To be honest, that bottle of Felix Felicis didn't bring me any good luck. At least, in the first few days after I got it, a strange face would pop out from around the corner or an empty classroom every few steps to ask me how many Galleons I would sell it for. The nicer ones would just turn around and leave after hearing my answer of "no sale". What I feared most were those who kept chattering all the way until I entered the classroom. I don't understand why it suddenly seemed that the whole school knew that I had won a bottle of Felix Felicis from Professor Slughorn. Many people even grumbled and thought he was biased, because he only seemed to set this reward in our advanced class.

On Saturday night, I was sitting in the library trying to finish the essay "The Principles of Ghost Apparition". Harry and Neville needed to go to the Headmaster's Office to meet with Dumbledore at half past eight in the evening. From their fragmented conversations, I guessed that Professor Dumbledore seemed to want to teach them something this semester during some of his spare time. But no matter what it was, it belonged to the category of "Miss Iris Snape doesn't need to know for the time being". I have to admit that the words Dumbledore said to me during the summer vacation were very considerate. Otherwise, I would definitely think that I wasn't worthy of being trusted because of this feeling of being deliberately excluded. But even though I know there are reasons like "you will understand someday", I still feel frustrated and disappointed.

I didn't want to stay in the Gryffindor common room and guess with them what Dumbledore would teach. Hermione was convinced that Dumbledore would teach Harry and Neville some advanced defensive and counter-curses that at least couldn't be found in the library. But I really couldn't figure out why these things needed to be kept from me. Anyway, no matter how I guessed, I couldn't get the answer like they could when Harry came back. So it was better to finish my homework alone in the library, which was more peaceful and comfortable, and I could also avoid the embarrassment of having to look straight ahead and go back to the girls' dormitory when they huddled together whispering.

The schoolwork in the sixth grade is really difficult. It's not at all what the senior students said in the fifth grade, that "work hard this year and you can have a whole year of leisurely time". Although our class schedule isn't as packed as before, the days when I could finish a fourteen-inch-long essay in half a day by skimping are gone forever. Even if I search through all the documents on the library shelves, I might not be able to piece together five sentences on the parchment.

Even if I use all my free time to deal with the exercises and homework assigned by the professors, not previewing the textbooks in advance means that in class, I'll be distracted when looking at sentences where I know each word but can't understand the meaning when they're put together. Even though I don't need to spend a lot of effort practicing the Silencing Charm, I don't feel that I have plenty of time. And I know that the only simple spells I can currently use proficiently are just some basic ones, and soon this advantage will disappear too.

When I was poking my face with a quill pen and thinking about how to conclude the essay in front of me to make it satisfactory, I saw Draco walking among the library shelves. He was looking at the signs on the sides of each row of shelves (Hermione said that Hogwarts：A History records that because students used the Summoning Charm to get books in the past, which caused a lot of accidental injuries, so the school rules explicitly prohibit using spells like the Summoning Charm in the library). He seemed to be looking for books in a certain field. After watching for a while, I finally realized what was wrong: Crabbe and Goyle weren't by his side, which was rather strange. After all, I once had the crazy idea of following them to the washroom just to find Crabbe or Goyle alone. Was he looking for something that he didn't want others to know about, so he chose to act alone?

At this thought, I perked up. Although my father warned me not to mention that crazy conjecture to others anymore, his reasons didn't convince me. My father said that I made a serious accusation without evidence. Then, if I find enough evidence, or if I figure out what the "task assigned to him by the Dark Lord" that Draco boasted to other Slytherins on the train actually is, my father should take this matter seriously and tell Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix about it, right?

After the serialization of the fourth volume began, I received several more letters from readers that had been forwarded to me by the magazine after being screened. There were quite a few letters asking whether my unusual focus on what was on Draco's left hand in Madam Malkin's Robes Shop was proof that my claim in the third volume that I no longer had feelings for him was an obvious case of "saying one thing but meaning the opposite".

I think this kind of question is likely to crop up throughout this volume, because during my sixth year at school, I really spent a great deal of time trying to figure out what Draco Malfoy was up to. So I might as well give a simple explanation at the very beginning to prevent readers from having more unnecessary questions.

If I were to say that my eagerness to find out whether Draco Malfoy had truly become a Death Eater was solely for the benefit of the Order of the Phoenix, or to ensure that we wouldn't be caught off guard in future confrontations with the Dark Lord, that would sound rather cold and heartless. Although that is indeed a very important motivation—I want to do everything in my power to safeguard the safety of my parents, relatives, and friends. We have already lost so much, and at that time, I still underestimated just how cruel fate would be to people like us.

It's also inaccurate to say that I have no feelings for Draco whatsoever. As I mentioned at the end of the previous volume, completely severing all the connections between us is far more complicated than I had imagined. When people interact with one another, they inevitably leave marks in this world. Even if all the objectively erasable traces are erased, we still have our memories. And as long as those memories persist, that attempt at separation will seem more like a deliberate distancing born out of a guilty conscience. I don't deny that when I was desperately trying to determine whether Draco had really become a Death Eater, there was still a glimmer of hope within me that I could save him. I didn't want to stand by helplessly and watch as the first friend in my life plunged into the abyss of eternal damnation. This sentiment has nothing to do with love. I wonder if anyone can understand this feeling.

I made a mental note of the approximate location of the row of bookshelves that Draco had finally walked into. Just as curfew was approaching and Madam Pince started chasing people away with a scowl on her face, I quickly packed my schoolbag and rushed over there. That row of bookshelves was located near the innermost part of the library, not far from the Restricted Section. However, I was disheartened to find that the range of topics covered by those rows of books was much broader than I had expected, and they were so sparsely arranged that it was impossible to tell which book had been borrowed. It seemed hopeless to try and guess the subject matter of the book he had borrowed based on the content of the other books on the shelves.

These books all looked like thick, ancient tomes. They were rarely borrowed by students. But Madam Pince kept the library in perfect order. Even books that hadn't been opened for several years wouldn't have a speck of dust on their covers. So even if Draco had returned the book, I couldn't tell which one had been recently opened just by looking for signs of dust.

"Hey! Didn't you hear what I said?" Madam Pince, holding an oil lamp, shouted at me. Her wrinkled face was contorted with anger. "Get out of here right now!"

"Oh, sorry. I lost track of time." To avoid looking too suspicious, I randomly pulled a book from the shelf. "Er, excuse me, Madam. I searched for ages to find this... uh, Advanced Spatial Magic: The Unnoticeable Extension Charm."

She eyed me suspiciously for a few moments, and then, like an impatient eagle flapping its wings, she herded me out of the library. I hurried through an empty corridor. When I stopped to stuff the thick book I was holding into my schoolbag, I caught a whiff of an extremely strong smell of sherry. Along with it came the faint murmur of a woman.

I was so startled that I drew my wand without even fastening my schoolbag properly and ran towards the source of the smell. I saw a large pile of glistening fabrics heaped up in the corner of the corridor. After crouching down and lifting several layers of scarves, I finally saw Professor Trelawney's face. Her eyes were tightly shut, and only one temple arm of her glasses was still hanging from her ear, dangling precariously. Without those eyes magnified by the glasses to look like insect eyes and the swirling white smoke and fragrant mist of the Divination classroom, she no longer had that hazy, otherworldly look. Just like the night last year when she had almost been driven out by Umbridge, she now looked like an ordinary, down-on-her-luck woman.

At first, I thought she might have been pranked by Peeves into this state. But then I realized that she seemed to have simply passed out drunk. When she grabbed my hand and struggled to sit up, she was still clutching a grubby deck of playing cards tightly in her other hand.

"Professor?" I looked at her as she stared at me blankly, as if she couldn't figure out why she was there. "Are you okay?"

"I'm not okay!" she mumbled as she leaned in closer to me. "That centaur... As long as that centaur is in the castle, I'll never be okay!"

"Er," I tried to back away from Professor Trelawney as she leaned in, because when she opened her mouth, the stench of sherry was so strong that it seemed to be blowing right in my face. "Professor, can you stand up?"

"Destiny. Destiny has led me to be here at this moment." She seemed to be so drunk that she was completely out of her mind. She released my wrist and randomly waved her fingers in front of my eyes. "I saw it. A great storm... A great storm is coming."

She let out a loud burp and then fumbled around to find the glasses that had fallen to the ground. After refusing my offer to help her up, she staggered to her feet, leaning against the wall. Her colorful shawls and scarves still trailed on the ground, yet miraculously, she never stepped on them.

"Two of Hearts: Kindness; Seven of Hearts: The Abyss; Ten of Hearts: Variables; Queen of Hearts: A young woman with red hair... embarking on an old path that has not been trodden before." She burped as she shuffled the deck of playing cards in her hand and walked away, muttering words that made no sense at all. "Ah, it's a contradiction. This can't be right!"

I watched as Professor Trelawney disappeared at the end of the corridor before I suddenly remembered that curfew was approaching soon. I hurried a few steps, but because the buckle of my schoolbag wasn't fastened properly, the things inside spilled out all over the ground with a clatter. I was still trying to save the essay that had been mostly stained by the broken ink bottle when I heard Harry's voice: "Iris?"

"Where's Neville?" He crouched down to help me put the books that hadn't been stained by the ink back into the schoolbag. As I used my wand to suck up the ink, I asked him, "Why are you alone?"

"Professor McGonagall asked me to go to her office to get the list for the Quidditch tryouts. Neville should have already gone back to the common room." He showed me two rolled-up pieces of parchment, on which were densely written names and the positions they had applied for.

My eyes widened: "So many people? Then the tryouts will be quite a hassle, won't they?"

"Yeah." Harry stuffed the list into his pocket and used his wand to clean up the ink and glass shards on the corridor carpet. "I think even if it's well-organized, it will still take a whole morning. I originally planned to go and explain things to Hagrid next Saturday, but it seems that plan has fallen through."

I held up the essay that I had spent the whole night writing in front of the torch in the corridor. After making sure that there were no signs of it having been splashed with ink, I folded it and put it back into my schoolbag. "I've noticed that Hagrid hasn't come to the staff table for meals recently. Could it be that Professor Dumbledore has given him some task?"

"I don't think so." Harry looked a bit anxious. "Taurus, Ron, and I have run into him several times in the corridor. He just seemed like he didn't hear us when we greeted him. He's probably just angry that we didn't choose his class."

We walked up the stairs. At this time, only the senior students were still allowed to walk in the corridor. We passed a couple who were kissing in the shadow of the corner. Feeling a bit uncomfortable, I tried to find something to say. "Then we can find another time to explain things to him, after the Quidditch tryouts. With so many people applying, do you have any favorite candidates in mind?"

"I don't even recognize the faces of many of the lower-year students just from their names, let alone know how they perform on the Quidditch pitch. I'm planning to ask everyone to fly around the pitch once first." Harry shook his head. "I don't know why the team has suddenly become so popular."

I thought of Romilda Vane, whose name I had caught a glimpse of on the list just now, and muttered, "Maybe it's not the team that's popular."

"What else could be popular then?" Harry shrugged. "Quidditch is always Quidditch, and the rules aren't going to change."

"Let me think. Maybe it's someone... a captain who, under the heavy pressure of the Ministry of Magic, still insisted on accepting interviews from the newspaper and telling the truth, and together with the Boy Who Lived, informed everyone that the Dark Lord has returned, and whose father is now the highest leader of the Ministry of Magic, that's who's popular." I rocked back and forth with my hands behind my back. "Last time I went to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, George and Fred told me—"

"Told you what?" Harry laughed. "Why don't you go on?"

"I suddenly forgot." I coughed a few times and looked to the side. "Forgot."

"Oh! I never expected to run into the two of you during my evening stroll!" Just as I was wracking my brains to change the strange atmosphere of the conversation, suddenly Professor Slughorn's voice came from above our heads. He was standing on the landing of the upper floor of the stairs, waving enthusiastically at Harry and me. However, with the winding stairs, it took us a while to walk up to him, looking puzzled.

Professor Slughorn had already changed into the kind of velvet dressing gown that he had worn when we visited his house. This one was a bright ginger color, making him look like Crookshanks that had swollen dozens of times in size. He smiled and looked at me, then at Harry, just like a chubby dragon contentedly gazing at its hoard of gold. As he played with the tip of his walrus-like mustache, he smiled at us and said, "Of course, I know that things are different now. You young people are very busy and have your own ideas. So I'd like to book your time in advance. Iris, how about you and Harry coming to my place for a simple dinner next Saturday night? I'm giving you a whole week's notice. I think your schedules shouldn't be filled up for that day yet, right? Don't worry. It's just a very simple little gathering. I've invited several rising stars, McLaggen, Zabini, and the charming Melinda Bobbin. Iris, you might know her. Her family owns a large chain of pharmacies. Oh, and I also want to invite the lovely Miss Hermione Granger, but I haven't had the chance to meet her and extend the invitation in person yet!"

"Er," I didn't feel like going as soon as I heard the name McLaggen. But just as Professor Slughorn had said, it would seem too much like making an excuse if I firmly claimed that I didn't have time a whole week in advance. So how about agreeing first and then finding some other excuse? "Er, I—"

"I'm not sure, Professor," Harry replied. "Professor McGonagall asked me to arrange the Quidditch team tryouts for next Saturday. If the weather is bad in the morning, it will have to be postponed to the afternoon or even the evening. It would be very impolite if I promised you but then had to cancel at the last minute because of something related to the team. I promise you that if there's no conflict in my schedule next time, I'll definitely come, okay?"

"Oh," Professor Slughorn looked a bit disappointed. "Quidditch... I can understand that. McGonagall has always attached great importance to it. Then what about Iris?"

"We were just arguing, Professor," Harry said with an extremely vivid expression of chagrin on his face. "She said she absolutely had to be there to keep an eye on me. She even said that if she wasn't there, I'd end up choosing a whole bunch of pretty girls for the team."

"Huh! Is that true, Iris?" Professor Slughorn looked at my blushing face with great interest. "I never expected you to be like that. But you two shouldn't argue. It's normal for young girls to be more sensitive and think more. When I was at your age, I couldn't even find someone to take care of this old man like you do."

"I... I'm really worried," I had no choice but to continue with Harry's story through gritted teeth. "I think I can only go next time, Professor. I'm really sorry."

"If you don't feel like going to the Quidditch pitch next week, it doesn't matter," Harry said to me after Professor Slughorn waddled away with his big belly. "Just come up with some excuse, like having a cold or something—"

"Why wouldn't I go?" I asked him viciously while grinding my molars. "Are you really worried that I'll catch you secretly adding pretty girls to the team?"

Harry burst out laughing. The flickering light of the corridor torches was reflected in his black-rimmed glasses. Instead, I felt embarrassed by his laughter and quickened my pace, eager to get back to the Gryffindor Tower as soon as possible. When we got back to the tower, as expected, Ron and Hermione were still whispering around Neville. Taurus probably hadn't come back yet. I didn't know where he had gone to relax. After seeing Harry join them, I took a deep breath and turned around to go back to the girls' dormitory.

"The danger of Legilimency lies not only in the fact that the caster may lose themselves when entering someone else's mind but also in the objective decrease of their own ability to resist intrusion when entering another person's brain. In other words, invading others means exposing oneself."

I stared blankly at the few relatively understandable sentences in my father's notes for a long time. It wasn't until Hermione, who had returned to the dormitory, took the book Advanced Spatial Magic: The Undetectable Extension Charm that I had casually borrowed and flipped through it, asking me if I could lend it to her after I finished reading it, that I snapped out of my trance.

"Just take it and read it first," I waved my hand and smiled at Hermione. "My Transfiguration skills aren't good enough to study spatial transfiguration yet."