With Halloween fast approaching, most Slytherin students couldn't contain their restless anticipation. This year's Halloween was unlike any before; for third-years, it marked the beginning of their Hogsmeade visits. As the premier holiday destination of the wizarding world, Hogsmeade held an irresistible allure for the students.
The next day, during Potions class, the usually reserved Gryffindor girls gathered around Lavender Brown. Parvati Patil had her arm draped over Lavender's shoulders, explaining something to Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, who both wore serious expressions.
"Well, well, what's the occasion today, Gryffindors?" Draco Malfoy sneered, his voice dripping with malice. His gray-blue eyes glinted mischievously. "Organizing a public meeting in Snape's class before he arrives? Such blatant disregard for classroom rules. As a law-abiding Slytherin and model student, I can hardly bear to witness this travesty." He rubbed his chin theatrically, as though contemplating how best to report the matter to Professor Snape.
"What happened, Lavender?" Hermione asked anxiously as she, Harry, and Ron joined the group, entirely ignoring Malfoy's pointed glare.
"She received a letter from home this morning," Parvati whispered, her voice tinged with sorrow. "Her rabbit, Binky, was killed by a fox."
"Oh," Hermione said, her tone soft with sympathy. "I'm so sorry, Lavender."
"I should've known!" Lavender wailed. "Don't you remember what she said? 'That thing you fear will happen on October 16th!' She was right! She was right all along!"
Even the Slytherin students couldn't resist being drawn into the drama. Lillian let out a derisive laugh, clearly unimpressed. "So, you were afraid it would be eaten by a fox all along?" she asked mockingly.
"Well, not specifically by a fox," Lavender retorted, her eyes flashing with anger at Lillian's sarcasm. "Professor Trelawney clearly foresaw this! I was obviously worried it might die. Isn't that right?"
Lillian chuckled again, her tone dripping with irony. "So, you've always feared it would die? Does that mean it was an old rabbit?"
"No," Lavender sobbed. "It was still young!"
Parvati hugged Lavender more tightly, consoling her distraught friend.
"Oh, I see," Lillian replied with a peculiar sigh, clearly at a loss for words.
"If it was a young rabbit, why were you so afraid it would die?" Hermione pressed on, her skepticism of Trelawney mirroring Lillian's disdain. Unlike Lillian, however, Hermione pursued the matter more earnestly.
Parvati glared at Hermione. Even within Gryffindor, there were skeptics of Trelawney's supposed wisdom. Lillian's red eyes glimmered with bemusement as she observed the dynamic. It seemed nearly impossible to reason with Trelawney's fervent admirers, who clung to their perceived superiority with maddening conviction. Faced with such stubbornness, Lillian opted for a knowing smile.
"Well, let's approach this logically," Hermione continued, addressing the group. "Binky didn't even die today, did it? Lavender only received the news today—" Lavender let out a fresh wail. "—and it's clear the news shocked her. She couldn't have been constantly fearing this!"
"Don't listen to her, Lavender," Ron said loudly. "She doesn't care about other people's pets."
A slow clap echoed from the Slytherin side. Malfoy smirked, his gray-blue eyes alight with amusement. "Bravo, Weasley! Do take some notes from Granger. At least one Gryffindor in your lot understands basic logic. Honestly, with intellect like this, I worry about your house's future. At this rate, you'll be disgracing yourselves in old age. Such... ineffable superiority." He continued clapping, wearing an expression of mock sympathy.
Augustus watched the scene unfold, his lips curling into a faint smile. Prophecies were inherently subjective, he thought. Most so-called seers merely spun vague predictions from experience, with little basis in truth. True prophets were exceedingly rare. After all, destiny itself was nebulous—a river shaped by countless tributaries and coincidences. A single butterfly's flutter could spark a storm across continents. As such, perfect, precise prophecies were virtually impossible. To regard a random fear as confirmation of prophecy? No wonder Malfoy questioned their intelligence.
When Halloween night arrived, Augustus and his Slytherin companions emerged from their common room, making their way to the Great Hall. Loki and Thor flanked him, their natural rivalry evident even in their glances, which carried a faint, smoldering tension.
The Great Hall was decked out in its usual Halloween splendor: hundreds of carved pumpkins glowed, bats flitted through the air, and flaming orange streamers drifted lazily below the enchanted ceiling, like shimmering water snakes.
Halloween always brought a sense of joy and festivity. At the staff table, Professor Lupin appeared cheerful, engaging in lively conversation with the diminutive Professor Flitwick. Snape, as usual, sat alone, eating in silence. Dumbledore occasionally waved to the professors, while even the typically stern Professor McGonagall wore a smile. Hagrid, his massive frame towering over everyone, sported a bushy beard glistening with spilled mead.
"Lavender's blind devotion is truly something else," Malfoy remarked suddenly, recalling the morning's events with undisguised scorn.
"Oh, Trelawney? That so-called fraud?" Loki drawled, casually spearing a dessert with his fork. His eyes gleamed with mischief. "Few in the wizarding world take her seriously. But here, among impressionable students, she's found her niche."
"Well, that's not entirely fair," Thor replied. "Though her reputation is exaggerated, her grandfather was a genuine prophet. Even in the dark days of Grindelwald's reign, his name was revered. True seers are rare, but they do exist."
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