Disclaimer: I don't own, so you don't sue. All rights go to J.K. Rowling
except for my pleasure of toying with her ideas.
"The Augurey's Song" By: Duskrider Q
A/N: I have to give credit where credit is due. I want to thank SilverElf for her great ideas on improving this fanfic like for the first conversation... oh but everything else is entirely my work! I plan on taking this through until the Potter's deaths. I've never been impressed with any fanfics of that that I've read.
Wilkes' first name is my creation, taken from the demon Hatier.
Albus Dumbledore took five strides up the muddy pathway and pushed open the door to a moldy bar. He started through the entrance when the mournful cry of a bird stopped him in his tracks. His soft blue eyes, clad by half moon glasses, turned their attention upward to the sobbing of an Augurey circling low over the inn he was about to enter. The bird embodied sadness in it's most obvious form, with a tearful melody of a song, and a beak that curved into an apparent frown, and it's feathers were glossy and ashen-green. He knew this although he could hardly discern the bird from the depressed clouds, and pour of rain.
"Close the door, fool! You'll let the heat out!" yelled the barman, shaking an empty bottle of whiskey at him. Dumbledore sighed, though he was not offended in the least. He simply did as told, although it seemed that in the three seconds he had been gazing skyward, all the heat had escaped in a haste. The pub was just as freezing as was outside on the street. He had not meant to offend anyone with his moment of reverie, however.
It was only that the Augurey had gained the title of the Irish Phoenix. In the past century, the Ireland native bird had abandoned it's old superstition as an omen of death for a symbol of solace. The Augurey was not a real phoenix like Fawkes, Dumbledore's own friend, pet, and confidant. It couldn't die in a self-ignited blaze and be reborn from it's ashes as a hatchling. But it was as inspirational as its scarlet and gold namesake because it only flew in heavy rain, and after all heavy rain there eventually was a new day and sun. There was hope... and there had been precious little of that in the weary world lately.
"My apologies." Dumbledore replied politely to the barman whom he approached.
The entire place reeked of something like goats, enhanced by wetness. The rain did nothing for washing the windows, but no one seemed to have minded. This shrouded the entire, little room in dimness challenged only by candle stubs on the few small tables.
Besides the filth everyone within the pub looked rather ... seclusive. A hag in the far corner busied herself sorting through various sized eyeballs. Two hooded men talked beside the stairway over large mugs of half-depleted fire-whiskey, and a different pair with distinctive Yorkshire accents laughed merrily over pints. Another man sat by himself, half his face covered in a shiny, dark mask. It looked as though something had burned that part of his face, and he wished to cover the scar. The barman who poured large jug of bubbling, multi-colored alcohol into a mug, looked very different.
In fact, he looked a lot like Dumbledore. His beard matched Dumbledore's own in length except his was more gray. His eyes, however, were a dull green and his nose was straight in contrast to Dumbledore. He wore plain brown robes and a thick black belt, very unlike Dumbledore's fancy silver and dark blue robes. Other than those minor details the twocould be twins!
"Hello, Aberforth."
His brother grunted. Albus Dumbledore took this as an acknowledgment. Aberforth Dumbledore had never been much for words. Often, when his mind was on his latest "experiment," he didn't converse or do much else but work on it. That was probably the reason why the inn was slipping into such fetid filth.
"One Charedelli on the rocks!" Aberforth called. Soon the hag wobbled over leaving her eyeballs on the table to collect the drink. "wit' de'... extra touch... ma'am." She hobbled away with a rotten toothed smile.
Aberforth flashed his dull eyes to Albus before bidding, "Can't stay. Gotta' go check on Miz' 'Dite. Nearin' a breakthrough."
"Who, Aberforth?"
"Miz 'Dite." Albus politely shook his head again, and Aberforth yelled, "Miz 'DITE!!!!!" The two hoods swerved their heads slightly in their direction.
"No, no!" said Dumbledore, rubbing his ears as his brother took in another large breath, preparing to scream again. "I heard you perfectly fine. Who is she? Even for wizards our age I expect that it's never too late for a love interest."
"A goat."
"Well, Aberforth, I hardly think she's your type!" Dumbledore exclaimed with shock
"Albus, I only been talkin' 'bout Miss Aphrodite fer a year. The brindle goat who's helpin' me on me latest project."
"Oh, yes, however you won't tell me exactly what purpose she has been serving," Aberforth kept his eyes surveying his clients as they drank, saying, "She's learnin'. Ain't that good enough fer ya'?"
Dumbledore sighed, as his brother bustled out of the bar into the backroom. Whatever Ms. Dite was "learning," Dumbledore soon decided that he just might not want to know after all. He sat down himself as he noticed the latest Daily Prophet on the countertop with a bold headline reading, "Muggle and Wizard Helping Healer Tortured." Another photograph of the Dark Mark shimmered above what was left of the house of a Mr. Tobblemyers and his wife, according to the caption underneath. Sadly, every paper for the last decade had had some story about a disappearance, a murder, or a torture. Albus was doing all he could by running Hogwarts, running the Order of the Phoenix, serving as a chairman fo the International Confederation of Wizards, and as Chief Warlock on the Wizengamot (the wizarding high court), but the world continually slipped into turmoil anyway. It was beginning to look as if Voldemort would never fall.
The door slamming behind him shook him out of his trance. Aberforth made his way back behind the bar. "Not yet. She's still missinÕ. Ain't you got some business or sumn' to attenÕta?Ó he asked. Dumbledore smiled at Aberforth, hoping he had finally acknowledged his presence, but Aberforth had continued eyeing the two hddled over firewhiskey. Still, perhaps his brother did know something. His expressionless face and voice made it difficult to tell. "Excuse me, Aberforth." started Dumbledore, and the bartender turned his face to him, "Do you know anything about a woman whoÕs come here to meet me?"
Aberforth looked around the bar. "Well, dereÕs that one," he started motioning to the hag, who had progressed to shooting marbles with the eyeballs, "AnÕ den dereÕs a witch with too many beads and too big specks. Went upstairs a couple hours ago."
"Ah," said Dumbledore happily, "That'll be my applicant for the post of Divination. She's quite earlier than I expected," he glanced at his solar system watch and noticed that Neptune had passed Pluto, "but then I am much later than I intended."
Aberforth gave him a strange look. "Why not do this at Hogwarts? Ain't that where you're teachin' now?"
"I wish I knew. My potential professor requested we do her interview away from the castle. I decided to respect her wishes."
"You'll regret it." Aberforth's eyes roamed over some of his clients in shrewd suspicion. "I remember every hood that comes into this bar, Albus. Most of them are usuals, but" his voice lowered, "A couple of 'em are shifty-like. You 'ought ta keep yer voices down if yer smart. Oh yeah, and no one in 'ere 'as mentioned anyt'in of yer concerns," refering to the Order, "Still people here like listenin' ta others talkin' more'n talkin' 'emselves."
"Thank you for the advice, Aberforth. You will alert me should anyone try to spy on my conversation then?" Aberforth grunted and turned away, his wisdom spent. Albus Dumbledore headed upstairs. He strode past the two hooded figures with Yorkshire accents, and the half masked man who slumped over as Dumbledore passed. The boards creaked under his weight and one was nearly rotten through. Dumbledore drew his wand from the inside pocket of his night-blue robes. He stopped in his place, waved it almost lazily, at the step in front of him. Instantly, the step in front of him turned shiny, strong, and mended as though a skilled carpenter had just carved, sanded, and waxed it.
Dumbledore didn't bother to do the same for the entire staircase although he could have. Uninvited help was more often an insult than a welcome. His brother had often resented such help as he, Albus, had gained world renown, while Aberforth's only success had been managing the Hog's Head; however, Dumbledore had worked hard for his positions and skill, while Aberforth had chosen not even to attend Hogwarts, much to their parents dismay. In the case of the step, placing a foot on it could have been dangerous. Better safe than sorry.
Dumbledore reached the landing and a door stood on each side of him. The question was: which door was his interviewee waiting behind? He motioned to knock on the right door, but the door swung open slowly of its own accord. A woman's misty voice invited from within shakily, "Ah, Professor Dumbledore, you have arrived safely as I knew you would." This pronouncement did neither impress nor unease Dumbledore. She'd have to do a little better than a mystical front and everyday wishes to get the job. He stepped inside and shut the door.
At the circular table centered in the middle of the room, sitting very ridged and fidgeting with a napkin was the woman draped in scarves, glittering rings, and beads. Her prescription lenses acted much more like two magnifying glasses taped together showing her eyes to be ten times their normal size. There were runs in her stockings and patches on her robes.
Dumbledore also took notice of why she most likely had arrived so early. The room had been lit with dim candles, enchanted to glow pink. Many stems of incense burned all around the room proving to be almost overwhelming mixing with the dust of the air. She had laid three decks of cards, a crystal ball, seven pendants, two chipped cups, and several other items of the nature on the plain bed situated in the corner of the room. The grimy window had been covered with a thin shimmering pink scarf.
"I take it that I find you well, as well... Miss Sibyl P. Trelawney, I presume," Dumbledore said with a warm smile. He then with the flick of his wand drew up a chintz armchair that fell with a thud in front of the table. "I have been looking forward to this interview. As I read in your resume, you are the great-great granddaughter of Cassandra Vablatsky." Truthfully Dumbledore was not looking forward to the interview, but nor was he dreading it. He had never held much stock in Divination, but common courtesy told him that he should meet such a promising prospect. "I'm curious to know, however, why we could not conduct this interview at Hogwarts."
"I find that Hogwarts is too large a place with much magic interweaved in her walls. For future reference, large crowds cloud my Sight as well. You'll understand, Professor Dumbledore, why I preferred someplace like the Hog's Head which is more private and... less... financially demanding."
Dumbledore nodded in comprehension. When he was naught but a lad himself, and starting out his career within the Ministry, he too had found it hard to make ends meet. Furthermore, the Hog's Head, even before Aberforth's ownership, had been known for being "less financially demanding," as Sibyl Trelawney so eloquently put it. "Understandable. Now, I must apologize for my tardiness. It's raining kneazles and krups! My thestrals experienced difficulty pulling my carriage through--"
"Thestrals?" Trelwney exclaimed. She sat up in full attention, dropped her napkin, and almost smiled for some reason. "Not only can you see them, but they pull your carriage. Dear sir. Poor, dear sir. Why, they are a walking omen of... death." She emphasized the last word in a foreboding whisper. It seemed that death omens were her area of interest, but not expertise.
He dismissed it with a wave of his hand, "I have been able to see them for many years. I have discovered that they can be rather friendly, if not annoyed. I am licensed to own them, I assure you."
Miss Trelawney looked aghast as if he might as well have said that the Grim was his best friend. An uneasy silence arose and with it, a call for a change of subject. "In any case, should you get the job, I wonder how you expect to teach at Hogwarts if so much magic clouds your-- er-- Inner Eye."
"Some room or place slightly from the hustle and bustle of the more busy sections of Hogwarts will do," she answered without hesitation. At least she had thought about it.
"Very well. Then, shall we begin?" Dumbledore drew his wand out once more and with a flick, a piece of parchment appeared. Questions in his loopy scrawl magically surfaced on the paper as the slightest of thoughts crossed his mind.
"What have you previously worked as?"
She even replied simple question in an airy, eathral tone. "I owned and ran the family shop, Mystic Menagerie for the first ten years after my mother passed away. My sister took over when I decided to seek my treasure on my own. I traveled with a Muggle carnival for ten years working the fortune telling booth, but they. . . no, I asked them to leave because. . . because it was obvious the customers could never truly grasp and except their fates!"
After a general Q and A, he asked her other things such as how she would deal with students in need of advice pertaining to her field of knowledge, for instance nightmares.
"Well, Professor, should the weary young soul seek me out wondering what the dark figure in their dream meant I would be completely honest with them. The shadowy figure is often the very manifestation of the Grim Reaper or else a stalking spirit trying to communicate with the student. If you have ever had such dreams, Professor Dumbledore," she leaned in on a whisper, "Beware... Beware sharp objects, suspicious places, odd people, and of course, creatures."
Dumbledore knew before their meeting that she was the last descendant of a wondrous Seer, but apparently the talent skipped a generation. He endured half an hour of hearing that the very orange he ate for a snack that morning foretold a loss, pain, or death. "I thought that it looked a bit rotten," he indulged amusedly but still sat unimpressed. Her predecessor, Professor Esmerelda Zabini's fashion of Divination was quite similar. She was a gypsy who came in contact with a cursed deck of cards. (For lack of most of her body parts, they held her memorial service two days after the sad twist of fate.)
Next in the interview came the Grand Finale!
"Is there anything else you would like to show me, Miss Trelawney?" Dumbledore asked still trying to look attentive as she set up a miniature model of the solar system encased in a glass dome. Each planet revolved around the sun encircled by their respective moons.
"Just one. Now, Professor I ask you to relax and direct your attention. . ." she withdrew her wand for the first time and tapped the dome; as she did so a light from within the dome projected the solar system in 3-D onto the ceiling. "To the sky!" she finished proclaiming in full blown mysticism. The ceiling had turned a dark blue and all the moving planets looked astounding despite the loose boards of the ceiling slowly succumbing to gravity (none were directly over their heads).
"As you can see Mars is glowing more prominently than any which is odd given that Mercury, Venus, and Earth are closer to the sun (don't look directly at that, by the way, even though it's transparent in the model). This mean that we here on Earth are in dire danger of burns." Mars suddenly loomed in Dumbledore's direction though he did not so much as flinch. Miss Trelawney continued in a higher voice than necessary, "We should all be on guard of hot objects, fire, and when attempting complex spells. . . dangerous spells especially! Mar's time of dominance could very well be FATAL!" She made a sudden sweeping motion over the dome with her wand, leaving glittering sparks in trail. Shivering slightly she held Dumbledore's gaze, probably still anxious, and awaited a reaction.
Dumbledore discerned that she would have liked him to gasp at that point, but he truly didn't have it in him to lie to that extent. The hardest part was finding comforting words for what he had to say now to Ms. Trelawney. He sighed. "Miss Trelawney, I want to thank you for your time this evening. I think that you are a woman serious about her profession, but I do not believe you are right for the job. I wish you much suc--"
"But-- but wait," she said in a frantic voice that completely forgot the ethereal sound she'd been using. "I can read tarot cards! Or may-- maybe... Please don't leave. The landlord is threatening to evict me... I need the pay." She began to sob.
Dumbledore stood and with true pity told her, "If you would like I can lend you the money to make your rent for this month--" She chocked back another sob as she dabbed her tears under her glasses. She didn't reply, only removed the napkin from her face and let her hands fall into her lap with a soft thud. She dropped her sight down to her lap.
"I am very sorry." Dumbledore sighed once more and turned to leave, but at that moment Dumbledore heard two men having a brief scuffle outside. Then the door violently burst open and the man with half a shiny dark mask rolled into the room his hood slipped off revealing disheveled brown hair. Dumbledore's brother towered in the doorway. "Aberforth what is this?"
"Like I said, People like ta' hear others talkin' more'n talkin' 'emselves. I went into the back room to finish up with Miz. Dite when I noticed his table empty and his drink full. Something was up, I knowed so. I ain't stupid. Found 'im crouched by the doorway, I did."
"I didn't even expect you to be here Dumbledore, but there was nothing of importance said," came a familiar voice.
"Do I know you?" inquired Dumbledore.
Half a crooked smile came from behind the glossy dark mask, "You thought you did. I found a better mentor by my fifth year." Dumbledore felt himself swell with fury knowing what he implied and registering the voice.
"Hatius Wilkes?" The masked man's half visible grin stretched wider.
Feeling his anger radiate off him Dumbledore unleashed his wand on the intruder who quickly raised half-way off the floor. He scuffled backwards into Aberforth who pushed him back face forward onto the ground.
The three men soon began shouting over each other.
"--My affairs are none of Voldemort's business--"
"--NEVER speak his name! The Dark Lord is not interested in such trivial meetings anyway--"
"--What's Voldemort planning--"
"--Pay or get out--"
"--Aberforth, I do believe that there are more pressing matters--"
"--I will be rewarded by my master for my defiance of you--"
"--Can I go? Miz' Dite iz waitin', Albus--"
"--THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD APPROACHES. . ."
A voice that belonged to none of the three wizards had rumbled from behind them quite different from Sybil Trelawney's. All attention shifted to the woman at the table. Dumbledore had instinctively turned his wand behind him, but left some focus on the masked man named Wilkes who was evidently a Death Eater. Should the Death Eater or the new intruder with the rumbling voice try something, he was not vulnerable. But it seemed that the only new presences were Aberforth and Wilkes. Only Sybil Trelawney sat beside him.
Sybil's head had lolled to her shoulder, her mouth slacked, and drool ran from her lip. "BORN TO THOSE WHO HAVE THRICE DEFIED HIM, BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES. . ." bellowed Sybil. Was she speaking what Dumbledore thought she was?
"Or perhaps this meeting is not a trifle," breathed the Death Eater clearly astonished.
Fury dictated Dumbledore's wand as the man still sprawled before him was effortlessly tossed out the door like a rag doll. Aberforth stepped aside to avoid collision. He raised his wand at the Death Eater who hit the opposite door of the landing. There was a explosion of light.
Over the tumbling down the stairs the deep voice of The Seer's Tongue continued, "AND THE DARK LORD WILL MARK HIM AS HIS EQUAL, BUT HE WILL HAVE POWER THE DARK LORD KNOWS NOT. . ." long pauses came between each revelation, "AND EITHER MUST DIE AT THE HAND OF THE OTHER FOR NEITHER CAN LIVE WHILE THE OTHER SURVIVES. . ." Dumbledore contemplated all pieces and repeated the lines to himself silently. They each brought a kind of reassurance "THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD WILL BE BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES. . . ," like the Augurey's song.
After Sybil Trelawney awoke from her trance and apologized for fainting, it became obvious that she had no memory of her prophesy. She quickly remembered what had last been said to her, however, and began to cry once more. Dumbledore assured her that it would all be alright, that he had in fact made a mistake in refusing her the position of Divination teacher at Hogwarts. After her magnificent prophesy it had become apparent to him that he had given up on more than one thing lately. Having her close at Hogwarts would be more of an asset than a deprivation should she prophesize about anything again, especially Voldemort, this mysterious One, or the outcome of the war. In a way, Professor Trelawney had unpredictably sang of hope, just like the augurey.
"The Augurey's Song" By: Duskrider Q
A/N: I have to give credit where credit is due. I want to thank SilverElf for her great ideas on improving this fanfic like for the first conversation... oh but everything else is entirely my work! I plan on taking this through until the Potter's deaths. I've never been impressed with any fanfics of that that I've read.
Wilkes' first name is my creation, taken from the demon Hatier.
Albus Dumbledore took five strides up the muddy pathway and pushed open the door to a moldy bar. He started through the entrance when the mournful cry of a bird stopped him in his tracks. His soft blue eyes, clad by half moon glasses, turned their attention upward to the sobbing of an Augurey circling low over the inn he was about to enter. The bird embodied sadness in it's most obvious form, with a tearful melody of a song, and a beak that curved into an apparent frown, and it's feathers were glossy and ashen-green. He knew this although he could hardly discern the bird from the depressed clouds, and pour of rain.
"Close the door, fool! You'll let the heat out!" yelled the barman, shaking an empty bottle of whiskey at him. Dumbledore sighed, though he was not offended in the least. He simply did as told, although it seemed that in the three seconds he had been gazing skyward, all the heat had escaped in a haste. The pub was just as freezing as was outside on the street. He had not meant to offend anyone with his moment of reverie, however.
It was only that the Augurey had gained the title of the Irish Phoenix. In the past century, the Ireland native bird had abandoned it's old superstition as an omen of death for a symbol of solace. The Augurey was not a real phoenix like Fawkes, Dumbledore's own friend, pet, and confidant. It couldn't die in a self-ignited blaze and be reborn from it's ashes as a hatchling. But it was as inspirational as its scarlet and gold namesake because it only flew in heavy rain, and after all heavy rain there eventually was a new day and sun. There was hope... and there had been precious little of that in the weary world lately.
"My apologies." Dumbledore replied politely to the barman whom he approached.
The entire place reeked of something like goats, enhanced by wetness. The rain did nothing for washing the windows, but no one seemed to have minded. This shrouded the entire, little room in dimness challenged only by candle stubs on the few small tables.
Besides the filth everyone within the pub looked rather ... seclusive. A hag in the far corner busied herself sorting through various sized eyeballs. Two hooded men talked beside the stairway over large mugs of half-depleted fire-whiskey, and a different pair with distinctive Yorkshire accents laughed merrily over pints. Another man sat by himself, half his face covered in a shiny, dark mask. It looked as though something had burned that part of his face, and he wished to cover the scar. The barman who poured large jug of bubbling, multi-colored alcohol into a mug, looked very different.
In fact, he looked a lot like Dumbledore. His beard matched Dumbledore's own in length except his was more gray. His eyes, however, were a dull green and his nose was straight in contrast to Dumbledore. He wore plain brown robes and a thick black belt, very unlike Dumbledore's fancy silver and dark blue robes. Other than those minor details the twocould be twins!
"Hello, Aberforth."
His brother grunted. Albus Dumbledore took this as an acknowledgment. Aberforth Dumbledore had never been much for words. Often, when his mind was on his latest "experiment," he didn't converse or do much else but work on it. That was probably the reason why the inn was slipping into such fetid filth.
"One Charedelli on the rocks!" Aberforth called. Soon the hag wobbled over leaving her eyeballs on the table to collect the drink. "wit' de'... extra touch... ma'am." She hobbled away with a rotten toothed smile.
Aberforth flashed his dull eyes to Albus before bidding, "Can't stay. Gotta' go check on Miz' 'Dite. Nearin' a breakthrough."
"Who, Aberforth?"
"Miz 'Dite." Albus politely shook his head again, and Aberforth yelled, "Miz 'DITE!!!!!" The two hoods swerved their heads slightly in their direction.
"No, no!" said Dumbledore, rubbing his ears as his brother took in another large breath, preparing to scream again. "I heard you perfectly fine. Who is she? Even for wizards our age I expect that it's never too late for a love interest."
"A goat."
"Well, Aberforth, I hardly think she's your type!" Dumbledore exclaimed with shock
"Albus, I only been talkin' 'bout Miss Aphrodite fer a year. The brindle goat who's helpin' me on me latest project."
"Oh, yes, however you won't tell me exactly what purpose she has been serving," Aberforth kept his eyes surveying his clients as they drank, saying, "She's learnin'. Ain't that good enough fer ya'?"
Dumbledore sighed, as his brother bustled out of the bar into the backroom. Whatever Ms. Dite was "learning," Dumbledore soon decided that he just might not want to know after all. He sat down himself as he noticed the latest Daily Prophet on the countertop with a bold headline reading, "Muggle and Wizard Helping Healer Tortured." Another photograph of the Dark Mark shimmered above what was left of the house of a Mr. Tobblemyers and his wife, according to the caption underneath. Sadly, every paper for the last decade had had some story about a disappearance, a murder, or a torture. Albus was doing all he could by running Hogwarts, running the Order of the Phoenix, serving as a chairman fo the International Confederation of Wizards, and as Chief Warlock on the Wizengamot (the wizarding high court), but the world continually slipped into turmoil anyway. It was beginning to look as if Voldemort would never fall.
The door slamming behind him shook him out of his trance. Aberforth made his way back behind the bar. "Not yet. She's still missinÕ. Ain't you got some business or sumn' to attenÕta?Ó he asked. Dumbledore smiled at Aberforth, hoping he had finally acknowledged his presence, but Aberforth had continued eyeing the two hddled over firewhiskey. Still, perhaps his brother did know something. His expressionless face and voice made it difficult to tell. "Excuse me, Aberforth." started Dumbledore, and the bartender turned his face to him, "Do you know anything about a woman whoÕs come here to meet me?"
Aberforth looked around the bar. "Well, dereÕs that one," he started motioning to the hag, who had progressed to shooting marbles with the eyeballs, "AnÕ den dereÕs a witch with too many beads and too big specks. Went upstairs a couple hours ago."
"Ah," said Dumbledore happily, "That'll be my applicant for the post of Divination. She's quite earlier than I expected," he glanced at his solar system watch and noticed that Neptune had passed Pluto, "but then I am much later than I intended."
Aberforth gave him a strange look. "Why not do this at Hogwarts? Ain't that where you're teachin' now?"
"I wish I knew. My potential professor requested we do her interview away from the castle. I decided to respect her wishes."
"You'll regret it." Aberforth's eyes roamed over some of his clients in shrewd suspicion. "I remember every hood that comes into this bar, Albus. Most of them are usuals, but" his voice lowered, "A couple of 'em are shifty-like. You 'ought ta keep yer voices down if yer smart. Oh yeah, and no one in 'ere 'as mentioned anyt'in of yer concerns," refering to the Order, "Still people here like listenin' ta others talkin' more'n talkin' 'emselves."
"Thank you for the advice, Aberforth. You will alert me should anyone try to spy on my conversation then?" Aberforth grunted and turned away, his wisdom spent. Albus Dumbledore headed upstairs. He strode past the two hooded figures with Yorkshire accents, and the half masked man who slumped over as Dumbledore passed. The boards creaked under his weight and one was nearly rotten through. Dumbledore drew his wand from the inside pocket of his night-blue robes. He stopped in his place, waved it almost lazily, at the step in front of him. Instantly, the step in front of him turned shiny, strong, and mended as though a skilled carpenter had just carved, sanded, and waxed it.
Dumbledore didn't bother to do the same for the entire staircase although he could have. Uninvited help was more often an insult than a welcome. His brother had often resented such help as he, Albus, had gained world renown, while Aberforth's only success had been managing the Hog's Head; however, Dumbledore had worked hard for his positions and skill, while Aberforth had chosen not even to attend Hogwarts, much to their parents dismay. In the case of the step, placing a foot on it could have been dangerous. Better safe than sorry.
Dumbledore reached the landing and a door stood on each side of him. The question was: which door was his interviewee waiting behind? He motioned to knock on the right door, but the door swung open slowly of its own accord. A woman's misty voice invited from within shakily, "Ah, Professor Dumbledore, you have arrived safely as I knew you would." This pronouncement did neither impress nor unease Dumbledore. She'd have to do a little better than a mystical front and everyday wishes to get the job. He stepped inside and shut the door.
At the circular table centered in the middle of the room, sitting very ridged and fidgeting with a napkin was the woman draped in scarves, glittering rings, and beads. Her prescription lenses acted much more like two magnifying glasses taped together showing her eyes to be ten times their normal size. There were runs in her stockings and patches on her robes.
Dumbledore also took notice of why she most likely had arrived so early. The room had been lit with dim candles, enchanted to glow pink. Many stems of incense burned all around the room proving to be almost overwhelming mixing with the dust of the air. She had laid three decks of cards, a crystal ball, seven pendants, two chipped cups, and several other items of the nature on the plain bed situated in the corner of the room. The grimy window had been covered with a thin shimmering pink scarf.
"I take it that I find you well, as well... Miss Sibyl P. Trelawney, I presume," Dumbledore said with a warm smile. He then with the flick of his wand drew up a chintz armchair that fell with a thud in front of the table. "I have been looking forward to this interview. As I read in your resume, you are the great-great granddaughter of Cassandra Vablatsky." Truthfully Dumbledore was not looking forward to the interview, but nor was he dreading it. He had never held much stock in Divination, but common courtesy told him that he should meet such a promising prospect. "I'm curious to know, however, why we could not conduct this interview at Hogwarts."
"I find that Hogwarts is too large a place with much magic interweaved in her walls. For future reference, large crowds cloud my Sight as well. You'll understand, Professor Dumbledore, why I preferred someplace like the Hog's Head which is more private and... less... financially demanding."
Dumbledore nodded in comprehension. When he was naught but a lad himself, and starting out his career within the Ministry, he too had found it hard to make ends meet. Furthermore, the Hog's Head, even before Aberforth's ownership, had been known for being "less financially demanding," as Sibyl Trelawney so eloquently put it. "Understandable. Now, I must apologize for my tardiness. It's raining kneazles and krups! My thestrals experienced difficulty pulling my carriage through--"
"Thestrals?" Trelwney exclaimed. She sat up in full attention, dropped her napkin, and almost smiled for some reason. "Not only can you see them, but they pull your carriage. Dear sir. Poor, dear sir. Why, they are a walking omen of... death." She emphasized the last word in a foreboding whisper. It seemed that death omens were her area of interest, but not expertise.
He dismissed it with a wave of his hand, "I have been able to see them for many years. I have discovered that they can be rather friendly, if not annoyed. I am licensed to own them, I assure you."
Miss Trelawney looked aghast as if he might as well have said that the Grim was his best friend. An uneasy silence arose and with it, a call for a change of subject. "In any case, should you get the job, I wonder how you expect to teach at Hogwarts if so much magic clouds your-- er-- Inner Eye."
"Some room or place slightly from the hustle and bustle of the more busy sections of Hogwarts will do," she answered without hesitation. At least she had thought about it.
"Very well. Then, shall we begin?" Dumbledore drew his wand out once more and with a flick, a piece of parchment appeared. Questions in his loopy scrawl magically surfaced on the paper as the slightest of thoughts crossed his mind.
"What have you previously worked as?"
She even replied simple question in an airy, eathral tone. "I owned and ran the family shop, Mystic Menagerie for the first ten years after my mother passed away. My sister took over when I decided to seek my treasure on my own. I traveled with a Muggle carnival for ten years working the fortune telling booth, but they. . . no, I asked them to leave because. . . because it was obvious the customers could never truly grasp and except their fates!"
After a general Q and A, he asked her other things such as how she would deal with students in need of advice pertaining to her field of knowledge, for instance nightmares.
"Well, Professor, should the weary young soul seek me out wondering what the dark figure in their dream meant I would be completely honest with them. The shadowy figure is often the very manifestation of the Grim Reaper or else a stalking spirit trying to communicate with the student. If you have ever had such dreams, Professor Dumbledore," she leaned in on a whisper, "Beware... Beware sharp objects, suspicious places, odd people, and of course, creatures."
Dumbledore knew before their meeting that she was the last descendant of a wondrous Seer, but apparently the talent skipped a generation. He endured half an hour of hearing that the very orange he ate for a snack that morning foretold a loss, pain, or death. "I thought that it looked a bit rotten," he indulged amusedly but still sat unimpressed. Her predecessor, Professor Esmerelda Zabini's fashion of Divination was quite similar. She was a gypsy who came in contact with a cursed deck of cards. (For lack of most of her body parts, they held her memorial service two days after the sad twist of fate.)
Next in the interview came the Grand Finale!
"Is there anything else you would like to show me, Miss Trelawney?" Dumbledore asked still trying to look attentive as she set up a miniature model of the solar system encased in a glass dome. Each planet revolved around the sun encircled by their respective moons.
"Just one. Now, Professor I ask you to relax and direct your attention. . ." she withdrew her wand for the first time and tapped the dome; as she did so a light from within the dome projected the solar system in 3-D onto the ceiling. "To the sky!" she finished proclaiming in full blown mysticism. The ceiling had turned a dark blue and all the moving planets looked astounding despite the loose boards of the ceiling slowly succumbing to gravity (none were directly over their heads).
"As you can see Mars is glowing more prominently than any which is odd given that Mercury, Venus, and Earth are closer to the sun (don't look directly at that, by the way, even though it's transparent in the model). This mean that we here on Earth are in dire danger of burns." Mars suddenly loomed in Dumbledore's direction though he did not so much as flinch. Miss Trelawney continued in a higher voice than necessary, "We should all be on guard of hot objects, fire, and when attempting complex spells. . . dangerous spells especially! Mar's time of dominance could very well be FATAL!" She made a sudden sweeping motion over the dome with her wand, leaving glittering sparks in trail. Shivering slightly she held Dumbledore's gaze, probably still anxious, and awaited a reaction.
Dumbledore discerned that she would have liked him to gasp at that point, but he truly didn't have it in him to lie to that extent. The hardest part was finding comforting words for what he had to say now to Ms. Trelawney. He sighed. "Miss Trelawney, I want to thank you for your time this evening. I think that you are a woman serious about her profession, but I do not believe you are right for the job. I wish you much suc--"
"But-- but wait," she said in a frantic voice that completely forgot the ethereal sound she'd been using. "I can read tarot cards! Or may-- maybe... Please don't leave. The landlord is threatening to evict me... I need the pay." She began to sob.
Dumbledore stood and with true pity told her, "If you would like I can lend you the money to make your rent for this month--" She chocked back another sob as she dabbed her tears under her glasses. She didn't reply, only removed the napkin from her face and let her hands fall into her lap with a soft thud. She dropped her sight down to her lap.
"I am very sorry." Dumbledore sighed once more and turned to leave, but at that moment Dumbledore heard two men having a brief scuffle outside. Then the door violently burst open and the man with half a shiny dark mask rolled into the room his hood slipped off revealing disheveled brown hair. Dumbledore's brother towered in the doorway. "Aberforth what is this?"
"Like I said, People like ta' hear others talkin' more'n talkin' 'emselves. I went into the back room to finish up with Miz. Dite when I noticed his table empty and his drink full. Something was up, I knowed so. I ain't stupid. Found 'im crouched by the doorway, I did."
"I didn't even expect you to be here Dumbledore, but there was nothing of importance said," came a familiar voice.
"Do I know you?" inquired Dumbledore.
Half a crooked smile came from behind the glossy dark mask, "You thought you did. I found a better mentor by my fifth year." Dumbledore felt himself swell with fury knowing what he implied and registering the voice.
"Hatius Wilkes?" The masked man's half visible grin stretched wider.
Feeling his anger radiate off him Dumbledore unleashed his wand on the intruder who quickly raised half-way off the floor. He scuffled backwards into Aberforth who pushed him back face forward onto the ground.
The three men soon began shouting over each other.
"--My affairs are none of Voldemort's business--"
"--NEVER speak his name! The Dark Lord is not interested in such trivial meetings anyway--"
"--What's Voldemort planning--"
"--Pay or get out--"
"--Aberforth, I do believe that there are more pressing matters--"
"--I will be rewarded by my master for my defiance of you--"
"--Can I go? Miz' Dite iz waitin', Albus--"
"--THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD APPROACHES. . ."
A voice that belonged to none of the three wizards had rumbled from behind them quite different from Sybil Trelawney's. All attention shifted to the woman at the table. Dumbledore had instinctively turned his wand behind him, but left some focus on the masked man named Wilkes who was evidently a Death Eater. Should the Death Eater or the new intruder with the rumbling voice try something, he was not vulnerable. But it seemed that the only new presences were Aberforth and Wilkes. Only Sybil Trelawney sat beside him.
Sybil's head had lolled to her shoulder, her mouth slacked, and drool ran from her lip. "BORN TO THOSE WHO HAVE THRICE DEFIED HIM, BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES. . ." bellowed Sybil. Was she speaking what Dumbledore thought she was?
"Or perhaps this meeting is not a trifle," breathed the Death Eater clearly astonished.
Fury dictated Dumbledore's wand as the man still sprawled before him was effortlessly tossed out the door like a rag doll. Aberforth stepped aside to avoid collision. He raised his wand at the Death Eater who hit the opposite door of the landing. There was a explosion of light.
Over the tumbling down the stairs the deep voice of The Seer's Tongue continued, "AND THE DARK LORD WILL MARK HIM AS HIS EQUAL, BUT HE WILL HAVE POWER THE DARK LORD KNOWS NOT. . ." long pauses came between each revelation, "AND EITHER MUST DIE AT THE HAND OF THE OTHER FOR NEITHER CAN LIVE WHILE THE OTHER SURVIVES. . ." Dumbledore contemplated all pieces and repeated the lines to himself silently. They each brought a kind of reassurance "THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD WILL BE BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES. . . ," like the Augurey's song.
After Sybil Trelawney awoke from her trance and apologized for fainting, it became obvious that she had no memory of her prophesy. She quickly remembered what had last been said to her, however, and began to cry once more. Dumbledore assured her that it would all be alright, that he had in fact made a mistake in refusing her the position of Divination teacher at Hogwarts. After her magnificent prophesy it had become apparent to him that he had given up on more than one thing lately. Having her close at Hogwarts would be more of an asset than a deprivation should she prophesize about anything again, especially Voldemort, this mysterious One, or the outcome of the war. In a way, Professor Trelawney had unpredictably sang of hope, just like the augurey.