Harry Potter: From Baldur's Gate to Hogwarts

Descending the spiraling stone staircase from the headmaster's office, Harry rubbed his stomach, which had begun to grumble in protest after being deprived of food for too long. He hurried toward the Great Hall, hoping he hadn't completely missed dinner.

Luckily, by the time he arrived—rushing over to sit between Ron and Hermione under the gaze of nearly everyone in the hall—the Start-of-Term Feast was still ongoing. The long tables were still lined with plenty of pudding. It wasn't a proper meal, but at least it could fill his stomach.

Unfortunately, the moment he sat down, all the food vanished.

"Oh no…" Harry clenched his now-empty hands in despair—just seconds ago, they had been holding a spoon and fork.

Just as he was considering sneaking down to Hagrid's later for some rock cakes or something, a full paper bag was handed to him from his right. It was packed with toast, roasted meat, drumsticks, fried potatoes, and a full goblet of pumpkin juice—all of Harry's favorites.

"Thanks, Hermione. You're a lifesaver." Harry took the bag and immediately started wolfing down the food.

"I noticed you hadn't shown up, so I grabbed some for you," Hermione said quietly. "Dumbledore didn't give you a hard time, did he?"

Harry, who had been eating too fast, took a sip of pumpkin juice to ease the discomfort before exhaling in relief. "Why would Dumbledore give me a hard time? No, it was that Umbridge woman who kept making trouble for me."

"Umbridge? I've heard my dad mention her before," Ron said in a hushed tone, glancing around. "He says she's awful—does whatever it takes to gain power and is ridiculously good at sucking up to her superiors. A lot of people in the Ministry can't stand her, but since she's one of Fudge's favorites, they just put up with her. But mark my words, if Fudge ever gets kicked out, the first person to go down with him will be Umbridge."

"Speaking of which…" Harry swallowed a bite of roast meat, then peered through his glasses at the hall. "Is it just me, or is everyone staring at me more than usual today?"

Even in the short time he had looked around, he had already caught at least seven students sneaking glances in his direction.

"Mate, you have no idea how shocking your performance was tonight," Ron said, clapping a hand on Harry's shoulder in an exaggerated manner. "For years, people have only known one way to deal with Dementors—the Patronus Charm. And even that just repels them temporarily. But you? You actually killed Dementors. Not just one, but dozens! I'd bet anything that you'll be on the front page of the Daily Prophet tomorrow. Something like—'Shocking! The Boy Who Lived Has Mastered a Magic Even Dumbledore Can't!'"

"Ahh… if only I were the one getting famous…" Ron sighed wistfully.

Taking the second goblet of pumpkin juice Hermione handed him, Harry downed a large gulp. "Being famous isn't always a good thing, Ron. Especially the way I became famous. Honestly, I'd rather just be an ordinary wizard."

Ron opened his mouth to argue but, perhaps remembering Harry's family situation, closed it again without saying a word.

Now that he was no longer starving, Harry glanced toward the staff table, scanning the teachers for any new faces. He didn't see anyone unfamiliar, but when his eyes landed on Gilderoy Lockhart, who was sitting there happily trying to ingratiate himself with the other professors, he froze.

"Wait… wasn't he supposed to be fired?"

"I was wondering about that too," Ron said, turning to look at the staff table. "Hagrid's the new Care of Magical Creatures professor, and Lockhart actually kept his job as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. This year's full of surprises."

"Hagrid's the Care of Magical Creatures professor?" Harry looked up at Hagrid in shock. Sure enough, a broad grin was still plastered across his face. Considering Hagrid's background, maybe… he really was perfect for the job?

At last, Dumbledore arrived and led the school in the Hogwarts school song. When the last note of the last student faded, the feast officially ended. Under the guidance of the prefects, the students began making their way back to their dormitories.

However, just as Harry and his friends left the Great Hall, they found themselves blocked by Draco Malfoy and his usual gang of cronies.

"I heard you froze up in fear, Potter. Is it true?" Malfoy sneered. "Was Longbottom telling the truth? Our great and fearless savior, who wasn't even scared of a dragon, was completely paralyzed by a mere Dementor?"

Malfoy shoved past Hermione to stand directly in front of Harry, blocking his path to the second floor. His pale eyes gleamed with malice.

"Move, Malfoy," Ron growled through clenched teeth.

"I seem to recall you passing out cold, Weasley," Malfoy said loudly. "Collapsing onto the compartment floor with your pathetic little sister, wasn't it? That ghastly old Dementor scared you too, didn't it?"

"What's going on here? Why is there a crowd?"

A new voice interrupted, and Percy Weasley pushed through the students. Wearing his Head Boy badge, he frowned when he spotted Malfoy and his gang blocking Harry's path.

"Get back to your dormitory, Malfoy," Percy said, narrowing his eyes. "Don't make me report you to the professors. This isn't your house, and you have no right to stop people from passing."

Malfoy gave Percy a disdainful glance, then scoffed. "I was just leaving." With that, he turned and walked away, his followers trailing behind.

Harry sighed as he watched them leave. "Well… that was faster than expected."

The next morning, after their usual early-morning training, Harry and his friends headed to the Great Hall for breakfast. Percy, now officially the Head Boy, was busy distributing stacks of class schedules to the various prefects. Those prefects, in turn, hurried through the hall, occasionally tossing schedules onto students' tables as they passed.

Unlike last year, where everyone in the same year and house had identical timetables, this year's schedules were individualized—since they had begun taking elective courses.

However, speaking of the new courses, Harry suddenly recalled the biting book Hagrid had sent him over the summer. In the letter, Hagrid had even written, "You'll definitely need it."

Could it be that the monstrous book that had to be tied up just to stay quiet was actually the textbook for one of this year's new courses? But what kind of professor would assign that kind of book to students?

At the neighboring table, the Weasley twins were discussing Quidditch team tryouts.

"Ever since Charlie graduated, Gryffindor hasn't been able to find a decent Seeker. I heard Oliver is planning to hold a large-scale tryout this time, from sixth-years all the way down to second-years," George said while spreading jam on his toast.

"I don't know about that," Fred sighed. "It's going to be hard to find a Seeker as talented as Charlie..."

George sighed as well. "We could have had one… what a shame…"

The twins both turned to Harry, who was staring down at his schedule, their gazes filled with deep, unspoken resentment.

"Wow, this is great! We have several new classes today!" Hermione exclaimed excitedly, looking at her schedule.

"Several?" Harry was puzzled. "Gryffindor third-years have a full schedule in the afternoon and Astronomy at night. That only leaves the morning for electives, and at most, you can take two classes in that time. Not to mention, after Divination, there's Transfiguration. So where are all these extra classes coming from?"

Curious, Harry leaned over to take a look at Hermione's schedule. Ron, who had only chosen two electives, was just as intrigued and squeezed in as well.

"Hey, Hermione, they must have messed up your schedule," Ron frowned, glancing at the parchment in front of her. "Look at this… they've got you taking ten classes in one day! But that's impossible—there's not enough time!"

"I already spoke to Professor McGonagall about it… Oh, there she is!" Hermione's eyes lit up as she spotted Professor McGonagall approaching. She immediately sprang up from her seat and hurried over. A moment later, she returned with something in her hand, which she then fastened around her neck.

"I really don't get what she's thinking," Ron muttered, shaking his head as he looked at her schedule. "Nine o'clock—Arithmancy. Nine o'clock—Muggle Studies. Nine o'clock—Divination. Three classes at the same time. That's completely insane!"

Just then, Hagrid entered the Great Hall, wearing a mole-fur coat. One of his massive hands was absentmindedly swinging a dead ferret.

"Yeh alright, Harry? Those Dementors didn' give yeh any trouble yesterday, did they?" He stopped halfway to the staff table, looking at Harry with concern.

"I'm fine, Hagrid." Harry gave him a thumbs-up. "As long as I stay focused, those Dementors aren't much of a threat to me."

"Tha's good! But yeh lot better not miss my first lesson! It's the one before lunch! I got up at five this mornin' to get everything ready—I jus' hope it all goes smoothly… Say, to think I'm a teacher now—" Hagrid rambled on, then finally grinned at them. Waving the dead ferret in his hand, he continued toward the staff table.

"I wonder what he's got planned," Ron murmured, staring at the ferret with a grim expression.

"I have no idea, but whatever animal eats ferrets probably isn't something cute and cuddly," Harry shrugged. "Alright, time for Divination."

The three of them quickly finished their breakfast, bid farewell to Fred and George, and left the Great Hall. However, as they passed by the Slytherin table, Malfoy suddenly raised his voice. He was in the middle of telling a story, dramatically ducking under the table while shouting, "Mummy, help me!" His performance was met with roars of laughter from the surrounding Slytherins.

"Hey, Potter!" A Slytherin girl with long black hair, sitting next to Malfoy, called out mockingly. "Potter! The Dementors are coming for you! Haha!"

"Ignore them, Harry," Hermione advised from behind him. "They just want to get a rise out of you. The angrier you get, the happier they'll be."

"I'm not angry," Harry said as he walked out of the Great Hall, unfazed by the Slytherins' laughter. "I just think it's a pity."

"A pity?" Ron asked, confused. "What do you mean?"

"A pity they didn't actually start something," Harry replied calmly. "After all, sending a classmate to the hospital wing is such a hassle."

Divination was in the North Tower—a place even Harry had never been to before. The three of them wandered around for quite some time before finally arriving at a narrow platform, which was already packed with students.

"Looks like we found the right place," Ron said, glancing around in search of a classroom entrance. Then he noticed it—a round trapdoor in the ceiling with a brass plaque on it that read…

"Sybill Trelawney, Divination Teacher," Hermione read aloud as she squeezed through the crowd. "Wow, look at all these people. This professor must be pretty popular!"

"Probably just because everyone's heard this class is an easy pass," Ron muttered. "That's why I signed up for it—Fred said you don't actually have to learn much."

"I think it's because of the prophecy she made at the End-of-Term Feast," Harry remarked, glancing at Hermione's ink-stained fingertip and raising an eyebrow.

At that moment, the trapdoor suddenly opened, and a silver ladder descended soundlessly.

The students fell silent, staring at the ladder that had landed directly in front of Harry.

"You go first," Ron grinned.

So, Harry climbed up.

This was, without a doubt, the strangest classroom Harry had ever seen. In fact, it looked less like a classroom and more like a cross between an attic and an old-fashioned tearoom.

The space was cramped, with dozens of small round tables squeezed together. Each table had a lamp draped in a deep red shade, casting a dim crimson glow across the room. Plush, floral-patterned armchairs surrounded the tables, and the walls were lined with shelves stacked with dusty feathered ornaments, candle stubs, battered playing cards, silver crystal balls, and an assortment of teacups.

The air was stiflingly warm—so warm it was actually uncomfortable. The heavy curtains were drawn shut, and a large copper kettle hung over the fireplace, sending wisps of white steam into the room. The air was thick with a sweet, cloying scent.

Ron climbed up after Harry, followed by the rest of the class. The students huddled together, whispering as they took in the bizarre room.

Then, from the unseen shadows, a soft, misty voice suddenly spoke:

"Welcome," the voice said. "At last, I can see you in the flesh…"

Suddenly, a beam of sunlight flooded the classroom, revealing the source of the voice.

A thin, frail-looking woman stood in the corner, momentarily at a loss. She wore a pair of oversized glasses, a sheer, shimmering shawl draped over her shoulders, and an excessive number of necklaces and beads. Her arms were covered in bangles, and even her fingers were adorned with rings.

"Much better," Harry said with satisfaction as he looked around the now well-lit classroom. He turned to Professor Trelawney and added, "Professor, studying in dim light is really bad for your eyes. With glasses as thick as yours, you should be even more careful."

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