Post by pinkie on Feb 11, 2009 8:52:00 GMT -5
I am entering this story, a reply to the challenge i set myself. I don't think you are allowed to enter in your own challenges, but i thought it might spark some inspiration in others (not necessarily in the challenge!).
This story is set after the Marauders came to Hogwarts and before the trio arrived. Giving me a lovely slab of Author's Universe
As always it is fluff. Brush your teeth half an hour after reading (otherwise you might brush the glaze of your teeth).
Enjoy!
Object: bracelet
Quote: "Confusion is always the most honest response"
Character: Sybill Trelawny
Sound/smell: patchouli
Flora/fauna: lavender
Choice: chocolate
In times of desperation, people go to sources to give them hope and a lighter outlook on life, sources to help them with answers for problems they see no solution for. Some pray to their respective gods, some meditate. Some eat and some simply 'try to sleep on it'.
Pomona Sprout, professor employed by Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, had tried all of the above. She had prayed, even though she was no religious woman. She had dug trenches in Greenhouse #2 - some said a good form of meditation. She had eaten her way through stacks of semi-sweet chocolate and she had slept on her problems for years now.
Her problem had not been solved. Pomona remembered how her mother had always said that if you waited long enough, your problem would either disappear, or the solution would come. Pomona had always thought: 'Or you die and your problems will have to be solved by others...' Not that she had ever said that out loud to her mother. She wouldn't dare.
Today she was wearing some plain robes, since her work in the greenhouses was either finished or being done by her pupils. She had some very promising students this year. Potential apprentices even. Her work was going very well, she had great friends in Minerva McGonagall and Poppy Pomfrey. She felt respected by the other teachers.
Pomona walked through the well kept gardens to the entrance of the building. Her mind kept going back the problem. She had analysed it and had come to the conclusion that it was not really a problem, as much as an issue. She simply didn't know what to do about a situation.
Filius Flitwick.
She had seen him on the train, the first ever day she would come to Hogwarts. She had been interviewed in London by Albus Dumbledore, so she had not been on the train since she had left the prestigious school herself. She had shared a compartment with Filius Flitwick, Aurora Sinistra and the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. She had forgotten his name, he had only stayed one term.
He mgiht have been short and his voice may have been squeaky, but he had attracted her attention with his quick wit and apparent knowledge of Charms and their uses. Quickly she had found out that he was the Charms professor, but she could have sworn she had seen him somewhere before. Somewhere rather spectacular.
Charms had never been her best subject in school. She was more the practical sort. Good grades for Herbology - obviously - , for Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts. The theoretical stuff had always come second for Pomona Sprout, much to the horror of her father. He was proud of her now, she had done very well in University and being considered for a teaching job at Hogwarts was of course very wonderful. He boasted about it to his friends.
She turned the corner and started climbing the steps. There were several hundred. She needed an answer. Working together with Filius on several projects (decorating the Great Hall, chaperoning trips to Hogsmeade), she had fallen in love with him.
It was silly. Pomona was a stout, plain witch. She had no chance with Filius, the slight, short, incredibly clever wizard, who could duel with anyone and win. He was simply not in her league. Not that Pomona knew who exactly was in her league, but this was how she felt.
But she always felt the fluttering in her stomach when she was near him. She found that she thought of him when working on Fanged Geraniums, Madragora's or even Fluxweed. The full moon - she needed a full moon to pick the fluxweed - always seemed so romantic ans she would have loved to share the sight of it with Filius.
Of course it was all Filius' fault. He was smart and witty and he always treated her with the greatest regard. He laughed when she made a joke, no matter how awful. He had bought her candy from Honeydukes: soft, sweet, light pink roses. He had helped her with spells she had trouble with when she had a bit of a problem with Muggle cockroaches. He was always there for her.
No wonder she had fallen in love with him. Every step she took, she could hear his name: Filius, Filius. As if someone was chanting it. The North Tower was always cold. There was never any direct sunlight comng through the windows. Not that it easily could have, they were mere slits in the thick, stone wall. The scent of patchoeli was already reaching her nostrils. Pomona didn't like it much. She twisted the bracelet that was on her left wrist. Her nerves were pounding in her throat, with every heartbeat she could feel the tension mounting.
She finally reached the door of Sybill Trelawny's classroom. Sybill had not been at Hogwarts long. Pomona has started years ago. She felt very silly she needed the help of someone who communicated with things Pomona had no grip on. Where Pomona was all soil, her feet steadily on the ground, all practical and a steady outlook on the world, Sybill always seemed so misty and vague. Pomona assumed that Sybill was very good at what she did. Dumbledore would never have hired her otherwise.
The door was a heavy oak, but still the smell of patchouli and the sound of New Age music reached Pomona's senses. She knocked. Once. Twice. A third time a lot louder. The door opened and Sybill Telawny stood before her, her hair in a ponytail, wearing a pair of faded, bootcut jeans and a woolen sweater. Pomona hardly recognised her. Sybill was still wearing her thick glasses, which gave her away, but she looked as if she had gone through a metamorphosis.
"Sybill?" Pomona asked, her voice quieter than usual.
"Yes, Pomona? Anything wrong?" Sybill did not sound very misty or vague now.
"Not wrong, as such." Pomona hesitated. Sybill opened the door wide and invited her fellow teacher in.
"Sit down. Would you like a cup of tea?" Sybill sat down on the overstuffed grandfather chair and pointed Pomona another one. Pomona carefully sat down. She had not expected to find a reasonably normal Sybill. She needed to reajust.
"Sybill, i came to you because i would like some advice and i think that perhaps you could help me. Since you have the Sight and all..." Pomona started nervously.
"I see." Sybill replied simply.
"So..." Pomona swallowed. She hardly knew what to do.
"Well, there is always the option of the crystal ball. I could read your tealoeaves when you have finished your cup. I could even try to read your palm. I know all the theory on all of those. But i think you already know what to do." Sybill's voice was very matter-of-factly.
"Perhaps." Pomona sighed and took a sip of the steaming cup of tea Sybill had poured her.
"Just act on that. If it goes wrong, you can always try again."
"Yes."
Pomona felt strangely at ease with Sybill now the woman was so 'normal'.
"Sybill, tell me, why the sudden change in outfit?" Pomona heard how her words sounded strang and mangled. Her thought of them had been quite normal, but she couldn't speak. She tried again. A sleepy sensation ran through her body like wildfire. The room danced before her eyes. She felt how she slumped in the seat, the pillows embracing her. Darkness filled the space.
When Pomona woke up, she recognised her familiar bedchamber. She rubbed her forehead. Had it all been a dream? Now she thought about it, it couldn't have been anything else. As if the work in a greenhouse ever finished! As if she even owned a lovely robe like she had been wearing. But above all, Sybill Trelawny in faded jeans and woolen sweater: that had been impossible.
With her hands folded under her head, she thought about her dream. It had all been too ridiculous. But one thing kept coming back: 'You already know what to do' - or words to that effect. There was truth in that remark. She did know what to do. But it was so scary. What if what she did was the beginning of really big trouble? She did take her meals in the main building after all. Admitting your love to someone, who might not want it at all, could result in some very awkward dinnertable conversations.
Still. If you don't shoot, you surely miss. Right? With a sigh that seemed to come from as deep as her toes, she started her day.
The day she was going to tell Filius Flitwick she was deeply in love with him.
This story is set after the Marauders came to Hogwarts and before the trio arrived. Giving me a lovely slab of Author's Universe
As always it is fluff. Brush your teeth half an hour after reading (otherwise you might brush the glaze of your teeth).
Enjoy!
Object: bracelet
Quote: "Confusion is always the most honest response"
Character: Sybill Trelawny
Sound/smell: patchouli
Flora/fauna: lavender
Choice: chocolate
Advice from an unexpected source
In times of desperation, people go to sources to give them hope and a lighter outlook on life, sources to help them with answers for problems they see no solution for. Some pray to their respective gods, some meditate. Some eat and some simply 'try to sleep on it'.
Pomona Sprout, professor employed by Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, had tried all of the above. She had prayed, even though she was no religious woman. She had dug trenches in Greenhouse #2 - some said a good form of meditation. She had eaten her way through stacks of semi-sweet chocolate and she had slept on her problems for years now.
Her problem had not been solved. Pomona remembered how her mother had always said that if you waited long enough, your problem would either disappear, or the solution would come. Pomona had always thought: 'Or you die and your problems will have to be solved by others...' Not that she had ever said that out loud to her mother. She wouldn't dare.
Today she was wearing some plain robes, since her work in the greenhouses was either finished or being done by her pupils. She had some very promising students this year. Potential apprentices even. Her work was going very well, she had great friends in Minerva McGonagall and Poppy Pomfrey. She felt respected by the other teachers.
Pomona walked through the well kept gardens to the entrance of the building. Her mind kept going back the problem. She had analysed it and had come to the conclusion that it was not really a problem, as much as an issue. She simply didn't know what to do about a situation.
Filius Flitwick.
She had seen him on the train, the first ever day she would come to Hogwarts. She had been interviewed in London by Albus Dumbledore, so she had not been on the train since she had left the prestigious school herself. She had shared a compartment with Filius Flitwick, Aurora Sinistra and the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. She had forgotten his name, he had only stayed one term.
He mgiht have been short and his voice may have been squeaky, but he had attracted her attention with his quick wit and apparent knowledge of Charms and their uses. Quickly she had found out that he was the Charms professor, but she could have sworn she had seen him somewhere before. Somewhere rather spectacular.
Charms had never been her best subject in school. She was more the practical sort. Good grades for Herbology - obviously - , for Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts. The theoretical stuff had always come second for Pomona Sprout, much to the horror of her father. He was proud of her now, she had done very well in University and being considered for a teaching job at Hogwarts was of course very wonderful. He boasted about it to his friends.
She turned the corner and started climbing the steps. There were several hundred. She needed an answer. Working together with Filius on several projects (decorating the Great Hall, chaperoning trips to Hogsmeade), she had fallen in love with him.
It was silly. Pomona was a stout, plain witch. She had no chance with Filius, the slight, short, incredibly clever wizard, who could duel with anyone and win. He was simply not in her league. Not that Pomona knew who exactly was in her league, but this was how she felt.
But she always felt the fluttering in her stomach when she was near him. She found that she thought of him when working on Fanged Geraniums, Madragora's or even Fluxweed. The full moon - she needed a full moon to pick the fluxweed - always seemed so romantic ans she would have loved to share the sight of it with Filius.
Of course it was all Filius' fault. He was smart and witty and he always treated her with the greatest regard. He laughed when she made a joke, no matter how awful. He had bought her candy from Honeydukes: soft, sweet, light pink roses. He had helped her with spells she had trouble with when she had a bit of a problem with Muggle cockroaches. He was always there for her.
No wonder she had fallen in love with him. Every step she took, she could hear his name: Filius, Filius. As if someone was chanting it. The North Tower was always cold. There was never any direct sunlight comng through the windows. Not that it easily could have, they were mere slits in the thick, stone wall. The scent of patchoeli was already reaching her nostrils. Pomona didn't like it much. She twisted the bracelet that was on her left wrist. Her nerves were pounding in her throat, with every heartbeat she could feel the tension mounting.
She finally reached the door of Sybill Trelawny's classroom. Sybill had not been at Hogwarts long. Pomona has started years ago. She felt very silly she needed the help of someone who communicated with things Pomona had no grip on. Where Pomona was all soil, her feet steadily on the ground, all practical and a steady outlook on the world, Sybill always seemed so misty and vague. Pomona assumed that Sybill was very good at what she did. Dumbledore would never have hired her otherwise.
The door was a heavy oak, but still the smell of patchouli and the sound of New Age music reached Pomona's senses. She knocked. Once. Twice. A third time a lot louder. The door opened and Sybill Telawny stood before her, her hair in a ponytail, wearing a pair of faded, bootcut jeans and a woolen sweater. Pomona hardly recognised her. Sybill was still wearing her thick glasses, which gave her away, but she looked as if she had gone through a metamorphosis.
"Sybill?" Pomona asked, her voice quieter than usual.
"Yes, Pomona? Anything wrong?" Sybill did not sound very misty or vague now.
"Not wrong, as such." Pomona hesitated. Sybill opened the door wide and invited her fellow teacher in.
"Sit down. Would you like a cup of tea?" Sybill sat down on the overstuffed grandfather chair and pointed Pomona another one. Pomona carefully sat down. She had not expected to find a reasonably normal Sybill. She needed to reajust.
"Sybill, i came to you because i would like some advice and i think that perhaps you could help me. Since you have the Sight and all..." Pomona started nervously.
"I see." Sybill replied simply.
"So..." Pomona swallowed. She hardly knew what to do.
"Well, there is always the option of the crystal ball. I could read your tealoeaves when you have finished your cup. I could even try to read your palm. I know all the theory on all of those. But i think you already know what to do." Sybill's voice was very matter-of-factly.
"Perhaps." Pomona sighed and took a sip of the steaming cup of tea Sybill had poured her.
"Just act on that. If it goes wrong, you can always try again."
"Yes."
Pomona felt strangely at ease with Sybill now the woman was so 'normal'.
"Sybill, tell me, why the sudden change in outfit?" Pomona heard how her words sounded strang and mangled. Her thought of them had been quite normal, but she couldn't speak. She tried again. A sleepy sensation ran through her body like wildfire. The room danced before her eyes. She felt how she slumped in the seat, the pillows embracing her. Darkness filled the space.
When Pomona woke up, she recognised her familiar bedchamber. She rubbed her forehead. Had it all been a dream? Now she thought about it, it couldn't have been anything else. As if the work in a greenhouse ever finished! As if she even owned a lovely robe like she had been wearing. But above all, Sybill Trelawny in faded jeans and woolen sweater: that had been impossible.
With her hands folded under her head, she thought about her dream. It had all been too ridiculous. But one thing kept coming back: 'You already know what to do' - or words to that effect. There was truth in that remark. She did know what to do. But it was so scary. What if what she did was the beginning of really big trouble? She did take her meals in the main building after all. Admitting your love to someone, who might not want it at all, could result in some very awkward dinnertable conversations.
Still. If you don't shoot, you surely miss. Right? With a sigh that seemed to come from as deep as her toes, she started her day.
The day she was going to tell Filius Flitwick she was deeply in love with him.
