"It's..." she states in the most dramatic voice she can muster, "I'm sorry to have to say, but it's The Grim...."
The Divination's teacher applauds loudly and beams at the sixth year sitting hunched uncomfortably over a tea cup.
"Correct!" The professor pats her on the back and moves to walk up the aisle of desks to the chalkboard, "now why do you suppose..."
The lecture continues and the seemingly intelligent witch tunes out the high pitched voice of the professor as she stares balefully down at the tea leaves she is supposed to have just correctly read. This student is one of the brightest witches in her House, receiving excellent marks in every single one of her classes. There is one, however, that she really ought to be failing. Unfortunately, it is the one subject that she will be forced to study for the rest of her life, study and live. Sibyll Trelawney is the descendant of one of the Wizarding World's most famous seers, and yet she cannot even read what the weather will be like the next day out of a lousy pile of tea leaves. She once interpreted a dream about animated sinks to mean that one of her friends was going to sprain her ankle - which she did, the very next day, but that was probably due to the fact that it was mid-December and quite icy out - but other than that she has proven to be an utter failure at it. Her father forces her to continue pursuing a career in the arts of Divination, and her professor is so awe-struck ("the great-great-granddaughter of Cassandra Trelawney is in my class!") that she barely notices Sibyll's lack of talent. Whatever Sibyll says is truth, something that causes the other students to dislike her more, and causes Sibyll to try to find ways to get out of it.
"Class dismissed! Hopefully you will all find enough time to do the homework as well as Miss Trelawney! I require an essay on the history of Oracles by Friday!" The professor smiles in a motherly way at Sibyll as the rest of the students pile out of the classroom, mostly discussing whether they are going to go to Hogsmeade that weekend, or who had been caught snogging in the broom closet. She tunes out, gathers her things and slowly descends the stairs.
Truth be told, if she could do anything in the world, it would be healing. She is fascinated by the thousands of remedies that have popped up through history, and desires nothing more than to learn how every single one works. She realizes she will have to work on her bedside manner if she is to do this - she tends to shy away from most human contact, apart from her friend Elizabeth, a fellow Ravenclaw who is just as strange as Sibyll - but she promises herself she will. Sometimes, though she doesn't tell anyone not even Elizabeth, she puts Delphi - her cat - on her bed and stands there, practicing what she would say to patients with various maladies.
"Oh dear, Mrs. Ingle, it seems as though those boils might be there longer than we thought. No matter! If you turn to the side you can hardly see them!"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Snee, but your son's leg will have to be amputated." At this point, she sits down and tries to provide comfort within the boundaries of professionalism. Delphi makes noises and slinks away, irritated at having been harassed.
The situations are always ridiculous, and sound like something off of the soap operas that her mother diligently listens to on the radio, but she feels they help her with her social awkwardness. She's quite willowy, with reddish hair that sticks out in all directions no matter what it has been charmed with. Plus, she has been cursed with the need for an incredibly strong prescription of glasses. To make matters worse, her father refuses to buy frames for the lenses, and makes sure that they fit the over-sized pair that he wore in his youth. They go practically over her eyebrows and below her nose. She feels she looks a bit like a fly in a magnifying glass. Thus, she doesn't very much like being in social situations. At sixteen, girls are catty with each other anyway. This is something she prefers to not be a part of. She really couldn't care less who is dating Sirius Black, or what disgusting thing Severus Snape said to a Gryffindor first-year. She and Elizabeth prefer to spend their time sitting in the Common Room with hot chocolate, reading wizarding literature aloud in silly voices. It's the only time she truly feels accepted.
Nearing the library, Sibyll sidles into an aisle containing books on herbal properties. She chews on her bottom lip as she runs her fingers over the spines of all of the books she has already practically memorized. Seeing one she hasn't, she stretches over to pluck it from its precarious position on the shelf, only to find that she did so much too jauntily and has spilled the entire contents of her school bag into the lap of a sixth year Gryffindor who was sitting on the floor reading a book of the same subject matter.
"Oh no!" Sibyll cries, scrambling to retrieve her lost items. Stuffing them back in the bag she looks at the other student only to realize who it is. The blood drains from her face only to rush back in the form of a crimson blush. "I'm so-sorry...Remus..." She stammers incoherently, making a fool of herself.
Remus Lupin quickly stashes the book he was reading into his own bag and stands up quickly. "Don't worry about it, no harm done." He says in a rushed tone, backing out of the row of books, "I'm fine. I really must go though." He says, turning around and moving as fast as he possibly can out of the library.
Sibyll is mortified. She puts the last of her quills and parchment in the bag and slumps down beside the bookcases. "He obviously thinks I'm disgusting and would never want to talk to me." She sniffs to herself, hugging her bag and watching him leave, in between the shelves. On the bright side, however, it is the first time she has spoken more than "hello" in muffled tones to him. This is something she will think about later, as she goes repeats the conversation to Elizabeth over and over again as they dissect every possible meaning from it.