Unpredictable

She thinks she knows everything. What authority does she have, anyway?

If you ask me, everything she says is rubbish. She's a fraud. And completely batty to boot. And Gryffindor won't win by sixty points today . . .

Damn it!

~#~#~#~

She's so unpredictable. That's what I like about her. From her cropped hair to her cat-like yellow eyes, she's an oddity. She doesn't believe in fate; she believes in chance. Ever since we were at school together, she wouldn't hold with anything I said.

Now I believe in fate more than ever.

I think I'm gradually losing control.

I'm about to do something . . . unpredictable.

~#~#~#~

They were thrown together in a haze of sherry and mistletoe. The other teachers grin.

They were never taken seriously anyway, but now they're objects of whispered gossip and scandalised giggles. They can't help but notice, and they wonder, as they are stared at, as the gasps of shock, and the disbelieving “She didn't!”s echo through the halls – what happened last night?

And why am I inexplicably happy?

~#~#~#~

Sybill has always been grateful for her gift, but right now she would give anything to be able to see into the past.

Dumbledore, for Merlin's sake, just winked at her. Winked! And he's twinkling so much its a wonder people don't wear sunglasses to look at him.

What did I do? she asks herself desperately. She swears that she will never touch sherry again. It is a vile drink, she tells herself.

Uh oh . . .

As if it's a premonition, the Divination teacher has a sudden suspicion that that 'I' should be a 'we'.

What now?

~#~#~#~

Oh god. I couldn't have predicted this. Ha, not even she could have predicted this.

Shit.

I won't be able to show my face in school again. I suppose now I'll avoid her. Predictably. I wish I were allowed my own hut, Like Hagrid.