2003- Year of the Wham (or, 'Trewlaney's Travels')
:::This is my very first fan fiction so I really need your reviews!!:::
Chapter One: Agoraphobia
Sybill Trewlaney awoke, yawning and stretching. The sunlight poured in through the stained glass window next to her bed. It was blue, with all four Teletubbies depicted in the center (her secret passion). She pushed back the covers of her bed (also decorated with Teletubbies) and got up, rubbing her eyes. She was wearing a Weird Sisters T-shirt and white long underwear with pink bears. She added her brown anteater slippers to the ensemble and stood up, getting a head rush.
The head rush may have been from standing up so fast, but most likely the abundance of incense lingering in the stuffy room (lavender, jasmine, rosemary, lemon tea, and bean-fart). All around her there were decks of tarot cards, crystal balls (*giggle*) and other fortune-telling and Divination oddities. The drapes on her window were actually cheap scarves, and the carpet was black and furry.
She walked downstairs to the kitchen and was suddenly ambushed by her dozen cats. She started to choke on the fur, wheezing and grabbing the counter for support. Luckily, one of the cats (named Lavender, after one of her favourite students) knew CPR and quickly revived her.
She sat down in her favourite chair and ate breakfast - emu eggs over easy with cucumbers and horseradish - and looked at her wall calendar cheerfully. June 30 - two whole months free of teaching to do whatever she pleased.
After she had consumed breakfast and coughed up a few hairballs (Gross? Not considering she was just given mouth-to-mouth by a cat) she went upstairs and got dressed, putting on some bright purple robes. She put one of her crystal balls (*giggle!*) on her small table and sat before it, humming like a monk.
"Ohmmmmmmmmmmmmm..."
The cloudy mist inside the ball (*giggle!* Some day I will have to grow up) swirled around and Professor Trewlaney gasped and fell backwards off her chair.
"No! NO!! This can't be! Why do you deceive me my divine orb?" she shrieked, staring into it again, but the mist did not change. She flopped onto her bed, miserably.
She had seen herself in the ball (stop it, yer killin me!) outside. Not outside her room, or her hallway, or the frightening glob of aromatherapy candles and kleenex that was her reality. Outside. In the open.
Dun dun dunnnnn...
Yes, dear reader, Professor Trewlaney has been living with agoraphobia ever since an unfortunate incident in her youth involving a garden claw, a pineapple and an elderly pharmacist with a skin condition (You may have read her story in the Reader's Digest, along with Lockhart's informative article about the effects of hair grease on the scalp). The reason she had decided to work as a teacher was that she could stay inside the walls of a familiar place while earning a living. The worst times where when she had to make the voyage to Hogwarts, or vice versa. She apparated to Kings Cross Station and had a colleague bring her into the train in a large trunk padded with Three Musketeers Bars.
So now she sat numb with shock as she stared into the depths of the ball (insert your own immature comment here), she realized she would be going outside. She decided to call her beloved bosom friend, Severus Snape.
"Severus? Seeeverus?" she said in her mistiest voice, stroking another one of her cats, Smibbergalibberjibberjabberwocky.
"Hello?" Snape replied drowsily, "Who is this?"
"It's Sybill, silly! You'd think that after thirty years if friendship you'd be able to recognize my voice!"
"Good grief," Snape muttered in a very annoyed voice, "You mean 30 years of you stalking me! How did you find this number?"
Snape hung up, and Professor Trewlaney set her cordless popeye phone down, sighing.
"My Snapey never was a morning person," she said to Smibbergalibberjibberjabberwocky, "But he's right, I should enjoy my time outside. I've got to be brave, for Severus. I've got to overcome my fear."
So, even though Snape had said nothing of the sort, Trewlaney sprang up from the bed with new hope. She skipped downstairs and knocked over a bag of cat food that was sitting in the hallway so her cats wouldn't starve.
Then, the moment of truth had come. Her pale, knobby knees knocked together. She perspired so much that her skin got as clammy as a dead cod. She gripped the doorknob and opened it. Slowly...slowly...then...
WHAM!
The Saturday paper hit her square in the nose, knocking her backwards onto the spilled cat food.
"Mmph..." she said, trying to sit up and stop the blood flow. She fell back onto the floor and lied there until Lavender called 911.
*****
"Now, now, Mees Trewlaney, lie back while I be putting zees bandage in your nowsse. Zat voz von 'eavy paper."
"De durse said it was fibteeb bounds," Professor Trewlaney answered wearily as the doctor bandaged her nose. She had passed out on the floor and when she awoke she was lying in the local Muggle hospital while a doctor with a beard longer than Dumbledore's and olive-coloured skin checked her pulse.
"Zerre vee arr," he replied, stroking the coarse, black strands of his beard, "Feeling better?"
"Gurchegibishilish," she answered the experimental drugs in her IV drip finally starting to kick in. She felt very good. She was flying over a field of daises, singing the theme from 'Frasier'.
"Vot voss zat?" he asked, patting her arm comfortingly.
But I still don't know what to do with those tossed salads and scrambled eggs...
"Mees?"
But the professor was lost in her happy Frasier dreams, chasing after that adorable Jack Russell Terrier.
*****
"Eet vill be all right Mees Trewlaney, you can do it!"
Professor Trewlaney groaned, siting up and coughing up another hairball (some of the doctor's beard got in her apple juice, ok? Don't judge!).
"You may go, mees!" the doctor cheered, as if it made him as happy as it made her miserable, "Go, Go!"
He pulled her to a standing position and shoved her out of the hospital room. She swore she saw Lockhart get wheeled her by an intern, but she wasn't sure. She stumbled towards the door to the parking lot and grabbed the handle, staggering out into the sunlight.
It was...so warm. And the air was so different...so fresh. It smelled far better than the stuffiness of her own house. She relished in the sweet feeling of the outdoors, and suddenly...
WHAM!
~~~ Author's Note: This is my first fan fiction, like I said, so review like you've never reviewed before! Plus, keep checking back because I'll try to add a new chapter every week 9it gets better) And, of course, I claim no rights to the ideas and characters of Joanne Rowling, but I do claim the ideas and plot of this fanfic, so steal it and I'll hunt you down and gut you like a fish. Oh, and the strange spellings in the hospital are the doctor's accent and Trewlaney's broken nose, if you wondered. And sorry about the immature crystal ball jokes, but I couldn't help myself :-) ~~~
:::This is my very first fan fiction so I really need your reviews!!:::
Chapter One: Agoraphobia
Sybill Trewlaney awoke, yawning and stretching. The sunlight poured in through the stained glass window next to her bed. It was blue, with all four Teletubbies depicted in the center (her secret passion). She pushed back the covers of her bed (also decorated with Teletubbies) and got up, rubbing her eyes. She was wearing a Weird Sisters T-shirt and white long underwear with pink bears. She added her brown anteater slippers to the ensemble and stood up, getting a head rush.
The head rush may have been from standing up so fast, but most likely the abundance of incense lingering in the stuffy room (lavender, jasmine, rosemary, lemon tea, and bean-fart). All around her there were decks of tarot cards, crystal balls (*giggle*) and other fortune-telling and Divination oddities. The drapes on her window were actually cheap scarves, and the carpet was black and furry.
She walked downstairs to the kitchen and was suddenly ambushed by her dozen cats. She started to choke on the fur, wheezing and grabbing the counter for support. Luckily, one of the cats (named Lavender, after one of her favourite students) knew CPR and quickly revived her.
She sat down in her favourite chair and ate breakfast - emu eggs over easy with cucumbers and horseradish - and looked at her wall calendar cheerfully. June 30 - two whole months free of teaching to do whatever she pleased.
After she had consumed breakfast and coughed up a few hairballs (Gross? Not considering she was just given mouth-to-mouth by a cat) she went upstairs and got dressed, putting on some bright purple robes. She put one of her crystal balls (*giggle!*) on her small table and sat before it, humming like a monk.
"Ohmmmmmmmmmmmmm..."
The cloudy mist inside the ball (*giggle!* Some day I will have to grow up) swirled around and Professor Trewlaney gasped and fell backwards off her chair.
"No! NO!! This can't be! Why do you deceive me my divine orb?" she shrieked, staring into it again, but the mist did not change. She flopped onto her bed, miserably.
She had seen herself in the ball (stop it, yer killin me!) outside. Not outside her room, or her hallway, or the frightening glob of aromatherapy candles and kleenex that was her reality. Outside. In the open.
Dun dun dunnnnn...
Yes, dear reader, Professor Trewlaney has been living with agoraphobia ever since an unfortunate incident in her youth involving a garden claw, a pineapple and an elderly pharmacist with a skin condition (You may have read her story in the Reader's Digest, along with Lockhart's informative article about the effects of hair grease on the scalp). The reason she had decided to work as a teacher was that she could stay inside the walls of a familiar place while earning a living. The worst times where when she had to make the voyage to Hogwarts, or vice versa. She apparated to Kings Cross Station and had a colleague bring her into the train in a large trunk padded with Three Musketeers Bars.
So now she sat numb with shock as she stared into the depths of the ball (insert your own immature comment here), she realized she would be going outside. She decided to call her beloved bosom friend, Severus Snape.
"Severus? Seeeverus?" she said in her mistiest voice, stroking another one of her cats, Smibbergalibberjibberjabberwocky.
"Hello?" Snape replied drowsily, "Who is this?"
"It's Sybill, silly! You'd think that after thirty years if friendship you'd be able to recognize my voice!"
"Good grief," Snape muttered in a very annoyed voice, "You mean 30 years of you stalking me! How did you find this number?"
Snape hung up, and Professor Trewlaney set her cordless popeye phone down, sighing.
"My Snapey never was a morning person," she said to Smibbergalibberjibberjabberwocky, "But he's right, I should enjoy my time outside. I've got to be brave, for Severus. I've got to overcome my fear."
So, even though Snape had said nothing of the sort, Trewlaney sprang up from the bed with new hope. She skipped downstairs and knocked over a bag of cat food that was sitting in the hallway so her cats wouldn't starve.
Then, the moment of truth had come. Her pale, knobby knees knocked together. She perspired so much that her skin got as clammy as a dead cod. She gripped the doorknob and opened it. Slowly...slowly...then...
WHAM!
The Saturday paper hit her square in the nose, knocking her backwards onto the spilled cat food.
"Mmph..." she said, trying to sit up and stop the blood flow. She fell back onto the floor and lied there until Lavender called 911.
*****
"Now, now, Mees Trewlaney, lie back while I be putting zees bandage in your nowsse. Zat voz von 'eavy paper."
"De durse said it was fibteeb bounds," Professor Trewlaney answered wearily as the doctor bandaged her nose. She had passed out on the floor and when she awoke she was lying in the local Muggle hospital while a doctor with a beard longer than Dumbledore's and olive-coloured skin checked her pulse.
"Zerre vee arr," he replied, stroking the coarse, black strands of his beard, "Feeling better?"
"Gurchegibishilish," she answered the experimental drugs in her IV drip finally starting to kick in. She felt very good. She was flying over a field of daises, singing the theme from 'Frasier'.
"Vot voss zat?" he asked, patting her arm comfortingly.
But I still don't know what to do with those tossed salads and scrambled eggs...
"Mees?"
But the professor was lost in her happy Frasier dreams, chasing after that adorable Jack Russell Terrier.
*****
"Eet vill be all right Mees Trewlaney, you can do it!"
Professor Trewlaney groaned, siting up and coughing up another hairball (some of the doctor's beard got in her apple juice, ok? Don't judge!).
"You may go, mees!" the doctor cheered, as if it made him as happy as it made her miserable, "Go, Go!"
He pulled her to a standing position and shoved her out of the hospital room. She swore she saw Lockhart get wheeled her by an intern, but she wasn't sure. She stumbled towards the door to the parking lot and grabbed the handle, staggering out into the sunlight.
It was...so warm. And the air was so different...so fresh. It smelled far better than the stuffiness of her own house. She relished in the sweet feeling of the outdoors, and suddenly...
WHAM!
~~~ Author's Note: This is my first fan fiction, like I said, so review like you've never reviewed before! Plus, keep checking back because I'll try to add a new chapter every week 9it gets better) And, of course, I claim no rights to the ideas and characters of Joanne Rowling, but I do claim the ideas and plot of this fanfic, so steal it and I'll hunt you down and gut you like a fish. Oh, and the strange spellings in the hospital are the doctor's accent and Trewlaney's broken nose, if you wondered. And sorry about the immature crystal ball jokes, but I couldn't help myself :-) ~~~
