Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I never have and never will own Harry Potter (or anything to to with it).
A/N: This has taken a while to complete. Certain elements in it make it conflict with things stated in HBP, so, just to warn you. Again, sorry about the title. I find them hard to think of. ...But you came to read the fic, didn't you? On with the show!
Lucky
Sybill Trelawney had long ago come to the conclusion that Divination was an unappreciated art.
She had known from an early age that she was one of the rare few that had the Inner Eye. She had a special gift. She could See, really See! The future, it was open to her – winners of future Quidditch matches? Easy. Next week's, next year's weather? No problem. Out of the blue tests? Not surprising.
However, Sybill had also quickly learned that rarity often comes with resentment. At school, people only saw her gift as another reason to dislike her. They didn't care that the scrawny girl with the spectacles could tell you trivial stuff like tomorrow's weather or when your distant aunt would suddenly visit. In fact, they didn't even give a damn if she correctly predicted that one of them would be lucky in love or some other major event in their lives. It didn't matter to them. She didn't matter to them.
I still don't matter to them. Sybill thought bitterly, collapsing with a sigh on a moth-eaten armchair.
Well, it was true. All her life, through school and beyond, nobody had cared. Bar one person – her mother, Patricia Trelawney (who had died a long time ago, so what good had that done her?). Nobody cared, Sybill Trelawney didn't mean anything to them (except someone to ignore and bully). What did it matter that she was a Seer, and a good one at that? That hadn't gotten her a good job. She'd been barely scraping a living for years now. Years.
Now she had lost her job, again. Anger rose inside her every time she thought about what had happened.
"I'm sure it's not too much of a surprise," Her (now ex) Boss had sneered, "What with your 'Seeing' abilities and all."
Trelawney growled. What do you think I am? A Wizard Wireless? I instantly pick up the right thing? Moron.
She leaned over and opened a nearby cabinet, pulling out a bottle of sherry. Opening it, she gulped some of the liquid down. Ah, nothing like sherry to drown your many sorrows with.
Oh well. That guy was a loser, anyway. The job had been pathetic. She could do without it.
However, that didn't change the fact that she was now jobless, with little money, no good prospects and trying to drown her despair with alcohol.
Nope, the future did not look good.
SWOOSH!
Sybill almost dropped the bottle she was holding at the unexpected sound. Wildly looking around, she soon calmed down when she realised it was only a delivery owl.
She and the owl stared at each other for a long moment before the former started.
"Oh. Of course, you want your payment, don't you? Over there." A hand was pointed in a general direction. The owl hooted, giving her a disgusted look before swooping into the next room.
Trelawney sighed. Even an Owl hates me. My life is miserable...
She took a swig of the sherry before looking at the Daily Prophet laid pathetically on the floor. I suppose I'd better pick it up.
Bending forward, Sybill plucked the paper off the carpet and onto her lap. She glanced disinterestedly at the front page...
No, just as she'd thought. Drivel. Flicking through the pages, she found no different. Drivel, drivel, propaganda, drivel, propaganda, drivel, driv--
Hang on. Sybill froze, then slowly, slowly turned back to the previous page, slowly, not daring to believe what she'd just seen...
...There. There it was. She really was looking at an advertisement, an advertisement for a job!
Not just any job – a Divination job. At Hogwarts. Trelawney gaped at the page.
Hogwarts was looking for someone to fill the Divination post.
The perfect job opportunity was staring her right in the face!
Sybill grinned. Finally, she could get a decent job...
...But no. The grin slid off her face as something occurred to her.
How in Cassandra's name would she get the post? Also, if she managed to get it, how would she cope?
All her life, people had ignored her, put her down. If, by some miracle, she got the job... she'd become a laughing stock, that was certain. She always did. Why would this time be any different? What reason would anybody have to believe in her? Divination was an unappreciated art, after all.
Sybill was the picture of unhappiness, glumly staring ahead at the wall ahead of her. She suddenly felt like a child again, when she had fully realised that her mother was gone, gone and never to return to her...
A pang of grief shot through her and she gulped down some sherry. It did little to dull the pain.
Her mother had always said that she'd believed that her daughter was a Seer from the tender age of... hmm, what was it again? Four? ...Yes, four sounded about right. Patricia Trelawney had told her daughter that something had happened when Sybill was four, something that convinced her that her young daughter was a Seer.
Some sort of prophecy... yes, some sort of prophecy... that Sybill had prophesied...
Sybill snorted. Hah! As if I could prophesy... She had never believed it, not really – stopped entertaining the hope entirely after her mother died. But her mother... her mother had always been adamant about it.
Well, she'd never know for sure. Sybill had never been able to remember back to when she was seven, never mind a specific event when she was four.
Not like anything had ever happened like that again...
Not true. Sybill's eyes widened as she remembered something from her schooldays...
---
She was lying on the ground. Why would she be doing that?
Yes, why was she on the ground? Where was she? What had happened...?
She opened her eyes a touch and soon regretted it, groaning as the harsh light hit them.
"Wake up! Come on!"
Sybill tensed at the voice, instantly recognising it's owner. Why did she have to be here? Panic was setting in. What had she done this time?!
"Come on, Trelawney, wake up!"
Hang on, she didn't sound very angry. Almost... excited?
Sybill opened her eyes fully this time, slowly sitting up. She blinked at the sight of a group of people, crowding around her. Directly in front of her was Lesley Bass, a bully, Sybill's worst nightmare.
Her worst nightmare was grinning at her.
...Huh. Was she still dreaming?
Sybill blinked as Lesley started talking again. It was hard to catch what was being said, as she and her friends were talking at a breakneck pace.
"...And then you suddenly started speaking..."
"--Just like that!"
"In this freakish voice..."
"Even more freaky than usual!"
The parts that Sybill were picking up were steadily making less sense.
"--hoarse voice--"
"--speech--"
"--prediction--"
"--like a prophecy or something..."
...Hang on. Prophecy? What about a prophecy..?
"What...? Prophecy?"
Lesley paused and nodded. She seemed even more delighted to explain it twice. "Yes. You really were making a prophecy! It was so cool!"
The excited girl continued chattering, but Sybill had tuned out again. She merely stared straight ahead, Lesley's words reverberating in her mind.
"You really were making a prophecy!"
Her, Sybill Trelawney, prophesying...
...Hah, sure. The unlikely idea was made impossible to believe by the fact that Lesley and her 'friends' were stating it. Insisting it. Loathsome Lesley and her horrible group – the same people who had been bullying her all her school life, earlier this very same day, even. They were being nice, friendly towards her... repeatedly saying that she'd done something cool.
Sybill just couldn't believe it. There must be something in it for them. Hmm... what was the last thing she remembered?
...Talking. Yes, that was it, talking. She'd been standing nearby the same group that was talking to her now. She'd been putting some books into her bag, while Lesley and her cronies had been completely ignoring her, talking amongst themselves. Then...
Nothing. Absolutely nothing. She couldn't remember falling to the floor, being knocked out cold. She'd merely been there, then waking up on the stone floor before.
What had happened?
Could she really have prophesied?
...No, no. That was right up there (along with bullies like Lesley being nice to her) on the Things That Will Never Happen list. There was only one explanation, then. Lesley must've done something. They had deliberately ignored her, putting her into a false sense of security. Then they struck. Then they played their joke.
That must have been it, Sybill decided – though why, then, did she feel that this theory didn't quite add up?
Lesley had stopped talking, started looking at Sybill.
"Let's go. You can hang around with us. Who knows – maybe you might make another prophecy!" The girl smiled, then her friends piped up.
"Yeah, something really tragic..."
"...Or romantic..."
"Or life-changing!" They all burst into laughter.
Sybill didn't join in.
---
Yes... after that, Lesley and her disgusting gang had been really friendly, included her in everything, had hung around her all the time. Well, for a couple of weeks, anyway – when it had soon become clear that Sybill wasn't about to be making any prophecies any time soon, and that she wasn't very grateful for being treated this way. Sybill had been highly skeptical about their motives, eventually becoming convinced that it was all some great, elaborate, malicious trick – one like many that had been played before on her.
Though, no previous tricks had ever involved a statement that Sybill could actually make prophecies... she'd give them that.
Oh, well. She'd never find out the exact truth.
She'd never really know if she'd prophesied both when she was four and fifteen years old. Even though both sets of witnesses had been convinced of it... well, Lesley was hardly trustworthy, and Sybill couldn't exactly ask her mother about it (she Saw the future – she didn't speak to the dead!)
Sybill sighed, pondering, her mood swirling into melancholy...
The Divination job at Hogwarts - such an opportunity, but also double-edged. Drifting in front of her... could she, should she take it? And if she didn't take it, how was she going to make a living?
She could turn to the cards for help, but that idea was depressing. Nobody appreciated her Seeing abilities; nobody found them very important, or useful. Nobody cared. Would they ever?
Only her mother had believed in her, in her abilities... was even convinced that Sybill could prophesy
Sybill blinked.
Was even convinced that Sybill could prophesy...
...That was it! Maybe she could try for that job after all...
The plan was forming in Sybill's head. Of course, her Seeing skills would hardly impress the interviewer... but a prophecy might. If she prophesied during the interview, that would land her the job, surely?
She would have to act it well, though, to fool the great Albus Dumbledore. Sybill groaned and drank from the sherry bottle that she still gripped with one hand. It had to be him she had to fool, didn't it? The greatest wizard for however many centuries or so. He would see through her instantly...
However, Sybill still needed that job. If she needed to fake a prophecy to do it, then so be it. She would just have to fake it perfectly.
If, by some good fortune, she did happen to get the Divination post... what would she do then? What if she was met by the same resentment, the same disbelief? She'd become a laughing stock again, her gift unappreciated, her words ignored.
Anger bubbled up inside her as she briefly revisited unpleasant but all too rife memories of her past. Idiots! If only something bad had happened to one (or all) of them, and she had forseen it... how she would have gloated when what she had predicted had come true! How would they have liked it then?
They probably would've loved it; morbid lot that they were. The truth of that thought may have been debatable, but Sybill bet that they certainly would've taken notice of a warning that their lives were in danger. If they weren't morbid then they were definitely selfish.
Sybill realised that she had found her answer. All she had to do was make grim, drastic predictions. People were bored, uninterested in the mundane – however, a bit of drama...
Easier said than done. 'Mundane' and ordinary was all that Sybill seemed to See. It was once in a blue moon that she got something extraordinary.
Sybill idly twirled the bottle as she came up with the solution, not noticing that it had no sort of stopper on and so was spraying alcohol everywhere. Well, she could merely elaborate on what she did See. Some would call it 'exaggeration', she could say that it was 'stretching the truth'. People would listen, get the message, and Sybill would be listened to, considered, respected. No one would have to be the wiser...
Yes, she liked the sound of that plan. If other people didn't, then, well – it was their fault for not taking her seriously in the first place. Things were not working the way they were; she had to change. Destiny decreed it. The Universe never waited for you to catch up, after all.
Sybill smiled grimly, then raised her bottle and drained the sparse remainder of its contents.
Tomorrow, she had a letter to write.
---
Nearly a week and a half later, Sybill was sitting at a table in the Hog's Head, waiting for the arrival of Albus Dumbledore so the upcoming interview could commence. A glass half full of sherry sat on the table in front of her, ignored for the moment as Sybill examined her surroundings. Her eyes darted about the room, nervously taking in its appearance and the sparse amount of people around her. Perhaps arranging the meeting in the Three Broomsticks would have made a better impression, but her funds were too low for her to be so picky.
Trelawney had a feeling that her interviewer would be arriving soon, so she gulped down the rest of her drink and ran through a sketchy plan in her head. Answer questions, grim predictions and then the 'prophecy'. She had decided to fake her prophecy about half way through the interview (or when the likelihood of her getting the job grew low). Sybill had spent the previous evening composing and memorising her prophecy – On the seventh night of the approaching month, a golden saviour shall be born, and he shall herald in the year of the apocalypse. She was rather proud of it.
Prophecies aside for now, Albus Dumbledore had entered the room. Sybill sprang up and the two exchanged greetings. Albus spoke first when they were seated and relatively comfortable.
"I am sorry I am late, my dear. A previous appointment turned out to be longer than I had anticipated." He smiled apologetically at her.
"No, not at all. The fates had informed me that it would be so," Sybill said politely. "I hope that this meeting place is agreeable to you? It is a great deal... calmer than other places might have been. A lot of activity clouds my Inner Eye, you see." Well, she had never been fond of crowds.
"This meeting place is fine." Albus assured her. There was a brief pause before he clapped his hands and said, "Right, shall we get started?"
"Of course." Sybill nodded, growing even more nervous. The interview was under way. This was it.
---
"Now, can you tell me what you see in this crystal ball?" Albus asked, placing glass orb on the table. Sybill gazed deeply into it, soon finding herself near mesmerised by the mist that swirled inside of it.
It didn't take long before an image had appeared in it... she recognised the outside of the very pub there were in... there was a man clothed in black, being flung bodily out onto the hard, cold stone outside...
Remember... stretch the truth when needed, make it mean something. "There is a man," Sybill began mistily, adding in a pause for drama, "A man, a dark man. He will be thrown out of this pub, for some grave offence..." The image in the crystal ball faded away and she looked at Dumbledore to signal that she was finished.
"Right." Albus nodded, but did not seem very impressed. It had been the same, ever since the interview had started. Whatever she did, whatever she told him, he either exuded an aura that was either completely nonplussed or not at all impressed. The interview wasn't going as well as she'd hoped.
"Well, I do believe that I have no more questions. Thank you very much for your time." With those words, Albus stood up. No, this interview was definitely not going to end well.
"No, but, I..." Sybill stood also, her heart already beginning to sink. "I don't have the job, do I?" She looked at Albus, praying she was wrong.
"I'm sorry, Sybill, but I don't think that you are the most suitable candidate for the position." Albus gave her a look that could be described as pitying, and began to leave.
No, she hadn't been wrong, then. She sat back down, in some shock. She had been so certain... that she had a chance, that she'd get this job. Truthfully, she needed this job. How could it have slipped away from her?
There's only one thing left that you can do. A part of her mind told her. The prophecy. You have to fake a prophecy. It's your last chance. However, Sybill no longer knew if she could. At first she had just thought it was shock, or nerves, but now... she was really beginning to feel odd.
So odd that her vision was blurring. Sybill blearily felt for her glasses, which were perched on her nose, as usual. "Strange..." She murmured, feeling vaguely irritated. She'd only purchased those glasses recently and it seemed like she needed new ones. She liked her current ones, too...
"Sybill? Are you...?"
Sybill Trelawney never heard Albus' question; white had already engulfed her and she knew no more.
---
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ..."
---
Sybill came to slowly to find Albus Dumbledore sitting on the chair opposite her. She blinked, took a moment to take in and remember her surroundings. She was at the Hog's Head... yes, the interview... the job interview that hadn't gone well. What had happened then? All she could remember was... white. That blinding white in her mind, driving everything else out...
Albus... what was he still doing here? Didn't he already leave? He mustn't have, since he was sitting opposite her, regarding her intently. Something dawned on Sybill – she'd just zoned out in front of the Albus Dumbledore! What in Cassandra's name had she been thinking?!
"I must apologise, Albus. I wasn't feeling very well..." That explanation was the best she could come up with, because Sybill wasn't quite sure what had happened to her. She was vaguely aware of the uncouth barman storming in, explaining to Albus that he had 'thrown him out' (whoever he was).
Albus, perhaps for something to say or to answer the little curiosity she felt, murmured to her, "Severus Snape. Caught eavesdropping." He seemed as distracted as she was. He appeared to be thinking, an unreadable expression on his face.
So, Severus Snape was eavesdropping, was he? Sybill voiced her question aloud, "On who?"
"Us." Albus replied. "Part of our conversation."
Trelawney wasn't that surprised. She knew that Snape had been looking for a job, lately. Perhaps he had wanted a word with Dumbledore, or wanted to pick up tips...? It doesn't matter, anyway. It's not like I got it. They were bitter thoughts, but true.
She rose, preparing to take her leave. Albus rose also.
"Well, my dear, I do believe I have made a grave mistake." He began, his eyes twinkling. "I should very much like you to be the Divination teacher at Hogwarts, if you will accept the position."
Sybill froze, hardly daring to believe what he had just said. "I thought... I thought you said I wasn't suitable?"
"Indeed I did." He agreed, before adding, "However, I believe you have proved me wrong."
"Well, I..." Sybill breathed, momentarily lost for words. Slowly, a smile spread across her face. "I accept. I accept the Divination post."
"I had hoped you might say that." Albus smiled back. There was an affable silence, which Dumbledore soon broke. "I'm afraid I must take my leave now. I shall see you a week before the new school term, my dear!"
"May fate treat you well until then." Sybill said, watching him exit the pub. A couple of minutes later, she decided to take her leave, too. She did so in a much better mood than she had been for a long time. It had briefly slipped away from her, but now... now she had a decent, a good job! What a stroke of good luck she'd had. Perhaps her life wasn't so bad, after all.
END
A/N: That's it. I hope you enjoyed it. Feedback (of the constructive criticism variety) is always appreciated, whereas flames are not. Thanks for reading!