Author's note: I made it through my summer courses, woo! This means I have July and August for my own projects, and I am putting this story near the top of the list. I hope that you enjoy this chapter. Please review!
Warnings: none
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I referenced pages 168-172 of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban while writing this.
Christmas
Life was relatively calm until the winter holidays arrived. It started with Hagrid wailing over the fate of Buckbeak, the hippogriff that had slashed Draco's arm earlier in the term. Severus had gone to see the half-giant, following up on an inquiry about procuring thestral saliva, and found himself greeted by an inconsolable mess. Draco's complaint to Lucius had turned into Lucius's complaint to the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, who were probably going to execute the animal because nobody on the board wanted to cross someone who had the money and social status of Lucius Malfoy. Severus had extricated himself from the clutches of a sobbing Hagrid without bringing up the reason for his visit.
The next episode occurred on Christmas day. Dumbledore had asked the house elves to replace the House tables in the Great Hall with one big table in the centre of the room. Dumbledore and the four Heads were the only teachers present, the others having gone home to go partake in festivities with their families. Filch, who had taken off his usual brown coat and was wearing a very old and rather mouldy-looking tail coat, was also there. The only students in attendance were two extremely nervous-looking Ravenclaw first-years, Jeremy Shafflow from Slytherin, and Potter, Weasley, and Granger.
"Merry Christmas!" said Dumbledore, as the three Gryffindors approached the table. "As there are so few of us, it seemed foolish to use the House tables. Sit down, sit down!"
To the Potions Master's exasperation, Dumbledore proclaimed, "Crackers!" and enthusiastically offered him the other end of a large silver one. Severus took it reluctantly and tugged. With a bang like a gunshot, the cracker flew apart to reveal a large, pointed witch's hat topped with a stuffed vulture. Severus pressed his lips together and wordlessly pushed the thing over to the Headmaster, who swapped it for his wizard's hat at once. It looked atrocious.
"Tuck in!" he advised the table, beaming.
Severus was taking a drink of water, trying to contain his distaste for the whole affair, when the doors of the Great Hall opened again. It was Professor Trelawney, gliding forwards as though on wheels. She had put on a green sequined dress, in honour of the occasion, Severus supposed, making her look more than ever like a glittering, oversized dragonfly.
"Sybill, this is a pleasant surprise!" Dumbledore said, standing up.
"I have been crystal-gazing, Headmaster," Trelawney declared in that misty, dramatic, pretentious airhead voice of hers, "and to my astonishment, I saw myself abandoning my solitary luncheon and coming to join you. Who am I to refuse the promptings of fate? I at once hastened from my tower, and I do beg you to forgive my lateness…"
"Certainly, certainly," said Dumbledore. "Let me draw you up a chair."
With a wave of his wand, a chair materialized in the air, revolving for a few seconds before falling with a thud between Minerva and Severus, much to the former's annoyance and the latter's horror. Trelawney, however, did not sit down; her enormous eyes had been roving around the table, and she suddenly uttered a soft scream.
"I dare not, Headmaster!" Severus half-expected her to clutch her chest and toss her head back as though in some trashy soap opera. "If I join the table, we shall be thirteen! Nothing could be more unlucky! Never forget that when thirteen dine together, the first to rise will be the first to die!"
"We'll risk it, Sybill," Minerva said impatiently. "Do sit down, the turkey's getting stone cold."
Trelawney hesitated, then lowered herself into the empty chair, eyes shut and mouth clenched tight, as though expecting a thunderbolt to hit the table. Minerva poked a large spoon into the nearest tureen.
"Tripe, Sybill?"
Trelawney ignored her. Eyes open again, she looked around once more and asked, "But where is dear Professor Lupin?"
"I'm afraid the poor fellow is ill again," Dumbledore replied, whilst indicating that everybody should start serving themselves. "Most unfortunate that it should happen on Christmas day."
"But surely you already knew that Sybill?" Minerva said.
"Certainly I knew, Minerva," Trelawney said, giving her colleague a very cold look. "But one does not parade the fact that one is All-Knowing. I frequently act as though I am not possessed of the Inner Eye, so as not to make others nervous."
"That explains a great deal."
Trelawney's voice suddenly became a good deal less misty. "If you must know, Minerva, I have seen that poor Professor Lupin will not be with us for very long. He seems aware, himself, that his time is short. He positively fled when I offered to crystal-gaze for him-"
"Imagine that."
Although Trelawney got on his nerves, Severus found the exchange very entertaining. After all, it was not he who was dealing with the Divination professor, and it was fun to see Minerva's feathers ruffled.
"I doubt," said Dumbledore, in a cheerful but slightly raised voice, which put an end to the conversation, "that Professor Lupin is in any immediate danger. Severus, you've made the Potion for him again?"
"Yes, Headmaster."
"Good. Then he should be up and about in no time. Derek, have you had any of these chipolatas? They're excellent."
From that point, Trelawney behaved almost normally, until the very end of Christmas dinner, two hours later. It was Potter's and Weasley's standing up that prompted her to shriek loudly, "My dears! Which of you left his seat first? Which?"
"Dunno," Weasley said, sharing a wary look with Potter. Oblivious though they were, the boys seemed to pick up on the fact that Trelawney was a basket case—although anyone with half a wit would be able to pick up on that.
"I doubt it will make much difference," Minerva interjected coldly, "unless a mad axe-man is waiting outside the doors to slaughter the first into the Entrance Hall."
Weasley and Potter took that as their opportunity to shuffle out. Miss Granger lingered.
"Professor McGonagall," she spoke up, "may I speak with you in private?"
Minerva raised her eyebrows slightly, but was disinclined to refuse her young charge, rising from the table and saying, "Of course, Miss Granger. Come with me."
As she walked away, Trelawney shook her head mournfully. "Bad things," she said, "I see bad things in her future."
"Oh, do us a favour and shut your mouth," grumbled Severus, stabbing at a piece of cherry pie with a little more force than necessary and ignoring the affronted look the witch gave him.