After that lesson, the shadow of the prophecy seemed to cling to Harry like a heavy fog. As the trio left the Divination classroom, the weight of it pressed down on them.

"She's just putting on a show," Ron said, patting Harry on the shoulder, though his voice wavered. "She just likes... blowing things way out of proportion for drama!"

Hermione, however, wore a serious expression. "But Professor Trelawney seemed... so certain. And the way she completely changed..."

Harry remained silent, his pale face drawn. The terrifying prophecy, combined with the memory of the enormous black dog he had glimpsed on the Grim Slytherin Path—a memory he hadn't dared share with anyone—sent a chill down his spine.

"She's right," Harry finally said, interrupting, his voice steadier than anyone expected. "Orion was right. Whatever it is, we face it. We don't just sit around waiting to die."

His determined tone caught Ron and Hermione off guard. Perhaps Orion's straightforward words had given Harry an unexpected anchor.

Now, the trio climbed the last steps of the winding staircase in silence, searching for their next class—Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration. Though they left the classroom early, it still took them some time to find it. As they entered, the lesson was just beginning.

The air in McGonagall's classroom that afternoon carried a different kind of weight, heavy and focused. Harry slid into a chair at the back, feeling like he was sitting under a spotlight; it seemed as if every eye in the room was secretly watching him, waiting for him to collapse at any moment.

Harry barely registered anything McGonagall said about Animagi—the wizards who could transform into animals at will. His mind was still haunted by the image of the massive black dog and Trelawney's trembling voice. He didn't even look up when the professor, for demonstration, transformed into a sleek black cat, her square glasses perched neatly.

When McGonagall returned to her human form with a soft "pop," she scanned the class with an unusual look.

"Honestly, what's wrong with all of you today?" she asked, her sharp voice cutting slightly. "There's no obvious problem, but this is the first time I've taught a class without a single clap after a Transfiguration demonstration."

All eyes immediately flicked to Harry, yet no one spoke. Finally, Hermione raised her hand, her voice trembling slightly.

"Professor, we just had our first Divination class, and we—uh—learned tea leaf reading, and..."

McGonagall's expression sharpened, and she cut her off with a dismissive wave.

"Ah, I see. No need to say more, Hermione." She scanned the room again, landing on Harry's pale face with intent. "Now tell me, which one of you is going to die this year?"

A sharp intake of breath rippled through the room. Every student stared, wide-eyed. Finally, Harry spoke, his voice hoarse:

"It's me, Professor."

McGonagall regarded him carefully, her small, bright eyes glinting behind her glasses.

"I see," she said, nodding firmly. "Then you should understand, Harry, that since Trelawney arrived at this school, she's predicted the death of a student every year. Not one of those predictions has come true. Seeing a 'death omen' is just her way of welcoming a new class."

She paused, inhaling deeply, as if restraining herself from saying more. Her nose paled slightly.

"I never speak ill of my colleagues, but..." Another pause. "Divination is one of the least precise branches of magic. I have very little patience for it. True seers are rare, and Professor Trelawney..."

She cleared her throat, wisely stopping there. Then, turning to Harry, her tone became grounded and practical:

"Your health is perfectly fine, Harry. So I'll forgive you this time if you skip the homework. I promise: if you actually die, then, and only then, you won't have to submit it."

A burst of laughter escaped Hermione, breaking the tension. Harry felt the enormous weight on his chest lift. It was impossible to be terrified of a bunch of tea leaves once the oppressive, smoky, red-lit atmosphere of that room had been left behind.

Not everyone was immediately convinced. Ron still looked worried, while from Lavender Brown's table, a faint whisper lingered: "What about Neville's cup? It shattered completely!"

As the bell rang, signaling the end of class, students streamed toward the Great Hall for dinner. Orion, sitting in a corner, had watched McGonagall's practical reassurance unfold. A faint smile touched his lips. Hogwarts still had teachers who could dispel the darkness of superstition with reason. He decided he wouldn't intervene further; the words of the school's strictest deputy carried more weight than anything he could offer.

Lunch in the Great Hall passed under a strange air at the Gryffindor table. Hermione tried to soothe Harry with logic, Ron remained preoccupied with the thought of the Grim, and Orion, in contrast, seemed perfectly at ease. He ate his pudding with relish, occasionally throwing his disciples a look that silently said, Relax, it's nothing.

"Worried about the prophecy?" Orion asked Harry, his tone calm. "Consider it just a reminder to live in the moment. Besides," he added with a sly grin, "if there really is a deathly black dog, it should be scared of us first."

His words weren't dismissive of Harry's fear—they were an offer of solidarity. A promise to face danger together.

Later that afternoon, a cold wind blew across the Hogwarts grounds as the third-years headed to Hagrid's hut for Care of Magical Creatures. Excitement mixed with curiosity, the air buzzing with anticipation.

Hagrid, towering and bearded, stood at the door, grinning widely. "Welcome, everyone!" His booming voice carried. "Time for your first lesson in Care of Magical Creatures!"

His gaze swept the group and landed on Harry, eyes shining with pride. Then it rested on Orion, who stood calmly, hands in his pockets, observing the enormous teacher with keen interest.

"Today we're learning about a truly magnificent creature!" Hagrid announced, leading the class to the rear of the hut, where a pen was covered by a large tarp. "They're beautiful, but dangerous if you don't treat them right!"

With a dramatic tug, Hagrid whipped the tarp away, revealing creatures with the upper body of a golden eagle and the lower body of a horse. They flapped their wings and neighed, stirring the students.

"Meet the Hippogriffs!" Hagrid clapped enthusiastically. "Proud creatures! Always show respect!"

The entire class, except Orion, stepped back in hesitation.

"Now, who wants to approach one?" Hagrid asked.

A tense silence fell. Then, to everyone's surprise, Orion stepped forward. He wasn't afraid—just intensely curious.

"Remember, Potter," Hagrid warned, slightly anxious, "bow first, and wait for the bow back. Never turn your back."

Orion nodded. He approached a gray Hippogriff slowly, bowing gently, eyes fixed on the creature. A tense moment passed, then the Hippogriff nodded slightly—acceptance.

A relieved exhale swept through the group. Hagrid clapped again. "Excellent! Very well done!"

Orion turned, a small smile on his lips, glancing at Harry like an unspoken invitation. Bolstered, Harry stepped up and successfully befriended Buckbeak, the gray Hippogriff.

But Draco Malfoy's encounter was disastrous. Arrogant and dismissive of Hagrid's instructions, Draco insulted Buckbeak. In an instant, a dark shadow lunged. A scream pierced the air. All anyone saw was Draco's arm being raked by Buckbeak's sharp talons, blood dripping.

"DRACO!"

Orion, who had seemed composed moments before, was suddenly a whirlwind of panic. He barreled forward, dodging the stunned students, kneeling beside Draco as he groaned in pain. Orion's hands, already smeared with blood, pressed a strip of torn fabric from his own robes to stop the bleeding.

"Draco! Stay with me! Come on! You'll be okay..." His eyes never left Draco's face.

"Oh, Merlin! I'm so sorry!" Hagrid cried, pale and frantic, rushing to corral Buckbeak back into the pen. He scooped Draco into his arms with care. "Madam Pomfrey'll fix him right up!"

Orion jumped to his feet, trailing Hagrid, his face ghostly pale, gray eyes clouded with worry. The playful, confident "uncle" persona vanished—here was someone whose fear for another's safety ran raw and deep.

Harry watched, still shaken from his own encounter with Buckbeak, but this scene dwarfed that fear. He saw Orion—once audacious and reliable—now frantically tending to Draco Malfoy with the same desperate care he'd shown for Harry.

Draco... too? A strange, bitter twinge crept into Harry's chest.

He remembered Orion at breakfast, casually saying, "I'm his uncle too." Back then, Harry had been frustrated and confused. Now, seeing it firsthand, he finally grasped the weight of that truth.

A small, selfish pang of jealousy stirred. Harry had found a steadfast uncle, a source of protection, and realized: that love, that instinct to shield, wasn't his alone. Orion would panic, would leap to protect even Draco Malfoy—with the same intensity.

"Blimey," Ron muttered, breaking Harry's reflection, awe and irritation mingled in his voice. "Look at him. He's treating Malfoy like he's about to die. And it's just a scratch!"

Hermione, perceptive as ever, gently touched Ron's arm, signaling him to stay quiet, then whispered to Harry: "You okay? I know... it's strange, seeing that."

Harry nodded, silent. He watched Orion follow Hagrid, heart hollowed in an unfamiliar way. Hogwarts, it seemed, was not just a place of learning—it was a place of complicated loyalties and shared hearts. And having the same uncle as Draco Malfoy was going to make everything a lot more... tangled.