Title:From the Memoirs of a Seer
Disclaimer:None of the characters and properties of Harry Potter belong to me.
A.N:Written because I wanted to see if I could create more depth to a minor character. I may succeed, I may not. I tried.
"Recite back to me the different classifications of Seers, dear."
Sibyll locked her arms behind her back and gazed up at her tutor with solemn eyes, taking a deep breath before answering, "There are three different levels of the Gift that Seers can possess. The most common level is the first, that of the Soothsayer. Those who posses the Gift at the second level are called Visionaries. The most rare level of the Gift is the third, and those Seers are Prophets."
The portrait of Cassandra Trelawney smiled down at her great-great-granddaughter in approval. The sole purpose of her existence was for this – to instruct the future Seers in her line personally – and the young girl before her was a true testament to her blood and the Gift.
"Excellent. Now, tell me what the differences are," she instructed.
Screwing up her nose in concentration, Sibyll thought carefully before wording her answer just so; "Soothsayers are fortunetellers. Their Gift is small, only enough to predict the near future. In fact, some Soothsayers are so limited in their Sight that they need the aid of other objects, such as tarot cards, tea leaves, crystal balls, and star charts. This method is often imprecise and is prone to error."
Cassandra studied Sibyll intently, "Next?"
"Visionaries are Seers who have visions of the future," Sibyll answered promptly. "Visionaries are constantly in danger, as these Seers have historically been coveted by the Dark and used for their visions until Sight Overload occurs."
"And what is Sight Overload?" Cassandra tested her protégé.
"Sight Overload is when a Seer's body gives out on them during a vision, and can lead to madness or death," the young Seer replied.
Cassandra nodded, smiling her approval.
"Prophets are the most rare of all Seers," Sibyll continued, "and their prophecies always come to pass in one form or another. There is a great power involved in prophesying, and thus even the most powerful of Seers can only make a handful of prophecies in their lifetime."
In the portrait, Cassandra leaned back in her cushioned chair in satisfaction. "Very good. It should also be noted that a Seer's Gift often modulates itself during a Seer's lifetime. You, for example, are a natural Soothsayer, one who doesn't need outside aid to predict near events. However, as your body grows, your Gift may increase to match the limits of your body. In a few years, you may become a Visionary, and even a Prophet. The limits of a Seer's Gift cannot be known until the Seer reaches the prime of his of her life, when all growing – mental, physical, and magical – has finished."
Obediently, Sibyll took up her quill and wrote down this new information. She was quickly learning that being a Seer was tricky business, and though many things were known about Seers, there were more things unknown than known.
Suddenly, a thought occurred to her, and she asked the portrait of her great-great-grandmother, "When I first got the Gift – "
"You've always had the Gift of Sight," Cassandra corrected gently. "You mean when your Gift first emerged from dormancy."
"Yes," Sibyll nodded, her black curls bouncing around her shoulders. "It wasn't like now. I knew that a little boy was going to die, but not because I knew it. I knew because I saw him."
"Him?" Cassandra queried, frowning slightly.
Dark blue eyes darting around the room, Sibyll deemed it safe enough to whisper as quickly as she could, "Death."
Cassandra leaned forward in shock, "You saw Death?"
Sibyll nodded, her young face becoming pale and frightened.
"Tell me," her great-great-grandmother's portrait demanded. "Describe to me what he looked like!"
Reluctantly, Sibyll did as she was told. She remembered him all too well, even after three years; that marble visage could never be erased from her memory, nor could she ever forget the chill that had frozen her blood in its veins when his endless gaze had caught hers in that brief moment.
When she was through, Cassandra let out a long sigh. "You have the Inner Eye," she proclaimed.
Sibyll blinked. What in the world was the Inner Eye?
She voiced the question aloud, and Cassandra explained, "The Inner Eye is something that very few people have. It's not limited to Seers, or to magical folk. Muggles can have the Inner Eye as well, as it's really not a type of magic. It's almost a sixth sense, and cannot be fooled. Those with the Inner Eye can see through invisibility cloaks, all manner of illusion charms, and can see spirits and sprites that normal eyes cannot discern, such as Death."
Fascinated, Sibyll frantically filled her parchment with notes, leaving margins where she could later scribble questions that came up when she read the notes over again.
"Most divination books confuse the Inner Eye with the Sight," Cassandra continued gravely. "These books and their authors are grossly misinformed."
"Did you have the Inner Eye?" Sibyll asked, flexing her writing hand to prevent cramping.
Cassandra shook her head, "No. But I did know many who possessed the Inner Eye, and I know for a fact one of them is still alive, the old coot."
Sibyll smiled, "Who?"
"Albus Dumbledore," Cassandra said. "He was but a child when I first met him, but his Inner Eye was quite clear, even at that age."
The name was familiar to Sibyll. "He's the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Damon says he's the most powerful and wise wizard in the entire world."
Cassandra raised an amused brow, "I can't say for certain whether that is true or not; I died before Albus even graduated Hogwarts. But he was a bright young boy, and it wouldn't surprise me if your brother was right."
"I'll see for myself and tell you," Sibyll promised. "Or maybe you can talk to him. Do you think I can take you with me to Hogwarts?"
Cassandra laughed, amused, and eyed the edges of her life-sized portrait. "I don't think I'd fit into your trunk, dear."
"I suppose," Sibyll sighed, then tilted her head as she thoughtfully regarded nothing in particular.
Suddenly, her eyes widened, then brightened, and she fairly chucked her notes on her bed, tossing her quill aside and almost spilling her inkbottle. Excitement burning in her, she ran down the hall and thundered down the stairs, never even hearing Cassandra's confused calls for an explanation. Chest heaving, Sibyll slid into the dining room just as her mother was letting in a regal looking barn owl through the window above the sink.
"It's here!" she fairly screamed. "It's here!"
Maya smiled widely at her daughter, a tightening in her chest easing as she saw her daughter dance around the kitchen, acting her age for one. One of the things she regretted most about Sibyll's Gift was that it had matured her child far too soon.
Sibyll snatched her letter from the owl, ripping the envelope open.
"Dear Miss Valmont," she read aloud, "We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31. Yours Sincerely, Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress."
Just then, Damon, who would be returning to Hogwarts as a fifth year, barreled into the room, breathless. "What's all the noise about?"
Smiling so widely that her cheeks hurt from the strain, Sibyll grabbed a hold of her older brother's arm and jumped up and down.
"I'm going to Hogwarts!"