5 - The Seer
"The Key Of Hearts." He looked at with an amazed kind of awe and respect, but not with the kind of lust that everybody else had ever eyed it with. His brain reeled with information he had once read about the artefact. He had never known that it actually existed. "It will reveal to the bearer the true heart and intentions of any person, when they decide to use it, but with that knowledge it will betray the person whose heart it has seen. It cannot be destroyed, and cannot be taken from the bearer - he or she must offer it freely for someone else to even touch it."
"Of course," Minerva whispered, "I didn't know the catch when I was given it - didn't know it until after I used it. If I had, I would never have done what I did." Tears filled her eyes.
"I was six years old when I was made Keeper." And she was there again.
A little girl with mousy curls stepped through a beaded curtain into a room heavily perfumed with heady, spicy incense, gazing around, eyes wide with apprehension. The room was decorated with glittering orbs and crystals, and the chairs were hung with gauzy, shimmery, tasselled fabric. Minerva was afraid - what if she was judged badly? What if there was something wrong with her?
"Come here, child, come here." a voice wafted from one of the cushiony armchairs, and what had previously appeared to be a collection of shawls and mismatched cushions disengaged itself and shuffled toward Minerva.
"My great aunt was a celebrated seer, as was her mother before her, and her mother before her. My grandmother, as well as my mother, were denied - or spared, depending how you look at it, that gift, as was I. It was customary for every female member of our family to visit at the age of six to have our destiny read. I was dreading it."
Her great aunt, Constance, would have been about sixty, but she looked considerably older. She was thin and gaunt, with sunken cheeks and small, beady grey eyes. Her skin was pale and her hair frizzy and white.
"Come, Minerva," Constance reached out to take her hands; thin, ring laden fingers wrapping around her own, and Minerva was lead across to the table, upon which sat a large, purple tinged crystal ball. "Sit down, girl." she gestured across the table from her, "And let me have a look at your palm."
Minerva did as she was told, fretting that there might be something terribly wrong with her. Her palm was smooth and sweat damp from her nervousness, but if her aunt noticed this, she showed no sign of it, running her long fingernails over the creases of the skin and murmuring incoherently to herself. After an excruciatingly long amount of time, her aunt laid her hand down on the table, but instead of telling her what she saw, she ran her hands across the surface of the orb. Minerva watched in awe as the ball filled with a thick, heavy looking mist. She could make no form out of it, but her aunt obviously saw something, for Constance gasped and clutched both hands to her chest theatrically.
"It can't be!" she exclaimed. "It can't be.you." She eyed Minerva as though she had somehow performed some imperceptible spell to alter the outcome of the reading, then sighed, seeming to realise that what she suspected was impossible. "And I had such high hopes for Sybil."
Of course, Minerva thought. Sybil. Sybil was Aunt Constance's favourite. She was related to Minerva, somehow, like Constance's cousin's daughter or something; Minerva hardly saw her, though when she did see her she despised her.
"But no, no it appears that it must be you." She tried to say it sweetly, but it appeared to be rather bittersweet, leaving a bad taste in her mouth.
"What must be me?" Minerva asked, suddenly afraid of what her aunt was talking about.
But her aunt didn't answer immediately. From around her neck she seemed to be unfastening something, and as she took if off it materialised in her hands. It was a fine gold chain with a large locket on it, the size of a matchbox. She lay it on the table and the chain fell to form a golden snake around it.
"This," she opened the locket to show Minerva what was inside, "Is called the Key of Hearts. It is a precious magical gift. Fate has marked you as the next keeper of the key. When you most need it, you can use the key, and it will look into the heart of any person and tell you their true intentions." She closed the locket again, reached up with the chain and looped it around Minerva's neck. Instantly it disappeared into her skin so that nobody could see it. "You must never tell anybody that you have it, because people will want it. Use it when you must, but only when you must, for be aware that it will have consequences - nothing happens without consequences. Guard it well. Nobody can take it from you unless you give it to them."
It was a tremendous weight to lay upon a six year old.
"Consequences." Minerva said bitterly, spitting the word into the air. "Consequences was all she said. She never told me that the key was corrupt, that it would betray me, because it betrayed me as much as it did anyone else."
She broke off, the words choked in her throat. She couldn't say the rest of what she had been going to say. "But I will tell you, Albus, I will never, NEVER, for the rest of my existence, trust anyone who calls themselves seer."
"The Key Of Hearts." He looked at with an amazed kind of awe and respect, but not with the kind of lust that everybody else had ever eyed it with. His brain reeled with information he had once read about the artefact. He had never known that it actually existed. "It will reveal to the bearer the true heart and intentions of any person, when they decide to use it, but with that knowledge it will betray the person whose heart it has seen. It cannot be destroyed, and cannot be taken from the bearer - he or she must offer it freely for someone else to even touch it."
"Of course," Minerva whispered, "I didn't know the catch when I was given it - didn't know it until after I used it. If I had, I would never have done what I did." Tears filled her eyes.
"I was six years old when I was made Keeper." And she was there again.
A little girl with mousy curls stepped through a beaded curtain into a room heavily perfumed with heady, spicy incense, gazing around, eyes wide with apprehension. The room was decorated with glittering orbs and crystals, and the chairs were hung with gauzy, shimmery, tasselled fabric. Minerva was afraid - what if she was judged badly? What if there was something wrong with her?
"Come here, child, come here." a voice wafted from one of the cushiony armchairs, and what had previously appeared to be a collection of shawls and mismatched cushions disengaged itself and shuffled toward Minerva.
"My great aunt was a celebrated seer, as was her mother before her, and her mother before her. My grandmother, as well as my mother, were denied - or spared, depending how you look at it, that gift, as was I. It was customary for every female member of our family to visit at the age of six to have our destiny read. I was dreading it."
Her great aunt, Constance, would have been about sixty, but she looked considerably older. She was thin and gaunt, with sunken cheeks and small, beady grey eyes. Her skin was pale and her hair frizzy and white.
"Come, Minerva," Constance reached out to take her hands; thin, ring laden fingers wrapping around her own, and Minerva was lead across to the table, upon which sat a large, purple tinged crystal ball. "Sit down, girl." she gestured across the table from her, "And let me have a look at your palm."
Minerva did as she was told, fretting that there might be something terribly wrong with her. Her palm was smooth and sweat damp from her nervousness, but if her aunt noticed this, she showed no sign of it, running her long fingernails over the creases of the skin and murmuring incoherently to herself. After an excruciatingly long amount of time, her aunt laid her hand down on the table, but instead of telling her what she saw, she ran her hands across the surface of the orb. Minerva watched in awe as the ball filled with a thick, heavy looking mist. She could make no form out of it, but her aunt obviously saw something, for Constance gasped and clutched both hands to her chest theatrically.
"It can't be!" she exclaimed. "It can't be.you." She eyed Minerva as though she had somehow performed some imperceptible spell to alter the outcome of the reading, then sighed, seeming to realise that what she suspected was impossible. "And I had such high hopes for Sybil."
Of course, Minerva thought. Sybil. Sybil was Aunt Constance's favourite. She was related to Minerva, somehow, like Constance's cousin's daughter or something; Minerva hardly saw her, though when she did see her she despised her.
"But no, no it appears that it must be you." She tried to say it sweetly, but it appeared to be rather bittersweet, leaving a bad taste in her mouth.
"What must be me?" Minerva asked, suddenly afraid of what her aunt was talking about.
But her aunt didn't answer immediately. From around her neck she seemed to be unfastening something, and as she took if off it materialised in her hands. It was a fine gold chain with a large locket on it, the size of a matchbox. She lay it on the table and the chain fell to form a golden snake around it.
"This," she opened the locket to show Minerva what was inside, "Is called the Key of Hearts. It is a precious magical gift. Fate has marked you as the next keeper of the key. When you most need it, you can use the key, and it will look into the heart of any person and tell you their true intentions." She closed the locket again, reached up with the chain and looped it around Minerva's neck. Instantly it disappeared into her skin so that nobody could see it. "You must never tell anybody that you have it, because people will want it. Use it when you must, but only when you must, for be aware that it will have consequences - nothing happens without consequences. Guard it well. Nobody can take it from you unless you give it to them."
It was a tremendous weight to lay upon a six year old.
"Consequences." Minerva said bitterly, spitting the word into the air. "Consequences was all she said. She never told me that the key was corrupt, that it would betray me, because it betrayed me as much as it did anyone else."
She broke off, the words choked in her throat. She couldn't say the rest of what she had been going to say. "But I will tell you, Albus, I will never, NEVER, for the rest of my existence, trust anyone who calls themselves seer."