𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘓𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. | Harry Potter.

|| 04 ||

══✿══

.
.

"Are you sure you're alright, y/n?"  Blaise asked, nudging her as they walked towards the Transfiguration classroom.

"I am." Y/n mumbled, her black robes billowing behind her like a ghostly cape. "Not." She finished.

"Just trying to figure out what Professor Trelawney saw in my teacup. She disappeared before I could ask."

"Everyone was in a right tizzy about it. Maybe you can catch her after class next time." Blaise suggested, already starting to think about the day's lesson.

"Sure." Y/n muttered, ignoring the curious stares from other students.

The classroom felt stiflingly hot as y/n entered. She spotted Harry at the back, looking like he was under a spotlight, with everyone else shooting furtive glances his way.

And of course, Professor McGonagall made y/n sit right at the front, in the middle of the room, which left y/n a little confused.

"Well, now, what's got into all of you today?" Professor McGonagall said, transforming back into her human form with a faint pop. "Not that it matters, but it's the first time my transformation hasn't been met with applause. Honestly, are you all just staring into space?"

Y/n's eyes locked with the professor's, who seemed to sense y/n's intense gaze. "And you, Miss Riddle. I can feel something's not quite right."

"Everything's fine, Professor." Y/n replied coolly.

"Something is on your mind." Professor McGonagall said, her gaze unwavering. The rest of the class seemed to be holding their breath, waiting to see what would happen.

Y/n furrowed her brow a little. "Nothing, really. Just a bit... distracted from that peculiar Divination lesson."

Professor McGonagall narrowed her eyes. "And what exactly was so peculiar about that 'peculiar' lesson, Miss Riddle?"

"None of your business."

Hermione suddenly raised her hand. "Professor, please, we just had Divination, and, like, we were reading the tea leaves and—"

Professor McGonagall turned her attention to Hermione "Ah, yes, Miss Granger. There's no need to explain further. Tell me, which one of you will be dying this year?"

The class went silent.

"Me." Harry's voice cut through air.

Professor McGonagall's cat-like eyes narrowed, her gaze pinning Harry. "I see. Then you must know, Potter, that Professor Trelawney has been predicting the death of a student every year since she arrived at this school. None of them have actually croaked yet, mind you. It's just... well, I never speak ill of my colleagues –"

She paused, her eyes flitting back to y/n, who looked almost done and want nothing but to go back to her dorm.

Professor McGonagall, suddenly switching gears, asked, her voice sharp "Do any of you here know who the clueless daughter is?" But her eyes was fixed on y/n.

Y/n arched an eyebrow. "No, Professor."

Professor McGonagall, knowing full well she didn't have a clue, continued, "Just a word of caution, everyone. This year feels a bit off. Be careful who you hang out with."

The class stared at y/n, their faces a mix of confusion and curiosity. Y/n, however, felt a surge of frustration. She felt like McGonagall was talking about her.

Typical. But y/n held her expression tight, unamused. The professor might be talking about her, but y/n wouldn't give the professor the satisfaction of seeing her react.