Chapter 53: Mortal or Deity

"Ah, Weasley boy!" Filch made his proclamation with a notable sneer, a biting emphasis on the surname, his voice heavy with loathing. Such was Filch's distaste for any student with the familial moniker of Weasley, reasons for which were abundantly familiar throughout Hogwarts.

Each time he was compelled to utter the name, he'd noticeably grind his teeth. Usually, at the sight of Filch obstructing their path, Harry and Ron would instinctively bristle, while Hermione would immediately suspect her companions had found mischief to court.

Yet, on this occasion, such concerns seemed far from their minds. Each of them, Harry, Ron, Hermione alike, wore a peculiar look of anticipation that had poor Filch feeling remarkably disquieted himself.

"What's with the strange expressions?" Filch bristled, taken aback. "Are you trying to intimidate me?" Battered by the perennial mischievous antics of George and Fred Weasley, Filch had learned to regard the Weasley offspring with a reasonable level of wariness.

Ron appeared unmoved by Filch's defensive posturing, his impatience getting the better of him. "Alright, Filch, what's the matter? Why'd you pull me aside? Don't mince words, or we're leaving." His abrupt retort made Filch eye the trio suspiciously, unsure of their intentions but not seeing any cause for immediate alarm.

"The trophy room you were given the punishment of cleaning last time had a poor showing, Weasley. The trophies in the back were left dusty for my dismay. I've spoken with Professor McGonagall. You are to revisit the task today, no leaving until I've deemed it satisfactorily clean!"

Hardly had the words left Filch's mouth, he braced himself, fully ready for an onslaught of protests, expecting Ron to resist or escape judgment even perhaps dragging his friends along in his escape effort. He primed himself to pounce and apprehend the youngster.

To his surprise, however, no such resistance came. Instead of protesting, Ron and Harry looked thrilled, utterly overjoyed with the prospect of the freshly imposed punishment.

"I haven't broken any rules!"

"And yet, Filch caught you... and punished you!"

Their boldly expressed jubilation left Filch utterly flabbergasted.

"Do you...enjoy punishments, then?" Filch stuttered, lost for words.

Despite this spectacle, Hermione, who was just as thunderstruck, murmured to herself, "This is reality... all because of Professor Forester..."

With that realization, a shift occurred in her perspective. All the preceding 'coincidences,' how could they be classified as such anymore? Was this still a mere chance event?

Ron had been obedient, not violated any regulations. His punishment was due to inadequate cleaning of the trophy room, nothing shocking in that. Yet, this event miraculously unfolded immediately after Professor Forester predicted that Ron could avoid tangling with Filch till Christmas, provided he did not break school rules.

When consecutive instances of highly improbable events kept coinciding with Forester's predictions, could they really be labeled just coincidence?

"Sherlock is definitely influencing this!"

"Quit messing about, the three of you!" Filch's mix of confusion and irritation were clear to all. "Regardless, you still have to clean that trophy room, Weasley. There's no dodging this punishment!"

Instead of the usual agitation, Ron beamed with delight.

"Gladly! I'll happily accept punishment! Meet me back in the common room, I'll finish soon!" Ron's excitement was so potent, he radiated pure joy, ecstatic as if he'd been granted a new wand. With Filch tailing behind, still wearing a puzzled look belonging to those who've just been presented with a conundrum, he left.

Harry and Hermione continued their course towards the Gryffindor common room.

"You still don't think this is a coincidence, do you Hermione?" Harry inquired with a gleam of triumph in his eyes, his excitement palpable.

Given the blatantly evident circumstances, Hermione found it challenging to deny her convictions.

"I don't understand how there can exist an anomaly like Forester. No matter what he states, the opposite always manifests. Has he just resigned himself to this persistent disappointment? How has he managed to cope with such an existence?"

Harry mused over her confusion for a moment.

"Now it makes sense as to why Professor Forester always appears so aloof and distant. Living through a lifetime of such letdowns would've driven me to madness ages ago. You certainly would have much to smile about."

"But do you think the professor himself knows about his...curse?" Hermione suddenly posed this question.

Harry, after scratching his head, replied.

"Probably not. If he did know, he would've caught on to our little experiments, thereby putting a halt to our testing."

As they leisurely waited in the Gryffindor common room for Ron's return, Hermione broached another idea after a moment's pause.

"We need to keep testing!"

Harry looked genuinely surprised.

"But haven't we proven enough that Professor Forester is a harbinger of misfortune? What else is there to experiment?"

Hermione declared solemnly, "It's not that simple, what if the prediction is about something impossible?"

"Suppose he states something as common as the sun rising every day from the east, does that mean the sun would rise from the west the next day?"

Harry's mouth dropped open wide enough to fit Hagrid's hefty fist upon hearing her proposed experiment. He hadn't expected Hermione to take such an extraordinary leap in reasoning.

"No, that's absurd. If that were to hold true, he'd be nothing short of a god!" Harry exclaimed, astounded.

"What if Professor Forester is indeed cursed as we suspect, and we ask him about the sun's path, only for the sun to rise from the west the next day? What then?"

Hermione, displaying the spirit of a true scientific mind, reasoned, "We can't run such an experiment with risky consequences. We should downgrade the scale but keep the essential theme intact."

Settling down once again in the common room, after discussing with Ron who had just finished his punishment, they agreed upon a new test for the following day.

Meanwhile, Professor Sherlock Forester, blissfully unaware of the upcoming experiment his students had masterminded, had locked himself in his office, completely engrossed in grading senior essays, not at all guessing his students' intention - to test the possibility of him, with his magical curse, reversing the direction where the sun rises.