Thinking about it carefully, William really couldn't find anyone to guard Kabuda, so he decided to go back and try his latest technology. But before that... William stuffed the chicken on the fork into his mouth. It was a bit dry, but still edible. He looked up, just about to speak—
"Click—"
The Great Hall doors opened again, and a giant sparkling dragonfly slid towards them... wait, that was Professor Trelawney. In celebration of the holiday, she wore a green dress encrusted with metallic sequins, dazzlingly green.
"Sybill, what a delightful surprise!"
Dumbledore stood up and said, swallowing the tripe in his mouth.
"Sorry, I was gazing into the crystal ball, Headmaster."
Professor Trelawney said in her most ethereal voice, sounding slightly faint. "Most surprisingly, I saw myself abandoning my solitary meal to join your gathering. Oh, how could I refuse the signs of fate? So I hurried down from my tower, asking for your pardon for my tardiness..."
"Of course, of course, of course not!"
There was a twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes as he waved his magic wand, "Let me get you a chair—" The next moment, a chair appeared out of thin air in the air beside him, spun for a few seconds, and landed with a thud between Snape and McGonagall.
However, Professor Trelawney didn't sit down immediately. She looked around the table with eyes magnified by her thick glasses and suddenly let out a low scream, drawing everyone's attention.
"I dare not, Headmaster! If I sit at the table, there will be ten... one, two, three, four, five..."
She apparently counted everyone in the Great Hall again and continued in an exaggerated tone, "... the seventeenth! That is the most unfortunate number next to thirteen! Don't forget, whenever seventeen people dine together, the first person to stand up—"
"I've never heard such a thing, and of course we're willing to take the risk, Sybill." Professor McGonagall interrupted Trelawney's nerve-wracking monologue loudly, her voice full of impatience, "Now sit down before the turkey turns to stone."
Professor Trelawney hesitated for a moment, then slowly sat down on the empty chair, closed her eyes, and pursed her lips tight, as if waiting for lightning to strike the table and turn them all into charcoal. "Dong—" Professor McGonagall inserted a large ladle into a nearby soup bowl, making a sound.
"Lamb, Sybill?"
But Professor Trelawney ignored her. She opened her eyes, looked around, and softly said, "But where is our dear Professor Lupin?"
"Oh, probably dead."
Snape curled his lips maliciously, seemingly very willing to see such an event.
"No, the poor fellow just happened to be sick for Christmas."
Dumbledore shook his head, then turned to look at William, "Mr. Richard, you haven't forgotten to prepare a magic potion for that poor man, have you?"
"Of course, a new mango-flavored one."
William nodded, noticing Snape suddenly casting a hostile look at him. "Hope Professor Lupin isn't allergic to mango." William said as he casually stood up and brought the mango pudding from the other side of the table to himself.
Hmm... not too sweet, but tastes okay.
"But you knew already, didn't you, Sybill?"
Professor McGonagall suddenly raised her eyebrows and asked, her sharp gaze seemed ready to start a fight.
Professor Trelawney gave Professor McGonagall a cold glance.
"I did know, Minerva." She said indifferently, "But I never boast of my omniscience. I often pretend not to have the Inner Eye to avoid making others nervous."
"That explains a lot."
Professor McGonagall said with a sarcastic "Ha."
Thus, Professor Trelawney's voice suddenly became less ethereal.
"If you must know, Minerva, I have seen that poor Professor Lupin won't be with us much longer. He probably realizes he doesn't have much time left as well because he hurried away when I showed him the crystal ball—"
"Well, imagine that."
Professor McGonagall's tone remained flat.
"But I have my doubts."
Dumbledore interjected, his tone light and cheerful, but he raised his voice slightly enough to end the back-and-forth between Professor McGonagall and Professor Trelawney, "I do not believe Professor Lupin is in any imminent danger... Derek, have you tried these little sausages? They are excellent."
The first-year student suddenly cued by Dumbledore blushed and nervously took the plate of sausages with trembling hands.
"... Is there really a such a thing as a Prophet?"
After the exchange between the two professors, Hermione suddenly leaned close to William's ear, whispering so that her warm breath tickled William's ear.
"Yes."
William instinctively shrank his neck but then nodded, his gaze shifted to a certain old man trying to lower his presence - based on his understanding, Grindelwald was indeed a Prophet. It was because, in his youth, he saw in a prophecy that he would become the ruler of the Magical World, that he pursued the Deathly Hallows so madly.
Grindelwald seemed to sense this and looked up, meeting William's gaze with a puzzled look, but William just smiled and then pointed to another diminutive old man beside Dumbledore.
"..."
Grindelwald lowered his head, seeming very speechless about William's childish provocation. His response made William often wonder whether this old man was really the notorious Dark Lord who stirred up so much trouble in Europe during World War II. He seemed a bit too laid-back.
Is time really the great equalizer?
"So, is Professor Trelawney really a Prophet?"
Hermione's questions apparently hadn't ended yet. She was somewhat surprised by William's straightforward answer, beginning to speculate on where William had encountered a prophet. But she continued asking about her most intriguing topic, "Professor McGonagall seems... uh, not very convinced?"
"But Dumbledore acknowledges it, though I wouldn't recommend you continue Divination."
William shook his head without directly answering. Although he indeed knew Trelawney was a Prophet, she obviously couldn't control that ability, meaning the prophecies she usually made were purely actions to maintain her mystique—
"But she is indeed the great-granddaughter of the renowned Prophet Cassandra, and there are certainly precedents of hereditary talent in this profession that requires innate abilities."
William added, but he didn't mention having witnessed Trelawney's prophecy, which he promised Old Bee to keep a secret.
"Oh, alright."
Hermione's knife and fork clinked lightly as she started to think deeply about William's suggestion. Though she used Divination classes for completing homework, as long as it remained on her schedule, her desire to maintain perfect attendance meant she inevitably had to rely on the Time Turner—recently, Hermione became aware of the downsides of overusing that tool.
In just four months of the school year, more than a year had passed for Hermione. She had grown taller in that time. Lately, she frequently dreamt about herself turning into an old lady, although she suspected those were dreams William intentionally made her have. William quickly dispelled her suspicions.
How? You ask how he dispelled them?
Simple, all we need is a well-placed Confundus Charm.
Yes, William did it. Considering the frequency Hermione used it at the beginning of the school year, she could probably turn of age in less than a year—initially, William thought of capitalizing on his employee, but unexpectedly the employee worked harder than him. To prevent a certain Professor Meow from catching onto this, William decided to eliminate the issue himself.
He didn't want to be hung on a lamp post.
During the next two hours of Christmas dinner, Professor Trelawney behaved relatively normally, aside from occasional shrieks.
After the long lunch ended, William returned to his dorm room, which was so tidy it began to gather dust, and traveled through the flipped fireplace back to the Room of Requirement. Seeing Lupin grilling meat alone on the balcony, he hesitated for a moment and then accepted the lamb skewer Lupin handed over...
Hmm, still not full.