Minerva McGonagall was not pleased. She had spent the last four months being as little pleased as she ever had in her whole career of education. It was not the quality of the work exhibited by her students that was the matter but the manner in which the school was run. Every time she looked upon Severus Snape, whether at mealtimes or when she was summoned to a head of House meeting, her lips would purse and become nearly white. Every time she looked upon the siblings Carrow, her eyes would narrow to almost a point, and she could not control the disdainful look from coming across her face.
This Christmas feast, when the Great Hall was practically empty, Professor McGonagall could not help but list the differences between the current headmaster and the greatest one that Hogwarts had ever seen. This man, a bat disguised as a human being, had so betrayed the Order's trust that his presence here afterward was like rubbing it constantly in their faces. This man, whom she had highly regarded as a fine potions master and respected as a head of House, was the antithesis of what Dumbledore had been to the school. Dumbledore's murderer had succeeded him on the headmaster's chair of honor.
Snape sat glumly in his place of honor, and McGonagall could only look with disdain upon this. She had decided to remain at the school to protect the students here, but it was such a trial with the enemy sitting beside her. The few students that had stayed behind for the Christmas break mainly kept to themselves, and there was no mingling of the staff and students. The teachers were placed up high, and the unworthy Carrows held seats that had been the chairs of much better men.
After the meal was over, McGonagall rose almost immediately and left the Hall. It had felt like Azkaban in there, devoid of emotion and hopeless.