Authors note: This concept had kept coming back to my mind for months, so I thought I'd write it and get it out of my system.
Like most of my work there is no long-term plan for it. I feel it is only one arc completed, but I'm not really sure where I'd go with the story beyond this.
The OC's are important but minor, and hopefully wont put people off reading the story.
The death of Professor Trelawney was regrettable - an avoidable accident, she seemed to have fallen down the grand staircase late one night and broken her neck, leaving poor Argus Filtch to find her body in the morning - and Albus Dumbledore did mourn for her.
It would be safe to say that he was never particularly close to her – he was far older than her with different interests, and Divination as a subject never truly held much appeal to him, so it couldn't really be said that they were friends – but he considered her a colleague and was fond of her, in a way. So, yes, he did grieve for her loss.
Still, as Headmaster of Hogwarts he had a responsibility to find her replacement and that's what he was doing.
In truth, if the school year had been over he would have considered scrapping the subject altogether. There were few people in existence gifted with true sight and such little success within the subject from a purely academic perspective that one might consider it a drain on resources and nothing more. Yet as the school year had yet to conclude the subject still needed a teacher to see the term out fully, so any significant changes would have to wait until the summer.
And, if he was entirely honest, there was a little personal interest in this meeting, because the name of the applicant had been eye-catching.
Hadrian Alexander Peverell.
The Deathly Hallows remained a subject dear to his heart even now, and the Peverell name was enough to spark the interest.
Dumbledore allowed the possibilities of new knowledge to flitter across his mind even as he climbed the stairs of the Three Broomsticks on route to their pre-planned meeting point.
He opened the door to find a slightly built young man with black hair staring out of a window and idly toying with a necklace.
"Good morning"
Dumbledore greeted the man.
"Hadrian Peverell I presume. I hope you haven't been waiting too long."
The young Peverell turned to face him, his green eyes somewhat glassy, as if he wasn't in the moment. He stood still for a moment, just long enough for it to be awkward, before he clenched his hand around the gem of his necklace and seemed to shake himself.
"Ah, oh, I-I'm sorry Professor. I was miles away. I wasn't waiting at all. Erm, yes, I'm Hadrian Peverell. It's nice to meet you."
He held out his arm as if to offer his hand for a handshake before seeming to shake to himself again and withdraw.
Curious.
"I would shake your hand but, erm, I suffer from psychometry, you see. It's hard to control, and I'd rather try and stay in the moment with a job interview."
"Indeed. Never mind. Let's get to the business at hand. Take a seat, please, and we'll begin"
Dumbledore sat across from the young man, with a table between them, and a teapot with cups upon a tray with biscuits.
"I'll be honest with you Mr Peverell, I'm not certain this will be a long term appointment, even if I do give you the job. I don't think there's much of a future in Divinations as an academic field"
"With respect, Professor, that's because it's so badly taught"
"How so?"
Hadrian opened his mouth to speak, then paused and took a breath.
"…true sight cannot be taught. One cannot learn to be a seer. You are either born with the ability or you are not. Divination, however, is a teachable skill. It requires mental discipline, and a certain…fine tuning of a person sense of magic, and it is not so much seeing the future as it is becoming more aware of one's self."
"That's an interesting hypothesis. And how would you say the current methods of teaching hinder this?"
"To be frank, Divination is seen as a joke subject. Because true sight is so rare it is considered a sham, or, at best, a clever trick to amuse friends. A healthy dose of scepticism is fine but too often it is ridicule and scorn when directed toward Divination. In truth, this is partly the fault of true seers. As I'm sure you can imagine, being aware of every possible future and unable to control the visions of them can be maddening and drive someone insane, so there are natural fail-safes to protect the seers mind. The most frequent failsafe is specific amnesia. A true seer very rarely remembers their visions. They often black-out, and have gaps in their memories, which can cause some to doubt if they have true sight at all, which, in turn, can lead some to making many false predictions in an attempt to…live up to the image, I suppose.
"But in teaching to those without true sight, I'm afraid too much attention is often placed on the seer than on the lesson. Students could be taught about the history of the subject, or famous seers and their prophesies, how to interpret visions and prophesies, different types of foresight and how reliable each had proven, and, of course, how to focus one's mind to mimic the skill – how to divine. Instead the focus of lessons is often on the teacher, in their own search for validation for their abilities, and in pleasing them by playing along with half-hearted predictions which are catered towards the teacher's preferred type of vision yet using none of the skills required to actually make them.
"As a field of academic study there is so much to Divination which rarely gets examined, so much which is rarely taught, that it is a barren landscape indeed. A person doesn't have to have true sight to be able to understand the subject, but there is little passion to do so to begin with, and what there is tends to be trampled down by sceptics, mockery and failings in teaching methods.
"As I said, there is no way to teach true sight, but the focus of the mind required for the mimicry to divine could be a useful tool for so many young people, and it is truly a shame that so many never have the chance to learn this skill."
Dumbledore stroked his beard and sat back in his chair.
"You certainly have passion for the subject"
He said at length.
"And you raise some good points. It's certainly something to consider for the future, but lets move on to practical skills. If you are to teach this subject then you must be able to demonstrate some of the methods of Divination. I take it you do not claim to be a true seer?"
The Peverell seemed to shake himself again, and once more grasped his necklace tightly.
"U-unfortunately I am."
"You are? Unfortunately? I'm not sure I understand."
"Well, the thing is…I was born with the ability of true sight but, by a quirk of fate, I don't have a fail-safe. I cannot turn it off and I do not forget visions. I have to ground myself in the moment or else I can be overwhelmed."
"This is a bit of a concern if you are to be a teacher. How do you control you visions? What method do you use to ground yourself?"
"It's, er, a bit tricky. I had to use a special insulating charm for a long time to block the visions, and that's still an option, but I have learned occlumency to help focus my mind, and I have this!"
He held up his necklace, which was a simple silver chain carrying a red gem, no larger than a penny, but which seemed to flicker as if it was on fire.
"This is an heirloom from the last of my ancestors who had true sight. It's…a homunculus. A stone which mimics life, and brings inanimate object to motion, but, when bonded to a seer, helps to ground them and focus them on the moment rather than being lost to the visions."
"I've heard of homunculi before – it's a skill of alchemy I believe – but I can't say I've ever heard of one being used in that fashion."
"Well, it…I don't think it's a well known thing, or maybe this one's unique, but it works for me. I can promise you that."
"I will take your word for that at the moment, though I'm sure you'll understand if I keep an eye out for any changes should you get the job."
"Yes sir."
"Now, to the practical business."
Dumbledore pulled out a crystal ball and put in on the table.
"Tell me what you see in this."
Hadrian reached towards the ball, and then hesitated.
"It's, er, probably best if I touch it."
He explained.
"Psychometry is particularly strong in seeing the history of a person or an object, and that's the most effective way I could prove to have a practical skill in this area – at least, the most controllable. I could just look into it, but I could see anything and prove nothing to you, but if I touch it I would know its history and you could confirm if I'm right. After all, there is no other way I would be able to know about it's origin except via psychometry."
Still he hesitated.
"…this…this might take a while. It's hard to control after all…here goes…"
Dumbledore sat back and observed.
The moment Hadrian Peverell's hand touched the crystal ball he froze. It was as if all the life drained out of him and he became a statue of flesh and blood. He did not even appear to be breathing.
Minutes passed by and not a sound or movement came from the young man. Dumbledore settled in and drank his tea, and ate a biscuit.
At last Hadrian gave a gasp and withdrew from the ball as if he had been burned. His face drained of all colour and he looked like he was about to be violently ill. He huddled over, one arm cradling his stomach while his other hand covered his mouth.
Dumbledore lean forward in concern.
"What happened? Are you alright?"
Hadrian shook his head and took several audible gulps.
"That…"
He waved his hand at the ball.
"That…ball…belonged to Professor Trelawney, didn't it?"
"Well, yes, it did. Is there a problem with that?"
Hadrian struggled to compose himself, and struggled to keep the contents of his stomach in place.
"Professor…a-a true seer…would never willingly use another seer's fulcrum. A seer leaves a personal impression on their fulcrum and, quite aside from it being a serious violation of personal space and privacy – akin to seeing someone completely naked without their consent – you run the risk of being caught in a vision loop. That's where your vision through the fulcrum is mixed in with visions they've had previously, and you can lose yourself within it. It can be fatal to a true seer."
"I'm sorry. I didn't realize. I had no idea this could be so dangerous."
"It's another reason this subject needs to be taught better, but this has, at least, made something clear."
"Oh?"
"I'll tell you for certain – Professor Trelawney's death was not entirely an accident. I've see it. I know how it happened. You have something very dangerous lurking in your castle, and, if you don't act, Professor Trelawney won't be the only victim."