I seriously don't know what I was thinking when I wrote this. Let's just call it a daze, shall we? Really, though, it was strange. I think I have the inner eye. It possessed me! That would explain it...
Anyway, this is SO different from what I usually write. I hope you would still find it interesting! I want to thank all of the reviewers that gave me feedback on my writing (do not have mercy! I need you to be honest!). You all really helped. So, this is when I disclaim all rights to Harry Potter and the books. And THIS, is where I wish you a most delightful read! Enjoy!
Prophecy Number 3285 – The Silver Child
By
Yuval25
"The inner eye! Possess the inner eye! Focu-"
"Professor, I think the lesson's over," a Gryffindor chirped from his seat at the back of the class.
Trelawney stopped her loud speech, her hands returning to her sides and her expression turning grim. "Class dismissed," she said hoarsely, staring into space.
A few Slytherins giggled as they passed their immobile teacher on their way out. A Gryffindor girl looked at her professor worriedly, hesitation briefly before joining her friends. The class slowly emptied, leaving the Divination professor and a lone Slytherin boy in the shabby, chaotic room.
"Class is over, child," Trelawney said as she awakened from her daze. The whispers disappeared after she blinked a few times, and she sighed in relief.
The boy, a third year, looked at her with silent fascination. He was fidgeting, nervous. She started collecting the tea cups and leaves from the floor and tables. The children have made a mess of the room when they hasted to leave.
She looked up when a movement caught her eye. The boy was now standing, leaning over a table and picking up a broken cup. He gathered the leaves that were sticking to the tablecloth, putting them in the cup. He looked at her, and to her utter terror she saw a white steam in his haunted green eyes.
She rushed to him, taking his head in her hands and forcing him to look into her eyes. He didn't flinch, didn't even look at her in disgust when she touched him, as she was sure the other students would have done. No – he just kept looking at her tiredly, almost in resignation. Her own eyes opened widely in shock.
No. No!
"I think I have the inner eye, Professor Trelawney," the child whispered. His voice was terrified, but his eyes held none of the fear that was in his tone. "I hear them whisper…"
"Embrace the inner eye, child. Do not fight it," she ordered sternly. The child did not seem to hear her, wearing that familiar expression she used to have, and kept murmuring.
"… er ta… n… or de…ma.. er ta… n… or de… ma.." he chanted. She knew what he was doing. After all, she had done so herself many times as a child. He was trying to tell her what they were telling him. The prophecy was not ready to be heard, however, and so he could only choke out parts of words, making no sense.
"Shh, child. Do not resist. Look," she closed his eyes with her thumbs and pressed very lightly. It was a method she came up with as a child to stop the whispers. This way, the inner eyes would lose focus and surrender to the outer eyes, the conscious sight. "Look," she repeated, letting go of his eyelids.
He opened his eyes slowly. The white mist was gone without a trace, and a flash of recognition lit his eyes as he became aware of his surroundings.
He frowned at the close proximity, taking a step back. Trelawney braced herself, expecting the mocking sneer she knew for many years as a Seer. It never came, though, and the boy soon returned to stand in front of her, his eyes guarded and suspicious.
"What did you do?" he asked her, his voice no longer soft and quiet but strong and accusing.
It must have been the tea leaves that aroused such a strong reaction in the young boy, Trelawney thought. In children, the inner eye does not wake until something causes it to stir. Predicting the future with tea leaves is one of the less gentle ways to open the inner eye. She reminded herself to build a different curriculum that would be easier on the younger children.
"This felt different. What did you do to me?" He raised his voice. His cheeks colored pink with anger and frustration.
"I helped you-"
"I was fine! I'm fine!" he yelled, picking up his bag and practically running out of the classroom.
Trelawney closed her eyes, once again hearing the whispers. She let go and let herself drift into the white mist.
'White shall cut into the soft flesh of the Silver. Walls of ancient stone shall rise to protect. A month before the end of the Thirteenth Age, Sight shall strike the delicate mind of the Silver.'
Another meaningless prophecy. Trelawney sighed as she straightened her back, an act that was so rare due to the lack of power she had over her muscles. The inner eye did not come without a price, even to those who never wished it.
She did not know how much time has passed since she sank into the prophetic daze. It could have been minutes, considering the fact that the class was empty, or an entire hour passing without her notice, the students entering and upon seeing their invalid Professor, leaving.
It could have been days.
Trelawney was sure someone would have come to check on her condition had she been unresponsive for that long, though, and so she returned to her monotonous routine.
Three months later, sitting in the Great Hall at lunch, Trelawney witnesses the collapse of the young boy's mental walls as he froze, letting his fork fall onto the full plate, and stared blindly ahead.
His peers noticed something was wrong almost immediately, but it was already too late – the boy was no longer in the material world. He has already been sucked into the spiritual dimension, which, despite common belief, had lurking dangers of its own.
Soon, a commotion started at the Slytherin table. The Gryffindors were curiously peering over the Slytherins' shoulders, trying to find out what it was all about. Apart from a few impulsive first and second years that couldn't resist learning what was wrong, the Ravenclaw table was quiet and didn't get in the way of the Headmaster, Professor Snape and Trelawney as they rushed to the scene.
Professor McGonagall was not far behind, ushering straying children back to their seats and reassuring a few worried students that everything was under control.
Headmaster Dumbledore was the first one to notice the white mist in the Slytherin boy's eyes. His eyes widened noticeably and he gestured Trelawney to come and take a look. As soon as she saw the young child's eyes she was sucked into an all-too-familiar world of white steam and whispers.
Gently, so the boy won't panic, she started to push past his mental shields. Fortunately, her soft and calm intrusion did not alert the already so breakable trust the delicate mind had placed in her foreign one. It didn't take long before she started to feel the heavy pressure of the Seer's burdening power. And when she was finally close enough to see it, she was not surprised at the sight of the total and utter chaos the young boy's mind-space was in. Still, that didn't stop her from gasping at the violent destruction the boy was a victim to.
A Seer's prophecy was private, not something to be heard directly by anyone, and so she couldn't interpret the message that was being passed to the boy. No matter, she though, he'll be released from it soon enough.
Slowly, she started to expand her own mind. She kept her slow pace until her mental walls completely enveloped the younger, tender mind. The whispers stopped at once. Before she could as much as reassure the fragile mentality, she was tossed, or more rightly phrased – pulled, out of the young mind.
She let out a startled shout as she came back to the material world, or as many would call it, the 'real world'. She was shaking with tremors that were the result of the inconsiderate exit.
Around her, the students and staff were wearing anxious, worried looks. She wasn't surprised that the one to drag her out was the ministry's devil-sent official, Madam Umbridge. The woman did not have a bright future, as the whispers kept telling her.
She did her best at glaring at the hateful woman, failing miserably when the other just giggled at her. That was another thing that unnerved her about the woman – her giggling was a mask, hiding her true self. Masks were never a good thing, in Trelawney's opinion.
"I believe this is enough of the imaginary help your… questionable professor is believed to provide, isn't it, Headmaster Dumbledore?" she said in a false sweet voice.
The Headmaster only looked at her indifferently, although a spark of annoyance was present in his otherwise merry eyes, visible only to those who knew him well. "I think we are done here, Madam. There is no need for your service. As you can see, the boy's situation has been taken care of. Wouldn't you agree, Professor Trelawney?" he turned his head slightly towards her.
"Y-yes, Headmaster," she hoarsely stammered.
"Very well," he then turned to regard the nervous children that have gathered around the now unconscious boy. "I believe you all have classes to attend at this moment." And then he said in a lower voice, for only the closest Slytherins to hear, "I will see to it myself that Mr. Silverheld is in good hands."
Trelawney crouched beside the boy, opening his eyelids just barely. She gave a small smile when she saw no white smoke decorating his pupils. She has managed to defend the child against the mighty force of the Seer's overwhelming power.
Madam Umbridge huffed and walked in short, quick steps out of the Hall. The clicking of her heeled shoes on the stone floors of the castle faded away.
"Sybill, is he out of danger?" the Headmaster asked her. She raised her body, with quite the difficulty, mind you, and faced the elderly, wise man.
"He is a Seer, Headmaster. A strong one. He possesses the true power of the inner eye!" she gushed, the words coming out in a jumbled mess as she couldn't contain her excitement and fright.
"You must be calm, Professor. Now is not the time to surrender to an emotional crisis. You must tell me, is he safe?" the Headmaster demanded.
"For now, Headmaster. I cannot promise he will know how to handle an inner mental attack like this in the future," she whispered. Her voice was strained, another effect of the Seer's wild nature. She has yet to find a way to control the volume of her voice when she is under a prophetic daze, and the constant screaming and yelling has not left her voice unharmed.
The Headmaster sighed, his old face setting in a sad expression for a moment before returning to the usual confident, playful one.
"Well, let us bring this young man to the Hospital Wing, where I'm sure Poppy is already waiting for him." He levitated the boy, careful not to let his head fall back or hit something.
True to the Headmaster's guess, Poppy already knew of the incident in the Great Hall. The students apparently could not find a different topic of conversation other than the most recent event. She had several potions ready on a tray she held and upon seeing the Headmaster holding his wand to the unconscious boy, she signaled him to lay the child on a bed, which he did very gently.
"Legilimency?" she asked, already in motion. She opened a purple flask.
"Not quite," the Headmaster chuckled, and then his expression turned serious. "Mr. Silverheld has just experienced a mental breakdown caused by overdeveloped Seer's powers. Professor Trelawney managed to stop it, but she was interrupted after she finished securing his mental shields."
Poppy's eyes widened in surprise. "The boy is a Seer?" she asked the Headmaster.
"It seems so," he told her.
Trelawney had the impression he was expecting her to say something, to confess some wrongdoing. She could not betray the trust the young Seer had in her, though. His private prophecies were not the Headmaster's property, and neither was the time he predicted them. She would not tell him of the incident a few months ago. She wouldn't.
When the Headmaster turned to face her, Trelawney was a nervous wreck and could feel sweat forming on her forehead.
"Professor, due to the unexpected turn of events, would you agree to keep an eye on the young man? An apprenticeship, if you will," he said kindly.
Trelawney could only stare at him. Her? Teaching a Seer?
When she got over the initial shock, she said, "I will guide him to be a great Seer. The art of Sight plants itself into newborn babies, and therefore I accept the offer and shall help the boy thrive."
Laughing gleefully, the Headmaster thanked her. He said his goodbyes and left the Infirmary, followed by the rest. Professor Snape casted one last glance at the boy and turned to leave. On his way out he said, "Better teach him some Occlumency, Professor."
Trelawney took a seat next to the boy's bed, looking at his young face. Poppy finished tending to him with her charms and a potion she injected him through his vain and left as well, leaving Trelawney alone with the boy.
When the Infirmary was finally empty, Trelawney sighed. She now had to take in a charge. She had a responsibility. Teaching one the art of Sight would not be simple by any means, but she was sure that a Slytherin such as himself would appreciate the gifts he had been blessed – or cursed – with, and with his House's tendency to be ambitious – yes, she thought they would get along just fine.
After an hour of waiting, the boy finally awoke. He rubbed his eyes and groaned at the headache he had, a result of the mental attack, no doubt.
When he saw Trelawney, he sighed.
"So you know," he said insecurely.
"I do, child," she replied eagerly. Now that he was awake, they could begin working on his mental defense. Professor Snape's advice was noted, it seems. "The Headmaster has been informed."
"And I guess now I have to learn how to live with it?" he asked. His green eyes, clear of any mist, held a spark of excitement despite the complaint in his tone.
"Our journey to the future begins today, young child," she smiled at him. Normally, when she smiled, people would think her a crazy woman. This child, though, understood. He was indeed fit for being her apprentice.
"I'll be fourteen in a month. I'm not a child," he scowled, though she could tell it was playful.
"I know," she said, remembering her own prophecy. 'A month before the end of the Thirteenth Age…'
"So… should we choose a time and place?"
Trelawney examined him one last time. He looked eager to learn, diligent, youthful. His question only showed how much he wanted to learn how to be a Seer. He seemed like a brilliant student. Would he have any problem with her being his guide, though, just because his peers think her crazy?
She smiled at him. He smiled back.
It's set, then.
"Let's," she said.