Sybill Trelawney and the Unexpected Gift | Harry Potter for Grownups

Chapter Five

It was all Sybill's fault. She'd let the Gift control her. And Hope and Fear, but this time, it had been her hope and her fear.

When Umbridge had called her to her office—"and bring your crystal"—Sybill should have known better. She was a Projector, this pink nightmare of a person; her desires weren't very far from the surface, and Sybill hoped that she could satisfy the woman with some minor predictions—true or not—that would make her happy and prevent what Sybill suspected was coming.

Umbridge asked in that little-girl voice of hers, "Will I be Minister for Magic?"

Sybill gazed into her crystal, seeing nothing, as usual, but she gave it a touch of her wand anyway, for show. The mist parted, and she Saw.

Not in the crystal, of course, but inside her.

The fuchsia-stained lips, parted in a silent scream . . . the rotting thing bending over the toad-like face, attaching its shadowy, undead lips to hers . . .

"What? What is it?" Umbridge asked.

"I . . . I don't . . ."

"I see. It is as I suspected at your inspection. You have no Sight," Umbridge said.

She stood, saying, "I was hoping I might be able to amend my report, but as it is—"

"No! I Saw! Truly!"

"Did you?"

Sybill nodded earnestly, and Umbridge gave her an appraising look.

She sat back down and poured a cup of tea from a pot that sat at the side of the desk.

"Drink up, dear," Umbridge said. "Then we can discuss what you Saw."

Sybill drank the tea, to give herself time to make something up—something vague but good enough to keep her job.

When she set her cup down again, Umbridge asked, "And what did you See?"

It was as if Sybill were a bystander, listening in horror to own voice as she told her inquisitor about the vision.

Umbridge's face turned the colour of her dress, and she ordered Sybill out of her office, saying, "Pack your trunks. You leave tonight."

"No, please . . ."

"Out!"

Sybill went back to her room and had just poured the last of her sherry when a house-elf appeared to help her with her trunks.

Her composure lasted until she got to the entrance hall and saw the great oak doors rumble open to eject her into the Darkness that waited beyond Hogwarts.

She howled.

This couldn't be happening.

That awful, that evil woman . . . she was standing there smiling at Sybill. Sybill tried to reason with her once more, but to no avail.

Another vision came to her, terrible and wonderful. She Saw light leaving brown eyes, the creature drawing back, a thin line of saliva forming a glistening, translucent bridge between Umbridge's mouth and the creature's. For just a moment, Sybill rejoiced, but the face of the thing that was left after the Dementor took its infernal kiss turned her bowels to water.

She sank down on the trunk that had landed behind her, moaning and rocking.

Then there was a firm hand on her back, rubbing it, and when she turned to look up at the person offering comfort, she could not quite believe it when she saw Minerva's pointed features looking down at her with an expression she didn't quite recognise.