”
Doubt flickered in Anne’s eyes.
“Ask yourself, what really matters most to you?”
What matters most?
Lying in bed, Anne stared at the canopy above, silently mouthing the question to herself.
The next day, Friday, Anne got up early. She hadn’t slept well.
She tied the thick report to Momo’s leg, then started breakfast. She took a big bite of her bacon sandwich, cheeks puffed out.
After finishing that and a fried egg, she looked around the Great Hall. “Weird… Fanny, was it like this before, when I didn’t come down for breakfast?”
The place was nearly empty. Only a handful of students sat scattered across the House tables.
Fanny checked her watch. “I was wondering that too. Usually, it’s packed by now.”
Suddenly, a loud commotion erupted outside the Entrance Hall, startling everyone in the Great Hall.
Anne and Fanny exchanged a glance and jumped to their feet.
Following the noise, they rounded the corridor and saw almost half the school gathered in the courtyard.
“No wonder no one was at breakfast, ” Fanny began, then gasped. She’d spotted Professor Trelawney in the middle of the courtyard.
And she looked awful. One hand clutched her wand, the other a teacup. Her hair was wild, her glasses askew, scarf and shawl in tatters. Beside her were two large trunks, one had toppled over, as if thrown down the stairs.
“No! This can’t be happening! No! I refuse to accept this!” she shrieked.
“You didn’t see this coming?” said a girlish, mocking voice.
Umbridge stepped into view.
“Even if you couldn’t predict tomorrow’s weather, surely you realized that your dreadful performance, and total lack of improvement, would lead to your dismissal?”
“You, you can’t!” Trelawney cried, tears spilling behind her enormous glasses. “You can’t fire me! I’ve been—been here sixteen years! H-Hogwarts is my home!”
“It was your home,” Umbridge said with a smug smile, watching Trelawney collapse onto a trunk, sobbing. “Until an hour ago, when the Minister signed your dismissal order. Now leave the school. You’re making a scene.”
She stood there gloating while Trelawney sobbed and trembled.
Then Professor McGonagall pushed through the crowd, walked straight to Trelawney, and gently patted her back, pulling a large handkerchief from her robes.
“There, there, Sybill. Blow your nose. It’s not as bad as it seems. You’re not leaving Hogwarts.”
“Oh really, Professor McGonagall?” Umbridge sneered, stepping forward. “And who authorized that?”
“I did,” said a calm, deep voice.
Dumbledore entered through the oak doors and made his way through the crowd to Trelawney.
“You?” Umbridge gave a screechy little laugh. “I don’t think you understand. I have here,” she pulled out a scroll, “a dismissal order signed by myself and the Minister of Magic. Under Educational Decree Number Twenty-Three, as High Inquisitor, I have the authority to evaluate, retain, or dismiss any teacher I, that is, the Ministry, deem unfit. I have dismissed Professor Trelawney.”
Dumbledore smiled pleasantly. Looking down at the weeping professor, he said, “You’re absolutely right, Professor Umbridge. You do have the authority to dismiss my teachers. But you do not have the power to remove them from the castle. That authority still lies, ” he bowed politely, “, with the Headmaster. And I wish Professor Trelawney to remain at Hogwarts.”
Trelawney let out a teary laugh. “No, no, I must go, Albus. I must leave, leave Hogwarts and find a new life, ”
“No,” Dumbledore said firmly. “I want you to stay, Sybill.”
He turned to McGonagall.
“Will you escort her upstairs, please?”
“Of course. Come on, Sybill.”
Professor Sprout rushed to support Trelawney’s other arm. Together, they helped her past Umbridge and up the marble staircase. Professor Flitwick followed, waving his wand and calling, “Mobilicorpus!” The trunks rose and floated after them.
Umbridge stood frozen, glaring at Dumbledore, who still smiled warmly.
“When I appoint a new Divination teacher who needs her room, what will you do then?” she hissed.
“Oh, that’s no trouble at all,” Dumbledore said cheerfully. “You see, our new Divination teacher will arrive tomorrow, and he prefers a room on the ground floor. Under Decree Number Twenty-Two, the Ministry only appoints teachers if the Headmaster cannot find a suitable candidate.”
Umbridge’s eyes bulged, but she said nothing. She turned and stormed back into the castle.
“Well, everyone,” Dumbledore said, still smiling, “do head to breakfast. First period is about to begin.”
