This themed story is for Slytherin House, prompt being "You're lying,"(speech) -1,374 words
Sybill Trelawney never had a place to call home before Hogwarts.
Her mother did not understand her magic, which made her distance herself from her only daughter and hold onto religious beliefs with death-like grip, often eyeing her daughter and husband crossly for 'practicing evil', and suffering from seemingly random personality shifts. She would swing from adoring her daughter's magic to… well, the word 'hatred' did not do the situation justice.
At those times, she would shriek at her cowering daughter: "What devilry are you doing, girlie!" Sybill would stutter that she didn't know and get a slap for the troubles, followed by the enraged "Liar! Filthy little liar! You're lying, I know you are!"
Her father, on the other hand, did not seem capable of dealing with his daughter's sporadic blackout episodes, her burgeoning magic or his wife's increasingly unstable behavior.
"You know how she is," he would murmur into Sybill's hair afterwards as he held her close. "Just hang on a little while, and then you'll go to Hogwarts."
The rest of her family who could've taken Sybill away for even a short period of time was either dead or her parents had severed contact with them long ago, mostly due to her mother's despisal of Cassandra Trelawney and her gift, so it was a relief when the heavy, green ink-addressed letter landed on the Trelawney's front porch. Hogwarts was the perfect opportunity for Sybill to escape and, what mattered more than anything, find people who would not judge her because of her magic.
Her clairvoyance was a completely different matter. However, her father had forewarned her about that, so she kept quiet, only utilising her Gift in the dead of the night, perched high in the North Tower. She did not mind her classmates looking at her strangely for her passion for Divination, nor the careful looks the faculty gave her for choosing such 'wooly' subject.
The only one who had any inkling about her Gift was the Transfiguration professor, Minerva McGonagall, who had found her asleep in the North Tower two weeks before her N.E.W.T.s. She let her off easy, with only fifty points taken from Ravenclaw, but expressed her intense dislike for Divination, due to her not believing future was set in stone. Sybill was actually happy that someone was being blunt enough to tell it to her face - life wasn't complete without someone who would disagree with you on principle, and having found someone like that at Hogwarts just made it more of a home.
The comfort Hogwarts provided her did not end with her graduation: wherever she tried to settle down, she constantly sought out that intangible aura of security and warmth no place on this Earth seemed to be able to replicate. That lack of security she felt was the main reason - and not her own over-inflated pride in her clairvoyance as many had thought it to be - why she wrote the letter to her former Headmaster, politely requesting an interview for the Divination post.
She instantly knew the old man was not impressed by her acting skills, nor by her distinguished bloodline. For the first time in nearly a decade since she had left Hogwarts, she felt doubt about herself, in her supposed Gift…
And then, she was blinking up at the Headmaster, feeling rather dizzy, and seeing his eyes lose the twinkle for a second. She grew worried. Did she black out again, like she used to when she was younger?
"It seems I was wrong, Miss Trelawney," he told her with a smile and radiating warmth. "You are qualified for the Divination post."
Sybill could barely believe her ears. She was going to get the post? But… She decided not to question Lady Fate.
"Thank you, Headmaster," and she meant every word as grabbed his sleeve. "Thank you."
"No, thank you, Sybill," Headmaster shook his head, eyes twinkling madly and smile on his lips, "for proving me wrong."
The next fifteen years Sybill spent thanking Lady Fate for the existence of Albus Dumbledore. Without him she wouldn't be here, in her own little kingdom, wrapped in a little cocoon of safety. Even the distance she maintained with most of her colleagues and the ongoing argument with Minerva could not diminish the feeling of belonging. The North Tower, once a favorite place from which she could divine from the stars, became both her home and her classroom.
She was more than aware most of the students chose her subject because they would not force themselves to apply to more complicated subjects, but she did not care. She always managed to find someone with a modest aptitude for Divination to share her passion with, and those clearly marked by Fate she could observe. After all, most of the students whose death she had 'foretold' went on to become successful people.
In a way, she had dared them to prove her wrong, and they had risen to the challenge marvelously.
So far, only Cedric Diggory had died early, but not before becoming Hogwarts' Triwizard champion, ensuring his name would be remembered for ages to come.
That being said, she could not believe her eyes when she received her letter of dismissal from that… that woman. She had heard some of her students refer to her as Toad, but even at her lowest she couldn't force herself to call her that. It could lead to… unwanted accidents. Of the amphibian kind.
Anyway. The letter. That woman did not only fire from the only job she could honestly say she liked, but ordered her to leave the premises. Leave! Leave her only home! Everything inside her rebelled at the thought, but she couldn't stop the demon that was Dolores Jane Umbridge. So after sixteen years of security, Hogwarts was slotted to become just like any other place she had been in - unwelcome to her.
She couldn't find it in her to fight back too much. She had never been much of a Gryffindor, feeling more secure amongst the dust tomes in the library and stars in the sky. So she when she found herself in the main courtyard, wand out and her bags next to her, she could do nothing but stare at the pink-clad menace and let her tears fall.
"Y-you can't! Y-you're lying!" she sobbed, not bothering to hide her terror at the thought of leaving the ancient castle. "Y-you c-can't fire me! H-hogwarts is m-my h-home!"
"Hogwarts was your home," the awful woman had the nerve to smile at her tears. If only she could see she would be gone by the end of the year, Sybill thought vengefully. The curse had not failed to strike so far, and she prayed it would something equally as humiliating as this. "But only until half an hour ago, when the Minister himself signed your letter of dismissal. Now please remove yourself from the courtyard."
Sybill sank down, eyes downcast, still sobbing in disbelief, peripherally aware of the students watching her. She thought she heard her dear Lavender and Parvati sobbing as well, and her heart warmed slightly.
Suddenly, she felt someone hug her with firmness yet gentleness she could only imagine mother giving. She rose her eyes in shock: who would help her? Who would feel like Hogwarts incarnated?
Her dark greens collided with warmer greens of Minerva McGonagall. She let out a sob in understanding: they might have their differences, agree to disagree on the importance of their subjects, but Minerva cared. She cared enough to come and comfort her despite them being polar opposites. She cared more for her then for her Gift and subject.
"Don't worry, Sybill," Minerva murmured. "You won't be leaving Hogwarts."
Sybill couldn't believe her. You're lying. Minerva shook her head, smile on her stern features. I'm not. You'll see.
Then it hit Sybill.
Minerva McGonagall was mother of everyone who called Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry home. She was the castle's living body.
Sybill relaxed a little. As long as Minerva was with her, she could not feel alone and insecure. She could face anyone with head high and wand ready. And she would show them.
She would be an insecure child no more.