madnovel Chapter 227 The Sudden Prophecy
Chapter 227 The Sudden Prophecy
Chapter 227 The Sudden Prophecy
Lynch stepped onto the stairs leading back into the castle, the stone steps echoing softly beneath his feet.
Just as he was about to reach the second-floor landing, he heard arguing from above, the sounds particularly clear in the empty stairwell.
"—I'm telling you, Sybil, this is impossible!" It was Professor McGonagall's resolute voice, tinged with suppressed impatience. "There's no budget for those—extra crystal balls and incense. You need to learn to teach within the existing resources."
"But you don't understand, Minerva!" Professor Trelawney's ethereal, trembling voice rang out. "Without the guidance of the 'Dust of Spirituality' and the 'Spindle of Fate,' next spring's astrology course will lose a crucial dimension of insight! This is an obscuring of the celestial eye, a disregard for destiny!"
Lynch walked up to the platform and saw Professor Sybil Trelawney, who had just finished class at Hogwarts, waving her arms excitedly. Her large glasses had slipped down to the tip of her nose, and the numerous shawls and necklaces hanging on her body jingled.
Professor McGonagall stood opposite her, arms crossed, her face even more grim than at breakfast, clearly having run out of patience.
"My answer is no, Sybil. There's no more discussion," Professor McGonagall said, turning to leave.
"Oh my God!" Professor Trelawney reached out to grab Professor McGonagall's arm, but seemed to lose her footing from excitement, or perhaps the few glasses of sherry she'd secretly drunk before breakfast were starting to take effect; a cloth bag filled with various odds and ends slipped from her arms, containing a few small incense burners,
Several bundles of brightly colored feathers, several packets of spices exuding a peculiar scent, and a rather ancient-looking, enormous crystal ball tumbled down the stairs with a crash, heading straight for Lynch, who had just stepped onto the platform.
Professor McGonagall turned around in astonishment.
Lin Qi didn't even flinch as he naturally raised his right hand.
A flash of light appeared, and all the rolling objects stopped in mid-air, as if held up by an invisible hand. Even the most fragile crystal ball and the incense bottle came to a steady stop.
With an elegant wave of his hand, the odds and ends flew back to him and arranged neatly in the air.
He reached out and held the most valuable-looking ancient crystal ball in his palm, then gathered the rest of the items together and let them float around him.
"Your belongings, Professor Trelawney." Lynch climbed the steps, a warm smile on his face, and handed the items back to the Divination professor, who was still slightly out of breath and looked shaken.
Professor Trelawney received her precious children with trembling hands, murmuring, "Thank you—thank you, dear—oh, fate always arranges things this way, breaking the balance at crucial moments, only to have it held together by another force—"
Just as Lynch was about to withdraw his hand, nod to Professor McGonagall, and leave, Professor Trelawney suddenly stretched out her cold fingers and grabbed his wrist!
Her strength was astonishing; her nails almost dug into Lynch's skin.
Professor McGonagall's face immediately revealed undisguised anger and extreme impatience.
She believed this was yet another exaggerated, even somewhat rude, performance by Professor Trelawney to achieve her goals.
"Sybil! Release Mr. Lynch immediately! What kind of behavior is this!" Her voice was stern, filled with suppressed anger.
But Professor Trelawney seemed not to hear at all.
Her eyes, hidden behind thick glasses, suddenly widened, pupils dilated, and lost focus. In a hollow, hoarse voice, completely different from her usual tone, as if from a distant place, she spoke rapidly: "I saw it—the entangled threads were torn apart by an invisible force—cracks appeared on the silver shield in the darkness—you walked on a blade—three times, the dark moon sank into the waters of darkness—when the spindle of fate came to a sudden halt, before eternal stillness—choosing the weaver's destiny, or the eternal yarn—or—"
The last "or" syllable, with an eerie tremor, hung in mid-air, unable to fall.
Her voice stopped abruptly, as if she had been choked.
The hand that had been gripping Lynch suddenly released its hold, and she collapsed backward like a puppet with its strings cut. Fortunately, Professor McGonagall reacted quickly and caught her. Professor Trelawney leaned against McGonagall, panting heavily, her eyes unfocused and dazed, as if she had just escaped from a nightmare and was completely unaware of her words and actions just now.
"What's wrong with me? Professor McGonagall—I feel so cold—" she murmured weakly, her body trembling slightly.
Professor McGonagall's anger froze slightly, replaced by an expression that was a mixture of surprise and embarrassment.
She had never believed in clairvoyance or prophecy, but just now she felt that Sybil's "performance" this time was too immersive, so real... that it was even a little creepy.
Now that she had come to her senses, she recalled the obscure words she had just heard—"silver shield," "dark moon," "spindle of fate"—and her brow furrowed more and more. She thought it was utter nonsense, and especially inappropriate at a time when the turmoil in the castle had just subsided.
Lynch's body stiffened slightly the instant Professor Trelawney grabbed his wrist.
When the ominous fragments of prophecy pierced his ears like icicles, a crack finally appeared on his usually calm mask. His dark eyes, no longer undisturbed, suddenly flashed with an extremely sharp, almost shocking glint, especially when the words "Three times, the dark moon sinks into the waters of darkness" and "Choose the fate of the weaver" were uttered; his breath caught almost imperceptibly for a moment.
He instinctively felt a chill creep up his spine.
He slowly withdrew his hand, and gently rubbed the area where he had been grabbed with his other hand, as if trying to dispel the lingering cold touch and ominous feeling of the prophet on his wrist.
At that moment, upon hearing Professor Trelawney's weak murmur, Lynch naturally stepped forward, his face showing just the right amount of concern.
"Excuse me, Professor Trelawney, you look very unwell."
As he spoke, a soft glow quietly emanated from his fingertips as he moved closer to Professor Trelawney's forehead, seemingly wanting to get a clearer view of her condition.
The light wasn't dazzling, but it was enough to attract the other person's scattered attention.
Professor Trelawney subconsciously raised her bewildered eyes and looked toward the light.
At that very moment, Lin Qi's gaze met hers naturally. During this brief eye contact, a barely perceptible glint of silver flashed deep within Lin Qi's dark eyes.
Lynch silently used Legilimency, the most convenient high-level spell for interrogating dark wizards, and in Professor Trelawney's extremely weak state, he quietly infiltrated her unsuspecting consciousness.
The whole process takes only a breath.
The light at Lin Qi's fingertips quietly went out. He took a half step back at the opportune moment, and when he spoke again, although his voice remained basically steady, if someone familiar with him listened carefully, they could detect a hint of tension that was lower than usual.
He bowed slightly to Professor McGonagall, who was still supporting Trelawney: "Professor Trelawney looks—"
He looked a little weak, but it wasn't anything serious; he just needed to rest for a while.
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"I hope I didn't startle you," Professor McGonagall replied politely.
She was clearly oblivious to what had just happened, her entire attention focused on the embarrassing and worrying colleague in her arms, still dismissing this sudden prophetic performance as a farce.
Lynch nodded slightly, his gaze quickly sweeping over the limp Sybil: "If there's nothing else I can help you with, I'll take my leave."
"Of course," Professor McGonagall replied succinctly, her voice tinged with weariness. "Thank you for your help, Professor Lynch. I'll take her back."
As she spoke, Professor McGonagall took out her wand, and with a wave of it, her expression visibly relaxed—after all, she herself was a wounded person whose injuries had barely healed.
Lynch said nothing more, only watching with a smile as Professor McGonagall helped Professor Trelawney walk away. Only after their figures disappeared at the end of the corridor did he turn and continue walking towards his office.
The moment he turned around, the gentle smile on his face vanished instantly, like a candle flame extinguished by the wind, replaced by a blank expression.
If you look closely, you can see the solemnity hidden beneath that calm surface.
Because during Legilimency, he did not obtain any information about the prophecy from Professor Trelawney's mind.
All that was read was a blank page.
He didn't believe that Professor Trelawney possessed enough skill in Occlumency to deceive herself, meaning that she herself genuinely didn't have that memory!
In that case… Lynch rubbed his wrist… the credibility of this prophecy seemed to be increasing…
Recalling Trelawney's unconscious prophecy, vague yet strangely fitting his situation, especially the unfinished "or—" which, like a sudden shadow, cast a chilling shadow into the fog ahead, causing a cold ripple to spread through his originally clear and firm thoughts.
Even after he returned to his office, the "eternal veil" and the unresolved choices still lingered in his mind.
Without further hesitation, Lynch walked straight to his desk, spread out a sheet of high-quality parchment, dipped his brush in ink, and the quill tip glided smoothly across the paper.
"Reggie, I need all the information on Professor Sybil Trelawney, who is currently teaching at Hogwarts, the more detailed the better—her family background, her bloodline chart; all her experiences before and after she joined Hogwarts. Use all necessary and secretive channels."
Lynch
After writing the letter, he summoned an owl and sent it out.
That afternoon, while Hogwarts was still immersed in the complex atmosphere brought about by Lockhart's "sacrifice," a group of Aurors dressed in neat robes appeared in the castle hall, led by a serious-looking female official from the Ministry of Magic with her hair neatly combed.
Their arrival immediately caused a commotion.
Students peered down the corridors, whispering amongst themselves, a mixture of curiosity and unease in their voices. The news spread quickly: the Ministry of Magic had come because of Professor Lockhart's death.
Professor McGonagall greeted them in the foyer. Her face was still somewhat pale, but she remained calm and exuded the dignity befitting the Vice-Headmaster of Hogwarts.
"Welcome to Hogwarts, everyone," her voice was clear and calm. "Headmaster Dumbledore is waiting in his office."
The leading official—Amelia Bornes, Deputy Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry of Magic—nodded slightly, her tone formulaic: "Thank you, Professor McGonagall. We understand the school's grief, but the death of a renowned wizard, especially on Hogwarts grounds, necessitates a routine investigation by the Ministry. We need to understand the details of the incident and examine the scene."
"Of course, that's your responsibility," Professor McGonagall replied confidently. "These arrangements will be made after you've met with Headmaster Dumbledore."
Inside the headmaster's office, Dumbledore sat behind his desk, his blue eyes behind his half-moon spectacles appearing exceptionally deep.
"Ms. Burns," Dumbledore's voice was lower than usual, "thank you for coming so quickly."
"It's what we should do." Deputy Director Borns didn't exchange many pleasantries. She gestured to the accompanying recorder to prepare the automatic writing quill.
"Headmaster Dumbledore, please recount what happened."
"I'm sorry," Dumbledore said. "I wasn't at the school when it happened, and I only learned about the incident from others later. I'll ask the professor in charge at the time to recount what happened."
Lin Qi was then invited to the principal's office.
"Mr. Lynch," Deputy Director Burns said in a steady, emotionless voice, after carefully examining the young professor who was dressed unusually. "Please describe the situation you discovered at the scene last night."
Lynch nodded slightly: "Yes, Deputy Director Borns. Shortly after curfew last night, an unusually loud noise echoed throughout the castle. I immediately rushed to the source of the sound—the north wing covered bridge of the castle."
His language was very organized: "Upon arrival, the scene was quite chaotic: Professor Flitwick was lying near the porch; Mr. Potter was unconscious further inside; and Professor Lockhart—"
Lynch paused appropriately, as if reluctant to say what he was about to say: "He collapsed not far from Harry, having lost all vital signs. Notably, as he fell, his arm was outstretched, clutching a rather ancient-looking book tightly in his hand."
"Is this the book?" Burns gestured with his gaze to a thick-covered book on the table beside him, almost split in half, its cover charred and bearing irregular burn marks. The book lay there quietly, yet it exuded an unsettling aura, as if it were still trembling slightly.
Lynch's gaze swept over the book: "Yes, that's it. I examined it at the time; the book itself was severely damaged and was the core source of the abnormal magical fluctuations at the scene."
"In your opinion, why did Professor Lockhart die?"
"All indications," Lynch said with deep sorrow, "that Professor Lockhart displayed extraordinary courage when he discovered Mr. Potter in danger. He intervened to protect his student. His actions confronted the most dangerous eruption of the object, and he heroically gave his life. His sacrifice was noble and selfless."
This testimony perfectly complemented Dumbledore's summary. The recorder present jotted it down at lightning speed.
After the questioning, the investigation team, guided by Professor Lynch and Professor McGonagall, went to the scene of the incident.
The covered bridge in the north wing of the castle was sealed by magic, and golden magical threads shimmered faintly in the air. As they approached, a faint smell of burning could still be detected in the air, the distinctive odor of a powerful magical clash.
There was a large pit in the ground of the covered bridge, several obvious cracks on the surrounding stone pillars, and small pebbles scattered on the ground.
Several Aurors, wands in hand, began to look around.
After a while, an Auror reported to Borns: "There are strong traces of a curse and signs of a powerful magical outburst."
Another Auror was drawing magical traces on the ground with his wand, blue light flowing from the tip and forming intricate patterns. "The energy burst was here," he pointed to where Lockhart had fallen, "radiating outwards, perfectly matching the testimony."
Amelia-Borns personally examined every trace. She crouched down, lightly touching the ground with her gloved fingers, and whispered a detection spell.
After examining the scene, Amelia went to the Defense Against the Dark Arts office, where Lockhart's body was temporarily stored, to examine it in detail and confirm that the cause of death was dark magic.
When she stood up, the last trace of doubt on her face disappeared.
The group returned to the Headmaster's office, where Amelia Bornes addressed Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall, formally announcing the investigation's findings: "After a thorough investigation, the traces at the scene perfectly match the characteristics of a dangerous magical artifact exploding out of control." She declared, "The investigation is now closed."
Professor McGonagall finally breathed a sigh of relief when the Ministry of Magic's team disappeared outside the castle gates.
She glanced at Dumbledore beside her, hesitant to speak.
“Sometimes, Minerva,” Dumbledore said softly, as if sensing her gaze and looking into the deepening twilight, “a hero’s tale can be more comforting than the harsh truth. Gilderoy did indeed show courage in the end, albeit in the wrong direction.”
In the days that followed, Gilderoy Lockhart's name was gilded with a tragic yet eternal luster.
The Daily Prophet ran a front-page article titled "The Last Feat: Hero Lockhart Falls to Protect Hogwarts," recounting his many famous adventures and hailing his final sacrifice as "the perfect end to his illustrious career"—a wizard who always dared to confront darkness and triumph, ultimately giving his life to protect the next generation.
His books, such as "Walking with Trolls" and "Walking with Ghouls," have once again topped the bestseller list.
Several items produced in collaboration between the Stone Tower Merchant Guild and Lockhart were also snapped up, with Floo Powder ultimately sealing the fate of the Weasley family.
But none of this caught Lynch's attention.
The day after Reggie was sent letters to investigate Professor Trelawney, an owl delivered a thick package.
Lynch sat on the sofa in front of the fireplace, unpacked the package, and began to read by the flickering firelight.
These archives clearly come from different sources, with varying paper textures, ranging from official Hogwarts parchment archives to clippings from the Daily Prophet, and several handwritten memos, with ink colors of varying shades, as if recording information from different periods.
He looked quickly but with extreme focus. The firelight cast flickering shadows on his sharply defined profile, making his dark eyes appear even more profound.
His gaze swept across the lines of text, sometimes pausing slightly, sometimes quickly scanning over them, like the most sophisticated instrument sifting through data, not missing any valuable details.
Occasionally, he would gently turn the pages, his fingertips lingering briefly on a key piece of information before continuing to read.
After a long while, Lin Qi finally put down the last piece of paper, leaned back in the sofa, and lowered his head in deep thought.
His left elbow rested on the armrest, his slender fingertips gently touching his chin, while his right hand unconsciously drew invisible patterns on the leather of the armrest.
His gaze fell on the leaping flames, as if the answer lay hidden in their flickering light, or perhaps he was simply muttering to himself, processing all the information he had just absorbed: "Sybill Trelawney—" His voice was calm, devoid of emotion. "Born into a wizarding family. Graduated from Hogwarts Ravenclaw, with mediocre, even terrible, grades. Her performance in core courses like Charms and Transfiguration was particularly lacking, repeatedly barely passing, demonstrating her limited talent in practical magic. After leaving school, her career was also quite bumpy, drifting through various fringe professions related to 'divination'—from tea leaf reading to crystal ball divination, from card reading to palmistry, she tried almost every popular form of divination, but without success, living in constant poverty. Until—she was hired by Dumbledore as Professor of Divination at Hogwarts."
Why would Dumbledore hire a fortune teller who looked like a third-rate conman?
He paused, his right hand ceasing its circling motion and resting lightly on the armrest. His gaze deepened, and the firelight reflected two small, flickering points of light in his eyes.
"Perhaps it's because...this fortune teller is, in some way...the real deal!"
Thinking of this, Lin Qi picked up the last piece of paper again.
"Professor Trelawney's great-grandmother was one of the most famous prophets in the history of the wizarding world—Cassandra Trelawney—renowned for the remarkable accuracy of her prophecies. The archives quote several verified prophetic passages, their wording—quite similar to what we hear today—full of metaphors and symbolism, obscure and difficult to understand, yet often proven in hindsight to be spot on."
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"So, she did inherit some prophetic abilities, but perhaps... they're not stable?"
His fingertips tapped the armrest unconsciously, making a barely audible sound.
"It seems we need to be more cautious about the message conveyed by this prophecy."
The fire crackled in the fireplace, casting his long shadow as he pondered on the stone walls of the bookshelf.
"Cracks appeared on the silver shield in the darkness..." Lin Qi's brow furrowed slightly, his fingertips unconsciously tracing his chest. "Does this refer to the Soul Armor test?"