Never have I written a whole Harry Potter story, but I thought I'd have a crack at it. I hope I do this story justice. It's an amazing series, and I recommended both the stories and the movies. Srsly. JK Rowling is the epitome of badassery, and I bow to her writing skills. That is all.
This story takes place after the war.
Evie POV
Dropping my hand for the eighth time, I felt my heart pound harder in my chest as I stood outside of classroom 5C, for my Saturday meeting with Professor McGee. It was horrifying - I felt like I was walking into my doom.
"You going to knock, love?," Draco asked, from my side. He asked to come along, and even though I didn't really want him to, because it felt like a private moment, I said he could. I glanced up at him, and admitted, "It's a little nerve-wracking, that's all."
He smiled, comfortingly, and said, "Come on," he reached out for my hand, and continued, "I'm here for you."
With a brilliant smile, I reached for the knob, and twisted, pushing open the door. The professor had sat at her desk, probably marking whatever homework that she had set that week, and as she glanced up, she exclaimed, excitedly, "Welcome, Ms Kendall! And.. Mr Malfoy."
She slid from the chair, her dull plum-colored dress robes had been tailored to fit her body, perfectly, and she swept over to my scruffy, unpolished form, and placed her hands on my shoulders, her eyes flashing with some unknown emotion, and said, "Come.. Sit, we have much to discuss."
Her fingers were cool against my hands and she drew me up the stairs behind her desk, and into her office. She slipped into her chair, and indicated that me and my blonde lover should do the same. Upon taking my seat, I crossed my ankles; the left behind the right, the same way Cissy had taught me, and waited until she began. She clasped her hands together, a cheeky glint in her eyes, and said, "So.. You have told Mr Malfoy about what we discussed, I presume?"
Nodding, in acquiescence, to which she continued, thoughtfully, "Would you mind if I asked what your relationship is? Due to my gift, I can see that young Mr Malfoy is a Veela."
I glanced at Draco from the corner of my eye, and I noticed that his entire expression hardened at her words. He asked, coldly, "And how did you come up with that notion?"
She met his cold stare with an equally frosty one of her own, and said, her tone very pointed and matter-of-fact, "I've met your father. I know a Veela when I see one."
He 'tsk'-ed, slightly, but said nothing else. I could tell he was a little embarrassed at this, but I simply rubbed his hand, soothing his somewhat bruised ego, then I asked, "What about me? You said you couldn't sense what I was, but.. I'm part Veela. Shouldn't you have gotten even a bit of a clue?"
She smiled, warmly, at me, and said, "No. You have the DNA of two different genus running through your veins, meaning, in retrospect, you are a completely different species of your own. The first of your kind."
At my slightly nauseous, worried expression, she assured, "You are the first vampire-Veela, but not the first witch that I had met who belongs to two different supernatural species to ever come to light. There are elf-giants, nathair-wolves, farkas-vampires. There's a load of them, more so than we can count, and its all down to the mating bonds and inheritance."
Quietly, I asked, "So you know about our mating bond?"
She pursed her lips, fractionally, and said, "Sure.. But, if I'm correct, shouldn't there be a third to your trio?"
Blushing, I grinned, and dipped my head. I replied, "Blaise.. He's the counterpart to my vampire half."
She quirked her brow, slightly, and asked, "Mr Zabini? Hmm, I had never spoken to him before, but I hear good things. Very intelligent boy, he is."
"Thank you."
She asked, then, "When I told about your Sight, you mentioned something about colors.. Do you mind explaining what you were talking about?"
Draco snapped his head to face me, a questioning expression overtaking his features - his brow furrowed, and his lips frowned, however I couldn't focus on him. I leaned forward a little in the chair, and said, "I always see the colors. They come from inside everyone that I meet here. I can't explain it.. I just know how strong they are. Their go-to spells, their offensive, defensive and attack motions. I know how they will react, how they think, how they work. I just.. Do."
"So its like an aura?"
Shaking my head, I said, "No.. Its more like a beacon of specifically colored light shining in everyone's chests. Not where their heart is, but near it. I think its their magical energy, but I'm not certain. I don't know for sure. The intensity of the colour tells me everything I need to know. They're magical signature is always different depending on the person."
Draco commented, his voice small and I could detect the hurt in his tone, "You didn't tell me this.."
I grasped his hand with both of my own, and knitted our fingers together, then drew small circles on the fleshy part of his palm, and murmured, "I didn't want to worry you."
His expression cooled, but there was hurt deep in his eyes that he couldn't hide from me, and I felt my stomach twist at the sight. He seemed to be disappointed in me, he felt betrayed, but at the time, I had thought it had been normal. He said, "Too late."
Solemnly, I turned to the professor who had watched our conversation curiously, and asked, "What does that make me? I mean you said you were sensitive to another individual's biological classification.. Does that mean I'm aware of people's magic?"
She smiled, cheerily, "No, dear, it means you're so much more than what I had first thought."
She stood then, and walked to her bookcase. She pulled out a pretty thick, dusty book, with aged pages and it emitted the distinct scent of mothballs and the sheer knowledge that exuded from the black ink made my fingers itch. The front of the book was embedded with rusty golden lettering, in an ancient tongue that I didn't recognize.
"What is this?"
She grinned, "It's a book of our ancestors. The Seers."
She waved her wand over the front of the tome, and it flipped open, the pages making a whooshing sound as they flickered by, until it stopped, almost half way through the hardback. She ducked her head, and said, "Read."
Frowning at her, I glanced down at the open page and found the letters begin to levitate off of the page. They whizzed around the aged pieces of paper until they morphed to form readable English, and I smiled at another formidable display of intelligent, complicated magic.
Picking the book up, I felt the underlying magic that had been fused within each fiber of the pages, each dot of ink that was spread across them shone and glowed with ties to the supernatural, and I grinned, to myself, at the sensation.
The Types of Seer.
Written in 1863 by Finnegan Wilt-Gilbert.
To be able to read this volume, you must be of Seer bloodline; be it of the founding four families, or a subjugation of them. We, as Seers, are saddled with the grueling trial of living with an ability that renders us capable of seeing further than others, thus making us 'different' and therefore labeling us insane.
We are none of those things.
We are a subjugation of people that should stand tall, and be proud of who we are, and what we stand for.
The Peverell family.
This lineage had been blessed with the intriguing ability of sight beyond sight. They can glance into the future and view the things that others are unable to see. The magic behind their ability is that their visions are not always certain, but they are always a strong possibility. Their visions change to suit the decisions of those around them. Unfortunately, the Peverell family line were especially susceptible to Legilimency due to the thin fabric of magic shielding them from their visions.
Those blessed with this ability will suffer a short lifespan, as the consistent glances into the future drain their magical energy, and in turn deplete their physical one. The effects of the visions can be hard on the body and the mind. To deteriorate one's magic is to deteriorate one's mental and physical health, and therefore it should not be taken lightly.
Initially, the visions will be traumatic, at best, but once the Seer undergoes intense emotional and physical training, they are able to control how badly the visions effect them, and in turn, they grow to accept them.
The Peverell family has been both blessed, and cursed, with this ability. Many of the Seers within this family have become active members of St Mungo's asylum, or are actively using dark magic of personal gain.
It is not unlike the Peverell family to use and abuse their gifts within their ranks, and thus, I predict that they will, eventually become sullied with evil.
The McGee family
The Scotsman lineage known as McGee have been known to be fearless in the face of danger, brave and strong as the brass that lines their hearts. As the Scots were close to nature, and lived in and around the brush, they met many different types of beasts, and made it their life's mission to keep creatures and semi-creatures - both of the Light and of the Dark - alike safe and healthy.
This is why this family had been blessed with the sensitivity to the different forms of beast kind. Regardless of the heritage, they were give the Sight into a being's true nature, and were able to see them for what they truly were.
As the McGee's were usually kind-hearted and welcoming people, they tend to react positively to those of different biological classification, however throughout the ages, this has not always been the case, such proven with Fionnghal Alexander McGee.
Fionnghal was a young man, blessed with the gift of communication with the animals in and around his village, in the early 1560s. He squandered this blessing for personal gain, and as witchcraft was not practiced actively in his province, he was burnt at the stake, by his village, in fear of what he could become. He still haunts the families of the people who caused his death, to this very day.
The Gilbert Family
The Gilbert's are known to be both intelligent and fiercely protective of their own. This is why they had been blessed with a hypersensitivity to possible dangers that could affect their kin. This made them fierce duellers, and even better potion masters, as their keen intuition allowed them to use their instincts, and trump others in their specified fields.
As the proud Britons they are, the Gilbert family characterized their dynasty with dignity and an unparalleled sense of honor. Eventually, though, their pride morphed into a self-satisfied sense of arrogance and superiority, which ultimately ended up in their demise. Jealousy is a powerful thing, and our abilities attract such intense emotions like fruit-flies to a decaying slice of peach.
Be proud, but not obnoxious with your gift as it will ultimately result in your death.
As a distant relative of the Gilbert line, I know the repercussions of vicious envy first hand, and I was left without the ability to walk, for the last four decades of my life.
The Sol Family
This family is.. Different, to say the least. They are unlike any other Seers that I had met in my hundred and thirty years of living. The ability always skips three generations, so to be gifted with such a fascinating ability is a reward in itself.
The Sol's are well-known for their compassion, as well as the justice and equality within their ranks. The family name itself dates back to the early 1300s, before even I had been conceived, meaning they are not only powerful, but they are of a formidable ancestry.
I met a Sol, only once, and he wasn't a Seer. He was a butcher, working in a local village, who only sold the finest meats to the poorest of villagers. His name, if I recall correctly, was Thos Sol. He was a proud, benevolent man, who made a living feeding others before himself.
As a family line, their intelligence and battle strategy are unparalleled, and their magic is almost otherworldly. Wandless, wordless magic comes easy to them, as knowledge seems to absorb into their minds; only having to see or read something once to remember it with perfect precision years later.
They had been blessed with the ability for physical empathy and an acute sensitivity to the magical properties that course through another witch or a wizards veins, feeling it flow through their very own. They feed off of residual magical energy, being able to go weeks without actual sustenance, and are able to ascertain a person's emotional standing without even so much as speaking to them. They find this through their olfactory senses by hearing light tinkling sounds or visually via soft, pastel colors radiating from a person's core.
The Sol line had been predicted to flourish for thousands of years to come, as they are equal parts enigmatic as they are sociable and radiate kindness.
Closing the book, I found that I had barely scratched the surface of the first page and a half of the heavy book in my hands. I glanced up at Professor McGee, who simply smirked in my direction before stating, "If what you've told me is true, then you're a Sol, and you haven't told anyone."
I blanched, immediately, and she said, "Exactly.. So my only question is, who are you?"
I didn't even know how to answer that question. My eyes flitted over to Draco's coiled, taut form and I noticed that he was still frowning, deeply, in his chair, his chin perched between his thumb and index finger, a deep crook in between his brows. "My real name is Amarie. Amarie Totum."
Her eyes widened, dramatically, like in one of those old-school slapstick Hollywood movies, and she exclaimed, "Totum? As in the Totum line?"
Nodding, while licking my lips out of nerves, I continued, "I'm the last one.. My mom, Adriana was a Sol. My dad was Marco, a Totum, and they had me.. I don't really know what happened to them, or how I ended up being where I did, but I'm glad. My parents were pretty sweet."
"But how come you've come so late in the year? Surely I would have remembered you."
Breathing out a small grin, I replied, "You don't remember me because I didn't start with everyone else. I turned seventeen and came into my inheritance, and along with it came magic. I didn't know about.. All of this," I gestured wildly with my hands, "Until I met Blaise and Draco's parents. Its pretty pathetic, right?"
She chuckled into her hand, daintily, and asked, "So you had no magical ability or knowledge of the magic in general before your seventeenth birthday?"
I shrugged, and answered, "None whatsoever."
"Sweet Merlin," she reclined in her chair, her fingers rubbing her chin, appearing to be in deep thought, "That is spectacular."
Wasn't that the truth.