Prophesy Fly

[elucreh.livejournal.com]

Title: Prophesy Fly
Recipient: wolf_cat
Crossover: HP/Discworld
Rating: G
Pairings: H/L, N/G, R/Hr, but only mentioned so it shouldn't squick you.
Summary: Albus ought to know better than to take the advice of a man who regularly drinks Wowow sauce.
Notes: It was mentioned that a porny bunny would be nice. Er, sorry. This is completely porn-free. Pure comedy, a wee bit disjointed, not at all connected to the requests, really, except that it is HP-Discworld. But it's not my fault! That one attacked me! *points fearful finger at rabbit with razor-sharp teeth*



"Oh, yes, Sibyll," Dumbledore assured her. "A change is as good as a rest, even for the Inner Eye, which has no real rest, I know. And you will love Lancre—all clean air and uphill climbs. Lovely weather, simple people…my dear friend Mustrum spent many summers there in his youth…I have his letter here somewhere…" the headmaster paused to search through the parchments piled on his desk, "Yes, he says that he's sure you would enjoy it and that you must be sure to look up his old friend Esmerelda Weatherwax."

"Very well, Headmaster," Professor Trelawney agreed at last. "Perhaps it would be as well to try and clear the Inner Eye before the upcoming battles, in order that it may be of use. A few days of uncomplicated peasant futures may be just what the healer ordered."

"Well, then, my dear Sibyll, as it happens, I have the portal all set. If you would care to step through…that's it, have a good holiday, Sibyll…" the portal snapped shut, "…you old bat."

He turned back to his desk, the letter from Mustrum still lying beside his elbow.

"…So sorry to hear that Sibyll is still fluttering about making a nuisance of herself, old thing…" it ran "…I know you've got the war on and all that. Why don't you send to us for a few days, get her out of your hair? It's all I can do, I'm afraid…you know how well our magics translate…but at least I can do that much. She can go to the opera, visit the palace, eat genuine Big Wahooni cuisine…or better yet, send her to Lancre. You've heard me rave about the air of the place often enough, and you remember me talking about my friend Esmerelda Weatherwax? Sibyll certainly ought to look her up.

And when the war is over and you've got some free time for entertainment you can return the favor and let Minerva run the Dean through a few hoops for me…"

*************************************

Dere sir, the letter pinned to Sibyll's dress ran when she appeared in Albus's office two days later, I am sorie to tell you that our Esme lost hyr head a bit when your layde tol her whot shee ort to be doing to reed the fuchure clean and ryte. It wyll ware off in a bit but in the meentyme you ort to keep hyr cloas to water and mayke shur there is plentey of bugs and simylar about. She wyll also be neding looser robes for the hopping but she ort to wear them looser anyways synse she semed to have truble breething when Esme tol her she was a crock without even any hedology to speek of. And anyways whot I always say is where theres life theres hop just my litle joke.

Yrs faithfuly, Gytha Ogg

Albus sighed, and looked at Sibyll. He ought to have known better than to trust a man who regularly drank Wowow sauce, he told her sadly.

She croaked.

****************************************

Life went on at Hogwarts, anyway. The students, used to adapting quickly in these days of going through Defense teachers like acid through tissue paper and impromptu classes on the Quidditch pitch because another wing of the castle had been blown up, grew used to seeing their former Divination professor hop about the lake, trying to catch dragonflies in her mouth. A few of them were touched with enough pity to bring her dead insects from their Potions supplies, which she accepted with clearly grateful eyes. Trevor grew rather fond of her.

Even Hermione's heart had softened at the sight of their formerly arrogant professor brought so low, and the Golden Trio and their friends took to wandering the lakeshore as they talked, pausing often to splash Trelawney or catch a minnow and slip it into her mouth. Had Sibyll been capable of understanding human speech, she would have been privy to a great deal of information that she could have sold to Lavender Brown for a very high price. She and Hermione were the first to know that Harry was growing attracted to Luna; she watched Harry learn that Ron had finally kissed Hermione, and clap his friend on the back; and she and Trevor provided the background music from behind the reeds when Neville asked Ginny to Hogsmeade.

But she also would have learned a great deal that Voldemort would have been delighted to learn. She heard Harry tell his friends that his Occlumency with Dumbledore was going badly, and she watched from the shadows as the six of them performed rituals on the shore, where land and water met—very badly; none of them had worked to date.

As May drew to a close, in Harry's seventh year, all the students could feel the storm coming to a head. The five people closest to him drew together more often and more tightly, trying to lend strength and support to one another as the final battle drew near. When they could drag Hermione out of the library, where she was desperately cramming for NEWTs and even more desperately searching out ancient blood bonding rituals and battle tactics, they dragged her to the lakeshore, on the grounds that fresh air was good for her. Besides, with exams getting closer, Trelawney would be getting lonely, they told her, and picked up some insects scraped from the flypapers from the house-elves on their way out.

"How can you do this to me?" Hermione demanded, as Ginny and Ron pulled her along by the wrists and the other three served as rearguard. "I'm going to fail my Ancient Runes exam, and Harry is going to die, and it will be your faults because you wouldn't let me stay in the library! Do you realize this? Do you realize it will be on your heads?" She tugged harder, trying to free herself.

Harry rolled his eyes. "One, you are not going to fail any of your exams, and you know it. Two, if I die, Hermione, I promise that it will not be because you spent an hour with your friends feeding your crazy ex-teacher bugs. There are worse ways to spend your final hours than in charitable ingestible insect provision, anyway." Luna smiled at him…the phrase was a joke between them. "More likely," he went on, a bit more gloomily, "I will die because I still do not have one sodding skill that the Dark Lord hasn't. Sure, the Occlumency's going all right. He can keep people out of his head while standing on it. Sure, I'm a decent dueler, but he's more than decent. What exactly—" he demanded of the world, "—do I have that is going to give me any advantage?"

A deep, croaking voice that he'd heard only once before, during his Divination exam in third year, answered. With a single word. "Fly."

He spun to see Trelawney, eyes unfocused, mouth sagging…and the light faded enough that it was almost like being in her fire-lit tower again. She looked and sounded exactly as she had…prophecy. Without a word, he spun around and headed for the Quidditch pitch.

"Harry?" Luna called after him. "What are you doing?"

"Going for Quidditch drills. If I'm going to fulfill prophecy, I may as well be prepared for it."

The five of them stared after him as he jogged off.

"Prophecy?" Hermione looked up at Ron, and then back at Trelawney.

"Fly." Trelawney said again, and swooped at the bowl of insects they'd brought her, licking them up with broad sweeps of her tongue.

"Fly…Hermione, do you realize what this means?" Ginny asked excitedly. "Her mind's coming back! She spoke! She asked for her dinner! Oh, Trelawney, you are coming on, aren't you?"

"Fly." Trelawney gave them a toadish grin, her fly-blackened tongue poking out of her mouth ever-so-slightly.

"Yuck."

*********************************

Harry defeated Voldemort, of course. Firing off spells as he dodged around in the air—"Blast you, hold still!" the Dark Lord had roared—he'd got the man bound in chains and demagicked in plenty of time for Kingsley's Auror response team to gather from the various areas of the battle field and take him in for trial and execution.

They had shoofly pie at the victory feast, and Harry sent a special box of it to Trelawney, who was coming along nicely. "Minnow!" she croaked, swimming towards the center of the lake. Trevor, swimming beside her, thought that perhaps they could teach her to avoid the giant squid next.