Bringing Fairytales to Hogwarts!

Bringing Fairytales to Hogwarts!

In the dim mist-filled forest—

While Dumbledore mused at length over the uniqueness of Viktor's magic, Scrimgeour still couldn't understand what that woman in the rain had been. But before he could voice his confusion, a heavy thudding sound broke through his thoughts.

"Thud... thud..."

The ground trembled faintly.

Scrimgeour and Dumbledore both tensed, turning in the direction of the sound.

"That weight… a dragon? Or a giant?" Scrimgeour murmured.

But the answer soon emerged from the mist.

A massive house appeared—balanced atop two towering chicken legs, each the height of a two-story building. The chicken legs were dark and greyish, sprouting from beneath the wooden structure, with vines coiled around the joints. The cottage itself had glowing blue nightshade growing around its roof, and the whole thing looked eerie and witch-like as it trudged through the forest.

It couldn't look more like a witch's lair if it tried.

The chicken-legged house walked forward a few more paces, then halted with a rustle of leaves and snapping twigs.

A rope ladder unrolled from above.

"Let's go," Viktor said, glancing back at the two men before ascending the ladder.

Once all three were inside the warm wooden cabin, the surreal strangeness of it all gave way to a solid, grounding sense of reality.

"Marvelous. Truly marvelous," Dumbledore said in wonder, gazing at the crackling fire in the hearth, then down at the shifting chicken legs below them.

"What kind of magic is this?" Scrimgeour asked Viktor.

"Is it like the large-scale enchantments used at Hogwarts? Or is this house an alchemical construct?"

"Could be either. I haven't studied it," Viktor replied simply.

"You've already shown us how unique this place is, Mr. Vanderboom," Dumbledore said gently.

"I fully believe Harry stumbled in here by accident. But I still have one question: why was Harry able to cross over from Privet Drive?"

"A modified Muggle-Repelling Charm, perhaps?" Scrimgeour guessed.

"Something like that," Viktor said.

"The mists surrounding our house are constantly shifting, drifting between England and Scotland. Sometimes they drift close to cities. The fog usually wards off both Muggles and wizards—but it's less reliable when it comes to children with... special talents."

"What kind of talents?"

"Strong desire, maybe," Viktor replied vaguely, removing his pointed hat and hanging it on the rack beside the tall mirror.

At that moment, Baba Yaga wasn't in the sitting room.

From where Dumbledore and Scrimgeour stood, they could see the whole cabin. On the left were windows, a sink, and some cupboards. In front of them was a hearth; on the right, a woven rug and some soft chairs. Behind them, a small square dining table. The place was cozy, a bit small, but undeniably charming.

Dumbledore took a thoughtful look around.

"If that's the case, then simply reinforcing the repelling charm should solve the issue," he murmured.

"Not difficult."

Then he turned back to Viktor.

"But now, let's move on to other matters, Mr. Vanderboom."

"Other matters?"

"Yes." Dumbledore nodded and approached the dining table.

"You don't mind an old man sitting while we talk, do you?"

"Not at all. Please, sit." Viktor gestured.

Dumbledore and Scrimgeour took seats on either side of the table, while Viktor sat opposite them. As they settled in, a stout, round-headed teapot waddled up onto the table, followed by three dainty teacups.

The teapot gave a wiggle and poured each of them a serving of hot tea.

"Thank you. A cup of tea after a walk like that is perfect," Dumbledore said with a smile.

He took a sip, set the cup down, and grew serious.

"There's another reason I'm here."

"Mr. Vanderboom, last night—despite being surrounded by every other Hogwarts professor—Professor Sybill Trelawney nonetheless fell into a deep sleep. Just as you... predicted."

"Oh." Viktor didn't react much.

"Aurors from the Ministry—Mr. Scrimgeour among them—and I conducted a thorough investigation. There was no sign of any curse or magical interference. What we did find was a toxic reaction between the vine she pricked herself on and the incense she constantly burns."

"She's already been transferred to St. Mungo's. The healers say it'll take at least two years for her to wake up, because the rare herb has a two-year active cycle…"

"Seems the first half of the prophecy has come true."

Dumbledore didn't bother asking whether the second half would too—after all, it was Viktor himself who made the prophecy. No matter what he asked, the answer would just be "yes."

And he had already investigated the situation thoroughly.

The night before, every Hogwarts staff member had stayed with Trelawney. At the stroke of midnight, they were all gathered in the Great Hall, chatting and eating desserts, confident nothing would happen. Dumbledore had kept a close eye on Sybill himself, even sealing all the windows in the hall so she couldn't see any dangerous vines.

But while she was chatting, her headscarf slipped off.

When she stood to retrieve it, she tripped on the hem of her long robes and fell. In that instant, one of the magically sealed windows was knocked open, and her hand brushed against a vine that—no one knew how—had appeared just outside.

She fell into a coma and was rushed to St. Mungo's that very night.

From the moment Dumbledore heard the diagnosis, he had begun to believe in Viktor's prophecy.

And indeed, he had detected no magical tampering. Everything about it had seemed like an eerie, tragic accident—too perfect to be coincidence. Even the Wizards' Code of Law had no grounds to punish Viktor.

If anything, if the rest of the prophecy came true, it would be a good thing.

Trelawney had long dreamed of being a true Seer, though she had no idea she'd already made a few genuine prophecies in her life.

Prophecies can't be altered.

Dumbledore sighed softly, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a letter, sliding it across the table to Viktor.

It was sealed parchment, bearing the Hogwarts crest of badger, snake, eagle, and lion.

"This is your official appointment letter, Mr. Vanderboom. Hogwarts would like to offer you the post of Divination Professor for the next two years."

"The textbook Sybill used was Unfogging the Future. If you wish to use a different one, let us know as soon as possible so we can inform the students in time."

"Also, students in their fifth year will take O.W.L. exams in Divination, and the graduates will sit their N.E.W.T. exams. You'll likely need to give those two years extra attention."

Viktor took the letter.

But when he heard about the two exams, his hand paused slightly.

...?

"What were the Divination exams like in previous years?" he asked, sounding more confused than worried.

He wasn't concerned about exams—he was confused about the content.

Trelawney barely opened her Inner Eye once every five years—

So what on earth had the students been learning all this time?

Could you really call it Divination if no one actually saw the future?