The Queen of Vipers || Fred Weasley

I.XI

Electra wasn't sure how other Christmas feasts had gone in the past, but this one had to be the oddest yet.

Professor McGonagall dragged Electra to the Great Hall for the Christmas luncheon with the remaining staff members and six students left in the castle. "It'll do you some good getting out of bed," she'd said as she led Electra through the dungeons. "Wilhelmina would want you to enjoy the holiday."

Hearing the old woman's name was like a prick of a needle. And it didn't help her sullen mood. Neither did the appearance of Professor Trelawney.

She hated that Seeing woman. And not just because she liked to predict how grim Electra's future was going to be (though that played a part), but because something about her very being was unsettling. Electra had almost jumped out of her seat when the batty teacher showed up for the Christmas feast.

Electra had only endured a week of that woman's class before dropping out, nothing more. There was no explaining the dizzying sensation she would get while in her insufferably hot, musky room. And the sickening accuracy of her assessment of her try at tessomancy with Lee Jordan's tea leaves. She had seen something involving his throat and a great sense of guilt; he got laryngitis the day of the first Quidditch match and some mouthy Slytherin seventh year commentated the match, which Gryffindor claims is the reason they were so distracted and lost.

She supposed it made sense as to why that had been so easy for her now. But she still found it unsettling. And the professor even more so.

The stench of her incense clung to her many layers of scarves and wafted off her as she floated into the Great Hall, burning Electra's nostrils. Dumbledore had already greeted her. "Let me draw you up a chair—"

Electra silently thanked Dumbledore for conjuring up a chair for her beside McGonagall and Snape and far away from herself.

Trelawney hesitated, going on about how thirteen dining together being bad luck or something, but all Electra could focus on was holding down the turkey until the professor sat far away from her. Professor McGonagall had just as much patience for the other woman as Electra did. "We'll risk it, Sybill. Do sit down, the turkey's getting stone cold."

Mercifully Trelawney sat down. But Electra's ears perked again. "But where is dear Professor Lupin?"

"I'm afraid the poor fellow is ill again," said Dumbledore, sitting back down and waving his hand over the luncheon spread. "Most unfortunate that it should happen on Christmas Day."

"But surely you already knew that, Sybill?" said McGonagall, baiting the other professor.

She took it. "Certainly I knew, Minerva. 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 made Electra's stomach do a sickening somersault. She wondered if the professor was being truthful. Because if she was, Electra knew that feeling all too well.

Professor McGonagall retorted back with a sarcastic comment and Electra was suddenly reminded why she liked her so much.

Professor Trelawney grew testy. "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—"

Electra could almost feel McGonagall's force of will to not roll her eyes. "Imagine that."

Dumbledore interjected, ending their conversation before it became a Christmas quarrel. But for the first time, Electra was glad to hear from Trelawney. If her inkling was right about him, this just confirmed it.