Another random idea that came to me, which would never fit into anything else I may write as Professor Trelawney is not someone I can imagine ever basing a whole story on. This is set after Deathly Hallows.
Potter sat me down you know. About a month after the Battle of Hogwarts. He said that I deserved to know the truth. That though oblivious, I had played a big part in what had happened.
Was it my fault? How different would things have turned out? The Dark Lord would not have disappeared for thirteen years as he would never have gone to the Potter's that night. Would he have continued to grow in strength, the war just carried on? Surely, being a wizard of such skill, Dumbledore would have eventually managed to take him down, as he did with Grindelwald all those years ago. Could he have beaten the Dark Lord also?
And that poor boy! Orphaned at such a young age. Because of me. Not that I killed his parents personally you understand; however the act was clearly carried out as a direct result of my words. I should have questioned him on how long he knew. Whether he had to sit in my lessons, knowing that ultimately I was the catalyst behind his parents murders.
My lessons. Looking back, I know I was never a great teacher. Deep down I did wonder whether I had any of my great-great-grandmothers seers' ability in me. Being unaware when one makes a true prophecy, I was therefore unaware I had ever done so.
Dumbledore... He knew all along. I know now that it was to him that I spoke those ruinous words. He humoured my teaching ability to keep me safe at Hogwarts. Something I thank him for as I would have been killed; that I'm in no doubt of, if the Dark Lord had captured me. Upon realising I could no sooner repeat the prophecy entwining himself and Harry Potter than I could recite the Sorting Hat's last 25 songs, he would certainly have disposed of me.
I know too that it was Severus who related half of it back to the Dark Lord. I worked with him for all those years. Not that we shared many conversations, residing at opposite sides of the castle; he in his dungeons and I in my tower, we rarely mixed. But still he knew from the beginning as well. In the end it seemed everyone knew but me. You-Know-Who and Snape. Dumbledore and Potter. Not that I imagine I could have been much use had I known. Having submerged myself in a skill where an end result isn't expected, it doesn't take a genius to gather that I'm no skilled witch.
I remember, as a child being in awe of family stories of the celebrated Cassandra Trelawney. Then, as a student myself, I never really fitted in. I felt safe in Divination lessons. For once I was able to sit up straight whenever my ancestor was mentioned. It gave me a single link to something great. Perhaps some part of my subconscious knew I had the gift too? Either way I clung to it. I wrapped myself up in the blanket of seeing past the mundane. People talked but I made myself impervious to their jeers and laughter. Nevertheless at night, before I slept, there was this little voice in my mind that believed they were right. Over time I managed to silence it. The irony is not lost on me that I used Dumbledore's years of support to quiet my own misgivings. He would not continue your employment at such an illustrious establishment if he did not believe in your ability. Well, he was certainly aware I was gifted with the 'Sight', yet it was not the reason he allowed me my position in his prestigious school.
After I found out the truth I contacted the new Ministry. I only wanted to enquire as to how many prophecies I have made over the years. Apparently I'm not allowed to know. Though they have records of every prophecy made, unless I am the subject they will tell me no more.
Now I am unsure what to do with myself. The school has been rebuilt and Minerva, despite her less than believing attitude in the past, has informed me the Divination post is still there for me if I desire it. And oh, how part of me does! It wants to go back to my tower, to my home. The subject has been my life for over fifteen years. Then again, knowing what I know now, another part of me, I can admit, is terrified. Having spent so long putting on a pretence, flouting my talent as a Seer in the faces of those with more overt magical prowess than I, discovering there was no need for my (admittedly sometimes over-the-top) performances has unnerved me enough and that is without even taking into account the real consequences of my apparent gift. Although some may argue that words I gave so many years ago gave the general populace a reprieve from the terror they had been living in, knowing the effect they had on people I am actually acquainted with makes this other part of me want to spend the rest of my life in isolation. With no one around, there would be no one to act on anything I could say were my ability to manifest once more.