"It's lonely to be more powerful than any man you know."
- Merlin
Twelve years after Harry Potter defeated Voldemort and put an end to the First Wizarding War, the Wizarding world is shaken by the news that Sirius Black has escaped Azkaban. But no...
YOUR INEVITABLE DEMISE HAS REALLY TAKEN THE LIMELIGHT OFF ME ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
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Next on their schedule was Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration lesson. It took them so long to find her classroom that, early as they had left Divination, they were only just in time. Everyone's mood was a bit gloomy after the dark predictions Trelawney had made and everyone clearly tried to avoid looking at Harry.
Therefore, Harry chose a seat right at the back of the room to avoid spotlight; the rest of the class kept shooting furtive glances at him, as though he were about to drop dead at any moment. It was a little selfish, but Rhea was truly grateful all attention was off her for now.
Rhea straightened up in her seat next to Hermione when Professor McGonagall, Transfiguration teacher and head of Gryffindor House, stepped into the classroom. She was a stern-looking witch who wore her hair in a tight bun; her sharp eyes were framed with square spectacles.
According to Rhea's mother, McGonagall was a splendid teacher. Apparently she had also been rather fond of the Marauders — even if the old witch never would admit it — but not as fond as she'd been of Seraphina.
Rhea took a few notes as Professor McGonagall was telling them about Animagi, wizards who could transform at will into animals, but on her other side Harry was clearly far away in his thoughts. When McGonagall transformed herself in front of their eyes into a tabby cat with spectacle markings around her eyes no one seemed to react.
"Really, what has got into you all today?" Professor McGonagall said, turning back into herself with a faint pop, and staring around at them all. "Not that it matters, but that's the first time my transformation's not gotten applause from a class."
Everybody's heads turned toward Harry again, but nobody spoke. Then Hermione raised her hand. "Please, Professor, we've just had our first Divination class, and we were reading the tea leaves, and—"
"Ah, of course," Professor McGonagall said, suddenly frowning. "There is no need to say any more, Miss Granger. Tell me, which of you will be dying this year?"
"Me," Harry said.
"I see," Professor McGonagall said, fixing Harry with her beady eyes. "Then you should know, Potter, that Sibyl Trelawney has predicted the death of one student a year since she arrived at this school. None of them has died yet. Seeing death omens is her favorite way of greeting a new class. If it were not for the fact that I never speak ill of my colleagues—"
Professor McGonagall broke off, and they saw that her nostrils had gone white. She went on, more calmly, "Divination is one of the most imprecise branches of magic. I shall not conceal from you that I have very little patience with it. True Seers are very rare, and Professor Trelawney—" she stopped again, and then said, in a very matter-of-fact tone, "You look in excellent health to me, Potter, so you will excuse me if I don't let you off homework today. I assure you that if you die, you need not hand it in."
