Chapter 111: Hogsmeade Village

Harry recognized the girl as someone in his year, though they rarely interacted; he only knew that everyone called her Lavender.

"What's wrong? What happened?" Harry stepped forward and asked.

"My rabbit Binky is dead—Trelawney predicted it," she sobbed.

"Was Binky an old rabbit?" Hermione asked.

"She was just a baby rabbit…"

"Oh, Lavender," Hermione paused, then continued, "Professor Trelawney said the thing you were worried about would happen today—but you never worried about Binky suddenly dying, did you? And clearly, this didn't happen today; you just received the news today…"

"You can say that because it wasn't your rabbit that died!" Lavender snapped.

"That's how Divination works, Hermione," Ron stepped forward. "Its predictions always seem surprising yet make sense in hindsight. Lavender, the thing you were really worried about was always 'bad news from home,' right?"

"Mm." She nodded, sniffing.

"But logically, I don't think—" Hermione frowned, still trying to argue.

"Forget it, Hermione," Ron shook his head. "If you knew what Zhang Qiu predicted about Harry, you'd realize how bizarre things can get—this isn't even unusual."

"What?" Lavender stopped crying and looked at Ron curiously.

"Those things aren't meant to be spread around," Harry cut in.

"Well, you'd better be careful, Harry—Trelawney predicted something ominous for you," Lavender said, already looking up to Trelawney with admiration.

"But that's meaningless—anything from failing an exam to food stuck in your teeth can be twisted into an omen—it's all vague and ambiguous…" Hermione clearly had strong objections to Trelawney.

"If you feel you have no talent for it, you can drop Divination," Harry kindly suggested. "I think taking so many classes might be too much for you."

"Exactly! I don't want to see you in Divination class ever again!" Lavender snapped.

"You can't tell me what to do!" Hermione stormed off, throwing those words over her shoulder.

"What's gotten into her today?" Harry said, puzzled. "She seems to have a huge problem with Divination."

"It's fine, Lavender," Ron continued speaking to the grieving girl. "Divination isn't meant to guide your life. The more you try to change things or take action, the more you push the prophecy to come true—and then you'll obsess over it. But if you just live as you normally would, when the prophecy comes true, you'll think, 'I knew it all along,' and won't panic."

Lavender gradually stopped crying. Just then, Hermione returned, her expression completely unchanged from before she'd stormed out.

"I'm sorry, Lavender. I overreacted—I think I was just scared," she said.

"It's okay," Lavender accepted her apology.

"Why is Ron always comforting Lavender today?" Hermione pulled Harry aside and whispered.

"Oh…" Harry felt awkward—he hadn't expected even brilliant Hermione to harbor such girl-like emotions.

"My grandmother once said there are two things a man must never do: waste food and make a girl cry," Ron seemed to have overheard them. "That's what Neville said."

"You left half an apple pie uneaten at breakfast," Harry bluntly exposed him.

"Ahem, that's not important…"

Amid laughter and teasing, Harry and Ron returned to their dormitory, not taking the incident in the common room seriously—Divination was always unpredictable; whenever you thought it had failed or come true, something unexpected would always happen next.

"Good news, everyone," Neville announced as soon as he returned. "Professor McGonagall is collecting signatures—we can go to Hogsmeade Village starting the weekend after next."

"The weekend after next? That's right before Halloween!" Harry counted on his fingers.

"Perfect! I can't wait to get to Honeydukes!" Ron exclaimed happily.

"What's that?" Harry asked curiously.

"All kinds of sweets—Fred once gave me a candy quill," Ron demonstrated. "You can eat it during class."

"And there's Zonko's Joke Shop and the Three Broomsticks," Ron went on, recounting everything he knew about Hogsmeade, leaving Harry utterly enchanted.

Two weeks passed in a flash. As Harry prepared to depart for Hogsmeade Village, he remembered he needed to invite Zhang Qiu—she'd said on the first day of term that she wanted to go with him.

But since the start of term, Zhang Qiu had rarely smiled. Harry was certain she, like Lavender, had been driven to nervous exhaustion by the dreadful Divination.

Finally, the day arrived to go to Hogsmeade Village. Filch was counting heads, looking as grumpy as ever.

"You! What's going on?" he demanded of Zhang Qiu. "You're not on this list."

"I'm in fourth year—I'm going as a friend's companion," she shrugged.

"Oh…" Filch checked the fourth-year list and let her through.

"Actually, only the first time do you need Filch to lead you," Zhang Qiu whispered. "After that, you can go on your own."

They set out from the school's main gate, children walking in a line, hand in hand, under Filch's guidance. After a short walk, they arrived at Hogsmeade Village. Harry wondered if Hogsmeade was too close to the school—it seemed almost right beside it.

Most shops in Hogsmeade catered to students: candies, small toys, pubs, clothing stores… Even Hermione was pleasantly surprised to find a magical equipment shop and a quill shop.

"Let's see… yes, we should go to the Three Broomsticks—to hear the professors' secrets," Zhang Qiu said, her mood slightly better, though her words remained odd.

"Alright, let's get some butterbeer first," Ron said. "Honeydukes is surely packed right now—we can go later."

"We should sneak in invisibly," Zhang Qiu said. "Otherwise, we might not hear the secrets."

"Invisibility means we can't order anything or sit down," Harry said unhappily. "We finally made it to Hogsmeade, and now we have to skulk around like criminals—who's the fugitive here, Black or Potter?"

"It's fine—I'll go alone. If I hear anything useful, I'll tell you," Zhang Qiu didn't insist Harry join her.

"But aren't you going to Honeydukes?" Ron asked.

"It's fine—I've already explored every corner of this place last year," Zhang Qiu smiled, waving as she headed toward the Three Broomsticks.

"Should we go with her?" Ron asked Harry's opinion.

"Probably not—if the professors find us in the pub, will they still say anything 'secret'?"

"Alright, then let's go to Honeydukes."

The two had a blast in the enormous candy shop, buying a little of every strange and unusual sweet, until their bags were too heavy to carry.

Then, with bulging pockets full of candy, they looked for their next destination.

"What's that gloomy little house?" Harry pointed to a building.

"That's the Shrieking Shack," Ron said. "Supposedly haunted."

"Do wizards fear ghosts?" Harry asked curiously. "Nick knows the Headless Hunt—couldn't he send some ghostly knights to check it out?"

"They already checked. The conclusion was there's nothing there at all," Ron shrugged. "Just a broken-down shack—so it's been abandoned for years, ignored by everyone."

"Alright, let's check out the toy shop," Harry stepped toward Zonko's Joke Shop.

"That one's a bit… dangerous," Ron looked reluctant. "Honestly, why not look at other toys? Like, oh, this one—Sangster Gobstones Emporium."

Harry and Ron entered the shop, filled with all kinds of gobstones. The shopkeeper was a middle-aged wizard, dressed in a neat black robe, his brown eyes showing a hint of laziness.

"Oh, who are you?" He sat up sharply when he saw Harry. "You look… could you tell me your name?"

"I'm Harry Potter, sir," Harry said, seeing no reason to hide his name.

"Good heavens, look at your eyes—I can't believe it," he muttered. "So she finally married James. What a shame."

"What? Do you know my mother?" Harry asked, startled.

"Sorry, I should introduce myself first—I'm Carlan Sangster," the shopkeeper said. "I was in the same year as your parents."

"Do you know anything about them?" Harry asked cautiously.

"Of course. This Weasley is your friend, right?" Carlan stood up and rummaged in his cabinet for tea.

"Yes, my best friend—Ron Weasley," Harry said proudly.

"So you're in Gryffindor, like your father," Carlan pulled out a beautiful tea set. "Come, Harry, sit down. Old classmates' children—grown up so much already."

Harry and Ron sat at a table, watching Carlan pour tea and set out a plate of small pastries. They felt a little awkward.

"When you were at school, were you close friends with my parents?" Harry asked.

"Not exactly. Sometimes we were even enemies," Carlan said slowly, in a nostalgic tone.