"And what about the third prophecy?" Professor Trelawney asked, her voice trembling with excitement.
"My apologies, Professor!" Jon shook his head solemnly. "Fate has decreed that this last prophecy will reveal itself to you in due time."
"Very well, then. We shall respect fate's choice," Trelawney said with a nod.
She resumed instructing the students, urging them to clear their minds, gaze into the crystal ball, and seek glimpses of the future within.
Suddenly, a startled cry broke the classroom's stillness.
"What is it, Mr. Avery?" Professor Trelawney asked sharply, clearly displeased by the interruption.
"This can't be!" Sean Avery stared wide-eyed at the book he'd just pulled from his bag. "I swear I packed Unfogging the Future... How could I have grabbed the wrong one?"
But in his hands was a copy of Intermediate Transfiguration Guide.
"It is most improper to attend my class without the correct textbook," Professor Trelawney said coldly, her face darkening.
"Sorry!" Avery muttered hastily and scurried to the old bookshelf to fetch a battered copy of Unfogging the Future.
All eyes in the classroom immediately turned toward Jon.
"He said Avery would end up at the old bookshelf for his book!" Melinda Bobbin from Ravenclaw whispered.
Jon remained perfectly calm, sitting motionless as though unaware of the attention. A faint, almost invisible smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Avery's mistake was, of course, no coincidence—Jon had secretly cast a Confundus Charm on him earlier that morning while he was packing his books.
All of this had been for this very moment.
"Could this be an act?" Tiffany Selwyn murmured. "That Patrick—he shares a dorm with Avery. Maybe they planned this together to trick us?"
No sooner had she spoken than a sharp crash rang out across the room.
Astoria Greengrass sat frozen in place, staring down at the shattered remains of her crystal ball on the floor.
Blood trickled from her fingers—she had tried to catch the falling ball, only to slice her hand on its broken edges.
"Are you alright?" Selwyn rushed to her side, quickly healing the cut with her wand before sweeping the shards into the trash.
"I'm sorry, Professor," Astoria said softly as she stood. "I didn't mean to... it was an accident."
Once again, every gaze turned to Jon.
This time, the suspicion in the Slytherin students' eyes faded completely.
Avery might have been Patrick's roommate—after spending nearly two days together, there was at least a faint possibility they'd staged the whole thing.
But Astoria Greengrass had no connection to Patrick whatsoever. They hadn't even spoken before today. For her to accidentally fulfill his "prophecy" was far too coincidental—and knowing her temperament, it was hard to imagine she'd cooperate in such a scheme.
There was only one explanation left: Christopher Patrick truly possessed some degree of prophetic ability. He could actually see the future.
...
Professor Trelawney looked absolutely elated.
"Wonderful! Wonderful!" she exclaimed, tottering toward Jon. "After so many years, I've finally witnessed a true genius in prophecy... Patrick, Professor Stark's assessment of you was entirely correct!"
"Assuming Professor Stark even exists," Jon thought silently—after all, he'd made up that name on the spot.
"And what about the third prophecy?" Trelawney pressed eagerly. "You told me there were three..."
"I'm sorry, Professor," Jon said quietly, his tone deepening. "The third prophecy... concerns you."
"Me?" Trelawney's eyes gleamed with curiosity. "Go on, then—tell me!"
Jon spoke slowly. "In the crystal ball, I saw your face. And surrounding it was... a falcon."
His expression grew grave, as if the words took effort to speak. Then he sighed. "Professor, you will encounter an enemy."
"I hardly think that's a reliable prophecy, dear!" Trelawney replied with a dismissive wave. "A prophet of my caliber is unlikely to have any enemies, Patrick."
Jon ignored her skepticism and continued, his tone respectful but heavy. "A tower... Professor, you will face the greatest trial of your life. You will come perilously close to losing everything you hold dear."
Trelawney's face paled, her expression tightening with unease.
"And finally... the sun," Jon said, his voice softening with relief. "I believe you are fortunate, Professor. At your darkest hour, someone will reach out and pull you back from the abyss."
"Enough!" Trelawney snapped, her voice sharp with anger. "Mr. Patrick, this is not prophecy—this is rumor-mongering! I will have no enemies, no hardships, and I certainly won't need anyone to drag me from an abyss!"
"I'm afraid that isn't up to you, Professor," Jon said calmly, shaking his head in feigned sorrow. "The future is never swayed by one's will—not even that of a prophet."
"I must retract my earlier praise, Mr. Patrick!" Trelawney said stiffly, pretending at disappointment. "I thought you showed true potential in Divination..."
"What determines whether a prophecy comes true," Jon replied evenly, "is time, not words."
Trelawney's face twisted in fury, as though she'd just swallowed something foul.
"Very well..." she managed at last, the words squeezed through clenched teeth.
Resolving to ignore him completely, she turned on her heel, marched back to the platform, and continued her lecture.
...
For the rest of the Divination lesson, hardly anyone paid attention to Professor Trelawney.
Except for Astoria, every student in the room kept sneaking glances at Jon out of the corner of their eyes, their whispers filling the air.
"Can he really predict the future?"
"I don't know, but he got both Avery and Greengrass right!"
"He seems more credible than that old fraud Trelawney!"
...
Jon's expression remained perfectly composed.
He kept his eyes fixed on the crystal ball, murmuring softly under his breath and occasionally scribbling mysterious symbols onto the parchment before him, the picture of a composed and cryptic seer.