Intro:
Idiosyncracy. By definition, the word means a behavior or characteristic that is peculiar to an individual. Everyone has an idiosyncracy or two and Sybil Trelawney is no exception.
One of her many peculiar traits is her insistence on predicting at least one death at the beginning of every year. More often than not it is to one of her many students. She also has a tendency to be very eccentric and overreact to the littlest things. She always has to be wearing at least seven bangles or shawls; all varying in color. One for each of the seven centers or chakras of the human body. Often times when she is bored she will use mundane items as means to base a "prophecy" off of. Making predictions more off of the likelyhood of things playing out. Putting an idea into the heads of those whom she gives her prophecy and basically letting them do the rest. She is always at least ten minutes late to a staff meeting. She hates anything that is in the color of fucshia and hates the smell of lilac because it reminds her too much of her mother. Who wasn't altogether loving to Sybil due to her "condition". She writes with her left hand but, does everything else with her right hand. She fidgets and stammers when she is nervous or unsure of herself; which is often. Sybil is a habitual sniffer, even when she is healthy. She prefers jasmine tea over darjeeling and prefers Perdo Ximenez over anything else. For those of you that don't know, PX is a white Spanish wine grape variety that is used to make a very sweet dessert sherry. She likes to sleep on the left side of the bed and always has to keep at least one light on. She detests the taste of vinegar and I'm willing to bet you didn't know that she dots her I's with little swirls.
Sybil spends most of her spare time in her tower at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; where she teaches Divination about three times a week. She feels infierior to her colleagues and knows that she is looked down upon by most of them. Her position at the school is shakey at best and she is at risk of losing it with almost every step she takes. Anxiety attacks are a given for her and when in the presence of others, she chalks it down to the atmosphere's affects on her 'inner eye'. She drowns her sorrows in sherry nearly every chance she gets. Depression is one of her only friends. Did you know she cries herself to sleep most nights? At least she does when she hasn't drunk herself into a stupor.
Forgive me, I seem to be rambling now and I have realized that I have yet to indroduce myself. My name is Larissa Anne Bailey. Most people call me Lara, so I suppose you can too. And now that that is out of the way I do believe that we should move on with our story. My thought process on the subject of our dear Divination Professor was getting rather melancoly, wouldn't you say? I could go on and on with this way of thinking, however I am sure that by now you are wondering why I am telling you all these things or why any of it even matters. Well, the simple answer to that is this. For every fake prophecy. Every exaggerated move of her hands. For all of her strange little quirks that send my heart racing faster than a seeker on the newest racing broom. I love her.
I love her with all my heart and with every aspect of my very soul. Needless to say I shall continue to do so until my last breath. And that simple fact is the very reason why I married her.
But, I am afraid I am getting ahead of myself. Let us first go to the most important part of any good story. The beginning. Our story begins with one of the most crucial aspects of nearly any and all European life.
It begins, with a cup of tea.
End of 1st person POV... To be continued...