Sybill did not sleep in. Not really, anyway. When she did not have classes, she was rarely out of bed before noon, but after Minerva's visit, she had been feeling ill at ease and had only been able to sleep after calming her nerves with an extra glass of sherry, depleting her already meagre supply.

She would have to visit the kitchens again. Soon. She supposed she could do that while Minerva was doing whatever it was she wanted to do up here. Sybill was definitely not leaving the castle for a month. There was no way that was going to happen. Her? Leave? She had worked so hard to establish her rapport with the spirit world and if she left for any extended period, many of those bonds would be broken.

Besides… Where would she go?

No. Minerva would just have to accept it. This was her home and she was not going anywhere.

As she walked around her chamber, putting away all her belongings, and gathering the ones that she would be taking with her so as not to have Minerva poking her nose in them, she could not help but think back on the first time she had entered this room.

She had been so very young. And, she supposed, naive. She had believed that her name, coupled with her talents and the Headmaster's obvious confidence in her abilities, would have been enough to secure her at least a moderate amount of respect. But no… On her very first night at the school, she had come down to join the staff and students for dinner in the Great Hall and, thinking it would be a great way of introducing herself, had begun predicting that two of their numbers would be gone by the time they all gathered here, a year from now. But halfway through her speech, which had been well-rehearsed and was accompanied by some very elaborate swaying and gestures, most of them had just turned away and begun talking amongst themselves. A few had even sniggered.

But Minerva… Minerva had just watched her. So intently it had completely thrown Sybill off her prepared prediction. She had forgotten the circumstances under which these two tragic losses would occur and had just mumbled something that even she didn't quite understand, before quickly taking her seat.

All the way through dinner, she had felt those eyes on her. Every time she looked up, wanting to study the Hall and the people around her, she saw the woman, who had been her own teacher not that long ago, staring intently at her.

She had not been able to sleep that night, both uncomfortable in her new bed and wondering what that look had meant. Had the Transfiguration teacher perhaps been able to see what the others could not? Had she finally understood that Sybill was something special? That she truly had the gift?

Back when Sybill still was a student, she had often felt that the professor ignored her in favour of those students who were more inclined towards the crude, practical branches of magic rather than the ethereal and delicate arts. After her fifth year, Sybill had stopped taking Transfiguration and had not had any kind of interaction with Minerva. Or… Professor McGonagall, as she had still thought of her back then.

But now, maybe, just maybe, the young seer had thought, she had finally found someone who would see her for what she was. Maybe even… a friend…

So, despite her lack of sleep, she had been in high spirits when she made her way down for breakfast the next morning. On her way to the teachers' table, she had been stopped by a couple of teenage boys, who wanted to know if she really was Cassandra Trelawney's great-great-granddaughter. Flattered, she had told them that yes, she was indeed a humble descendent of the celebrated seer and had then, just to give them a treat, predicted that the taller of the two would by the end of his fifth year have gotten 9 OWLs, but not be alive to enjoy it.

For some reason the other boy had burst into tears and been completely inconsolable. As his friend led him away, Sybill had seen Minerva striding towards her, a strange look in her eyes. Before Sybill could bid her good morning, her colleague had pulled her into the nearest empty classroom.

"How dare you," she had hissed, and Sybill had been too shocked to respond. "As if your little show at the teachers' table wasn't bad enough, you have to bother the students with it too?"

"I… I…" Sybill had stammered, not entirely sure why the woman was so upset with her. "I am merely telling them what… what lies ahead… I do not make the future. I just see it…"

Minerva's nostrils flared. "See? If you're such a fantastic seer, then why don't you see what you're doing?"

"Doing? I am warning them… all of you… of what lies ahead. Is it not better knowing, so that you can prepare?"

"You just told a fifteen year old that he is going to die this very year! Do you honestly think that that is an act of kindness? I can only hope Dumbledore was wrong in assuming that you have any talents."

"Not all teenagers are so immature that they are unable to handle knowledge of the inevitable," Sybill had said, trying not to show how shaken she actually was by this attack. "In fact, as you may have noticed, he took it rather well. Why his friend saw the need to make a scene, I do not know."

Minerva seemed to grow even taller than she already was. "No? You can't think why it would be that someone who cares a lot about him would be upset by such a prediction, and by the descendant of one of the greatest seers of all time, no less?"

"I think he should be glad that his friend is forewarned. Help him set his affairs in order." Sybill had glanced towards the door, wondering if she could get away soon. This was not what she had expected from a Hogwarts professor.

But Minerva had stepped even closer, looking as if she was ready to burst her ever-present bubble of control. "Unless you are very, very certain of what you are predicting," she said, once again at a hiss, "and equally certain that knowing will be beneficial to the people concerned, I suggest that you keep your information to yourself from now on." She had taken a deep breath before she gave Sybill a little more room and continued. "Divination is a dubious subject at best. In my opinion, it wouldn't have been so wrong if Professor Dumbledore had gone through with discontinuing the course. To abuse the chance he has given you to cause unnecessary panic…" She shook her head. "I hope you will think this through, Sybill."

And she had finally left the room.

Sybill sighed at the memory as she got up from her bed and, trying to ignore a growing headache, began sorting through her rooms, deciding what needed to be put away. And what should be completely removed before she let nosey, old Minerva into her private chamber.

Soon she had a small bag waiting by the door, with some extra scarves tucked in, to prevent any clinking or other sounds that could be misconstrued.

As she had expected, the trapdoor opened not long after noon.

"Sybill," Minerva greeted her, looking around and giving an approving nod, although her eyes lingered on a forgotten crystal ball that was hardly going to go up in flames anyway.

"Minerva," Sybill answered, picking up her bag. "I trust that you will only do what is strictly necessary. That you will not disturb or offend the spirits that dwell in these rooms."

Minerva rolled her eyes. "Don't worry about your spirits. You know that I only like the best Firewhisky."

It took Sybill entirely too long to identify the blatant insult in this. When she realised what Minerva was insinuating, she forgot her planned parting remark and just left quickly, trying her best not to look as if she was running away.