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Sybill Trelawney was tipsy. Actually, no, she wasn’t tipsy. She was long past tipsy. Sybill Trelawney was thoroughly drunk. It hadn’t been her intention to get drunk this night – even if the tea leaves had been extremely unkind that evening – in fact, she’d been trying really hard to carefully walk the sober-drunk line. With Dolores Umbridge running the school since Albus’s departure, she had confined herself to her quarters in the North Tower. The less reason she gave that horrid, power drunk toad to think about her, the better. If Umbridge forgot about her existence in the school, she wouldn’t bother sending her away.
Yet tonight she was outside her tower. She just couldn’t stay there anymore. The spirits were talking more loudly and more incessantly than they had in years. It was most likely also the reason why she had strayed from tipsy into the realm of drunkenness. Her feet dragged a little on the stone flooring, nearly tripping her when one of the stones was raised slightly higher than its neighbours. In one hand she held a nearly empty bottle of sherry.
Go. Help. Need you. Save.
“Shut up!” Sybill slurred at the voices, yet knew that it was in vain. She came to the end of the dark hall and had to choose whether to turn left or right. Without any specific destination in mind, she headed towards the left hallway.
NO! BACK! WRONG! SAVE!
“I go where I want!” she muttered indignantly, yet she still turned on her heel and turned right instead of left. The headache wasn’t worth the effort right now.
Good. Right. Go. Walk. Save.
Sybill tried to ignore all the overlapping voices in her head. She wasn’t even sure what half of them were saying most of the time. She took another swig of her sherry. By now she’d moved three floors down and was uncomfortably close to Umbridge’s office. If only she was stronger against the voices, but they had never led her astray before, thus she was hesitant to defy them too strongly. She grew more and more anxious as the door to Umbridge’s office came into view. The bottle in her hand now well and truly drained of the last drops of sherry.
Go. Continue. Pass. Safe.
Sybill held her breath as she tiptoed past the office door. Nothing happened. At the end of the corridor she finally breathed again and made to move towards the staircase leading up. Immediately the spirits stopped her in her tracks.
NO! WRONG! DOWN! UP BAD! SAVE!
Sybill shook her head. The sudden increase in volume scared her a little. Never before had the spirits sounded this… angry? Agitated? Anxious? She shifted directions and walked down the steps. Maybe she could get a new bottle of sherry in the kitchens, and then the voices would shut up – and if they wouldn’t, at least she wouldn’t be coherent enough to be upset by them. She wandered down to the ground floor, the voices finally quieting to a whisper.
Good. Correct. Go. Save.
When she turned away from the main hall towards the kitchens, the voices started acting up again.
Doors. There. Grass. Save.
”Shush, I need my sherry,” Sybill told the voices. This time, nothing would deter her from her goal. That sherry was most important. The portrait came into view and suddenly Sybill felt like a naughty student again, sneaking down to the kitchens to get some illicit night snacks. She looked left and right before tickling the pear. She opened the portrait a smidge and squeezed through the opening. A few house elves were still working, preparing things for tomorrow’s breakfast. They immediately looked up and took their hands off their work.
“Can Wes help you?” a brown eyed, slightly overweight house elf asked.
“A bottle of sherry… please,” she added when a hiss went through her mind. The house elf’s face contorted.
“Wes not sure that is a good idea. Wes think you have already had a bottle,” he piped.
“I promise not to drink it all tonight,” Sybill said. Behind her back she crossed her fingers, knowing there was no way she could keep that promise. Wes the house elf gave her a scrutinising look, before sighing and moving to a locked cabinet to the back of the kitchen. He snapped his fingers and the cabinet doors disappeared. He grabbed a bottle and walked back to her. The cabinet doors reappeared behind him. He handed her the bottle.
“Now miss must leave,” Wes said and pointed at the door.
“Thank you,” Sybill thanked him. She headed back to the hallway.
Go. Quick. Grass. Save.
Sybill was confused with what the voices meant. Grass? Save? Save what? Or who? Why are they still talking? Still complaining? She wanted them to leave her alone. But the spirits wouldn’t leave her alone. They hadn’t left her alone after over a hundred requests of doing so, it was an empty wish really. The second she turned her head towards the grand staircase, the voices flared up again.
No. Grass. Save.
She hung her head for a second, twisted the bottle cap and took a large swig. Then she took two more. She turned on her heel and headed towards the outside doors like the voices desired of her.
Good. Go. Save.
The voices weren’t too specific beyond that though. The grounds were vast and she had no direction. She wandered forwards, for once this evening letting the spirits guide her to where they wanted her to go. She came to a fork in the gravel path. One led towards the owlery, while the other led towards the Quidditch pitch and the lake. She came to a stop at the fork.
“Well? You keep screaming whenever I go the wrong way. Where do you want me to go?” she asked the spirits.
Left. Good. Quick. Save.
Sybill sighed, took another swig of her sherry and turned towards the Quidditch pitch. If it had been up to her, she would’ve headed towards the owlery, she hated Quidditch.
The spirits must have felt her disdain as they started to whisper soothing vocalisations. Quidditch was just an objectively horrible sport. Then again, she avoided all sports, so maybe it was sports in general that were objectively horrible. Sports were loud, too many people resulting in too many – often conflicting – auras. People would ask her to predict the outcome and then proceed to get angry when that outcome wasn’t what they wanted to hear. Luckily at the next fork, the spirits told her to go right, towards the lake instead of the pitch. The lake was good, calming, especially at this time of night.
Hurry. Fast. Save.
The voices kept repeating those three words, their urgency increasing. Sybill still didn’t understand what they were leading her towards. They kept telling her to save, but wouldn’t elaborate any further. She steadily kept sipping the bottle of sherry, now already halfway empty. She knew she should be heading back to her rooms if she didn’t want to pass out somewhere along the way, but the voices wouldn’t let her. The second the thought of going back came up, the voices screeched.
NO! GO! SAVE!
“Alright, alright, I’m going,” she slurred. She stumbled on, eyes fixed on the floor right in front of her to make sure she didn’t trip over a stone. She looked up occasionally to make sure she wasn’t suddenly walking into the lake. Then she spotted something pink in the distance. She was about three quarters around the lake – or her bottle, or maybe both, she wasn’t sure.
Yes. Go. Quick! Save!
Hesitantly she stepped forward. The spirits’ encouragement gave her some hope that it wasn’t a dangerous situation she was walking into. The pink thing became bigger and she started to wonder who was out there. It was late, so perhaps it was Hagrid, although she didn’t remember his aura being that shade. She kept moving forward and the pink started to become clouded. Maybe the aura wasn’t as purely pink as she thought. That’s when she recognised it. This wasn’t an aura. It was clothing, and there was only one person who wore clothing that pink. Dolores Umbridge was lying in the muddy grass of the waterline. Sybill wanted to walk past her, but she started to have a sneaking suspicion of what the spirits had been leading her towards. She stopped and closed her eyes.
NOW! GO! SAVE!
Sybill desperately wanted to turn around and leave, but just closing her eyes had the voices raise to such a volume that her ears rang and her head pounded. She didn’t want to know what would happen if she tried to walk away. In fact, they still hadn’t stopped shouting and she started to taste iron. She resigned herself to having to continue and opened her eyes.
She kneeled down carefully next to Umbridge, grabbed her shoulder and hip and flipped her onto her back. She gasped and fell back onto her arse as she saw the state Umbridge was in. Underneath the grime and mud were cuts and bruises. So many, that Sybill didn’t even bother to count. She also strongly suspected that Umbridge’s nose had been broken, if the large amount of blood underneath it and on her chin was anything to go by.
Please. Help. Save.
Sybill kept staring at Umbridge. Was she dead? No, her chest was rising and falling, so she was at least breathing. Sybill fumbled for her wand and levitated Umbridge into the air. She stood up and stumbled her way back to the castle. Several times she had to jerk her wand upwards, as Umbridge came dangerously close to sliding across the ground instead of floating in the air.
Good. Yes. Thanks. Save.
“Your encouragement is much appreciated, but very distracting,” Sybill hissed as she once again pulled Umbridge up into the air. She pushed the door open with her back and manoeuvred Do-… Umbridge inside. A shoulder bumped hard into the door post and Sybill was sure she would’ve added another bruise if the woman hadn’t already been covered in them.
Luckily the Hospital Wing was close to the entrance and she quickly opened the doors to the dark wing. She dropped Dolo-… Umbridge onto the closest bed. She looked to Madam Pomfrey’s office at the end of the room, but it was completely dark. She ran back out and tried the door to Poppy’s private quarters right next to the Hospital Wing.
NO! BACK! SAVE!
“I’m working on saving her! Shut up,” she hissed at the spirits. She tried the door to Poppy’s quarters, but found it locked. She slammed her fist on the door.
“Poppy! Please, I need your help!” she yelled. A minute later, a very sleepy looking Poppy opened the door. “Please, Poppy, I found Dolores” – Dolores? She really had to stop thinking and saying Dolores. The woman was called Umbridge! – “bloodied and bruised at the edge of the lake.”
All the sleep disappeared from the elderly healer’s face and she pushed her way past Sybill. She hurried into the Hospital Wing with Sybill quick on her heels. Because Sybill hadn’t closed the privacy curtain around Do- Umbridge’s bed, Poppy could beeline it to the bed. Her wand and lips moved in quick succession, spells and lights firing left and right.
Help? Good? Safe?
Sybill couldn’t answer the spirits’ anxious questions regarding Dolores’ – oh, whatever, she gave up, Dolores it is – health. She was unfamiliar with healing magics and the only thing that told her what Poppy was doing, was the fact that the cuts on Dolores’ face were closing. After what felt like hours to Sybill, Poppy finally pulled the covers from underneath Dolores and tucked her in.
“Is she going to be okay?” she asked Poppy, hating how her voice cracked.
“Physically she will be. I don’t know what happened, so I can’t say if she will be mentally alright. Thank you for bringing her Sybill, but you can’t do anything anymore for the night. Get some sleep.”
Sybill nodded, yet didn’t move from Dolores’ bedside. Something in her wanted to stay. The spirits were finally settled. Their whispers were no longer anxious, but a soothing and grateful murmur.
Thanks. Good. Happy. Safe.
Poppy grabbed Sybill’s shoulders and physically turned her around. A gentle push had her walking automatically wherever Poppy was guiding her. They stopped in front of Poppy’s quarters and with Poppy’s hands falling away, Sybill couldn’t keep herself moving anymore. Poppy entered her quarters before coming out again shortly after holding two potion bottles.
“Clear is Dreamless Sleep, take it when you’ve gotten to your bed. Green is Hangover Potion, take it tomorrow morning, you’ll need it. Now off to bed with you.”
Sybill hesitated, looking back once more at the now closed doors of the Hospital Wing behind which Dolores was lying. Then she headed back, up to her tower and the bed that was waiting for her. The spirits whispered to her softly all the way up.
Good. Sleep. Thanks. Saved.
A knock rang through Sybill’s private quarters.. She rarely had any visitors, and those who did come by, never knocked. Her tea leaves had predicted a visitor starting with the letter D, which had had her dreading this moment for hours. The spirits’ whispers picked up after having been dormant the past few days. They had realised that Dolores was in the safe hands of Poppy Pomfrey and had finally left her to her own devices. Now they were back.
Good. Happy. Saved.
A stone sank into Sybill’s stomach. This could only mean one thing. Dolores was standing in front of her door. She’d saved the woman and now she was here, ready to kick her out of the castle. She’d reminded the toad of a woman of her existence. How stupid she had been. She should’ve left her to wake up on her own. But no, Sybill had to play the hero. Dumb! And now she’d pay the price.
The knocking continued and Sybill couldn’t ignore it any longer. If Dolores hadn’t left by now, she must know that Sybill was present. Sybill gathered all her courage and walked towards the door. With one last inhale, she opened it. Dolores Umbridge appeared into view, once more dressed in clean pink robes. The cuts in her face were gone and there was only the vaguest hint of bruising. Her nose, while fixed, held the telltale crook of having been broken once. Her hair was once more impeccably styled underneath her pink hat.
What surprised Sybill, though, was how incredibly uncomfortable Dolores looked. Dolores wouldn’t look uncomfortable throwing her out. She’d delight in it, she’d shown that when she’d tried to do it once before when Dumbledore was still around. Maybe she felt a little guilty to do so after Sybill had saved her. It would serve her right. It should make her feel guilty! Sybill noticed that Dolores’ lips were moving and that apparently the woman had been speaking.
“…and if it weren’t for you, I’m sure I would still be there or have been found by students who no doubt would have embarrassed me further. In short, thank you,” Dolores ended her stream of words. Sybill’s mouth practically fell open with that. Dolores Umbridge was thanking her? An awkward silence fell between the two as neither knew what to say after this admission of gratitude.
“I uh… I have tea,” Sybill said eventually. “You want some?”
“Oh, I guess one cup couldn’t hurt,” Dolores accepted. Sybill led Dolores into her private quarters and gestured to one of the two chairs in front of the fire as she went and grabbed another teacup from the cupboard.
Pink. Sweet. Apple. Safe.
The spirits’ whispering confused her slightly. Were they trying to give her tea advice? She did have some sweetened apple blossom tea which she could serve Dolores. And there was one pink teacup left. She’d taken it from the classroom being the last of its kind. She grabbed the cup and the tea and set it out on the small table between the chairs. Dolores had set up the kettle and was taking it away from the fire just as it boiled.
“I hope you don’t mind me boiling the water,” she apologised.
“It’s fine. Here is a cup and I have apple blossom tea if you like that?”
“That’s my favourite, how’d you know?” Dolores gingerly took the tea with an amazed look.
“Must have been a voice in the wind,” Sybill said, half joking, half serious.
Sybill put some tea leaves into Dolores’ cup and poured the boiling water on top, before fixing her own cup of simple earl grey. They were silent for a few minutes as they slowly sipped their tea.
“I really want to thank you again, Sybill. I know I haven’t been very kind to you this year, but you still went out of your way to save me. You could’ve left me in the dirt and I wouldn’t have blamed you. Well… I probably would have, but I would have known in my heart of hearts that it was my own fault.”
“You don’t need to thank me. I probably would never have found you if it weren’t for the spirits shouting in my head to go outside. They led me to you and they forced me to help you. There wasn’t much of my own choice there,” Sybill desperately tried to get Dolores to see. She couldn’t get this credit, she didn’t want it. In fact, it was starting to unnerve her how nice and kind Dolores was being.
“A lesser person would’ve ignored them.” Sybill pulled a face at that remark, but didn’t bother trying to contradict Dolores.
“Besides,” Dolores continued, “there must have been a reason for them to choose you. Your heart is good, Sybill, and that’s why they speak to you. They have excellent taste in… conduits?” Sybill laughed at how Dolores ended that little speech with a question.
“Yes, we call it conduits,” she clarified, while completely ignoring the compliment Dolores just gave her. Dolores drank the last of her tea and held out her cup for Sybill.
“Would you please read my leaves? I’m afraid I never studied any divination.” Dolores managed to look a little embarrassed now – over a simple lack of divinatory studies at that. Sybill knew most of her classes were filled with students wanting an easy grade. She wasn’t stupid. It wasn’t a very popular branch of magic.
She took Dolores’ teacup and took a closer look at the leaves in it. On the bottom she immediately recognised an anchor, a sign for good luck in both business and in love. Next she spotted a ring close to the rim of the cup. Love was close by, but there wouldn’t be a marriage as no heart was anywhere close. Instead there was a swirl that could be interpreted as an S. Sybill didn’t want to interpret it as an S. It was probably just a swirl.
Sybill’s denial of the S in Dolores’ teacup had absolutely nothing to do with the ring and D that had been in her tea leaves over the past days and which had been steadily creeping closer to the rim of her cup. The D and S were just coincidences. She’d meet a nice person named Donald or Dorothy and Dolores would meet a Samuel or Samantha.
“Uh, the anchor I see means you’ll have good luck in your work and the ring means you’ll soon meet someone you’ll fall in love with,” Sybill told Dolores. Dolores’ eyes lit up with excitement and happiness. She took the teacup back from Sybill and put it down on the table without ever breaking eye contact with Sybill. Her fingers gently grasped Sybill’s shawl and pulled her forward, closer and closer until Sybill could feel her breath on her face.
Sybill had to admit that without the perpetual frown on her face, Dolores actually looked quite pretty. When she smiled, her entire face lit up and a small twinkle appeared into her eyes. Sybill hadn’t expected Dolores to smile at her, like… ever. She thought it spoke to Dolores’ character that she was willing to adjust her opinions of people. People had so rarely bothered to dive into her relationship with divination and here Dolores was, trying to understand. Sybill had never felt so wanted if she was honest, and it drew her into the woman in front of her regardless of her previous opinions of the woman. Sybill was getting to glimpse behind the curtain, see through a break in Dolores’ armour and she found she quite liked what she saw. This could very well be a woman she could fall in love with.
Yes. Good. Happy. Safe.
The voices were chittering with excitement and happiness and it took everything in Sybill’s power to remain focussed on Dolores in front of her. Dolores closed the distance between them and placed a gentle kiss on Sybill’s mouth. Her lips were soft and sweet, tasting of the apple blossom tea she’d just drank. Sybill’s eyes drew down to Dolores’ lips as the two of them parted again. How had she never noticed how beautiful they were. How gentle they could be if Dolores wanted them to be. She looked back up into Dolores’ grey eyes. In them was a question, a question so loud, Sybill immediately knew what it was. Did she want more? Merlin, yes she did.
Yes. Love. Happy. Safe.
“Yes,” she whispered in confirmation to Dolores’ silent question. Dolores surged forward and pressed a needier and more passionate kiss onto Sybill’s lips. The spirits chattered and whispered happily at the two of them. A smile broke onto Sybill’s face as she kissed Dolores, but if Dolores had been paying attention, she could’ve seen the pain and hurt mixed with the happiness. Sybill knew this wasn’t going to last. The leaves had told her so, because beside the ring and D there had been mushrooms. A fight would drive them away from each other. But for now, Sybill didn’t care and didn’t want to care. For now, Dolores was using her lips and mouth to make her feel good and loved instead of degrading her. For now, Dolores wanted her and she wanted Dolores.