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*This is the last chapter I will put up before I go on my mission trip. So please be kind and review while I'm gone. Thank you! PS I know the dates in here don't match up with the actual HP dates set up by JKR, so please just go with it.*


“Grandma? Grandma, are you sleeping?” Avi D’avia who had just turned fourteen quietly crept into her grandmother’s tent. The great Sandrine D’avia, leader of her clan of Clairvoyant, had not exited her tent for several days. It was thought that she was having a string of visions. Avi knew her grandmother did not like to be interrupted, but Avi had a startling dream the previous night and looked to her grandmother’s guidance. Avi reached for a candle, and lit it magically making the tent’s dimness fall away. She could see her grandmother lying on her bed roll in the tent’s far corner. Quietly walking over Avi tried to take deep breaths but a feeling of cold had settled on her chest.

“Grandma?” She called softly, her voice quivering. She set down the candle on her Grandmother’s wooden trunk and reached for her hand. Sandrine’s fingers were cold to the touch, and Avi instantly recoiled as she shuddered greatly.

The room was dark and cavernous. Floating candles lit the center of room, but the corners remained in shadow. In the center of the room was a fading pentacle, the lines were broken and in places looked at though they had been swept away. Scorch marks adorned all but one corner. At the uppermost corner sat a girl, her head was in her hands and she sat rocking back and forth. Avi could not make out her words, only the occasional sob that racked her broken and bruised body. Avi crept forward and gently placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder. Her head jerked up, and Avi was met with a frightened stare from the girl’s intense green eyes.

“Who’s there? Where are you?” Her voice shook, and Avi realized that she was not even looking at her.

“Who are you?” Avi whispered softly.

“It doesn’t matter anymore. I failed. They’re gone, all gone.”

“Who’s gone?” Avi gently placed her hands on the girl’s face and turned her so she knew where Avi was.

“Please help me. I can’t see. I can’t see them. They’re gone, all gone.” The girl dissolved into hysterical sobs again, and Avi gently pulled the girl into a hug. “I tried to use the message. But they all died; twelve red dead. Twelve . . . red . . . dead.”

“What did you say?”

“Twelve red dead. Seer’s eye. Prophecy. All wrong, wrong, wrong.”

“You’re her.” Avi whispered and pulled back from the girl. She stood, and slowly the room began to fade away.

“No, please don’t leave me.”

The girl’s last plea echoed through Avi’s mind as she found herself back in her grandmother’s tent, still clutching her hand. “Grandmother, you found her.” Avi whispered as she picked up her Grandmother’s old wooden box from the floor, the one with her initials on it, S.D. She gently opened the box and pulled out the aging papers. Her grandmother’s diary stretched back many years, but these pages were all about the girl. The girl that Sandrine had found, and Avi now had a vision of.

March, 21 1943

I have had a dream of the young woman again. It is always the same. She is huddled on the floor, and begs for my help. She seems sightless, and knows not who I am. She talks about them being gone. It is always the same. The vision ends before I may ask her who she is. I do not know when this will happen; the room she sits in holds no clue. It is not much more than a cave, with candles. She wears long black robes that hold no familiarity with me.

The vision has shown me something new this time, or perhaps it is just that I have not noticed it before. The girl sits on one point of the pentacle. The pentacle is broken and burnt. She sits on the point that it is held only by the true spirit. I fear that is why she sits there. Only those who are true and pure may cast spells from that point. Those that are not will destroy those who stand on the other points, corrupting the elements they stand for. I only hope I may find her before it is too late.

November 13, 1989*

I have not had the dream of the young woman in many years, and suddenly it comes to me again. We had a visitor at our fire last night, a weary woman from another clan of clairvoyant. She was far along with child, but declined to stay with us until her child was born. She would not give us her name, telling us to call her Verrader**. When I helped her to a tent we had prepared, I received the vision. I saw the girl again, the same as I had before. Now I believe that I have found the girl, she is the unborn child of the woman called Verrader. She left us early this morning and I was not able to ask her. If I am right about the heritage of this child, then she is of the Clairvoyant and I will be able to find her when she begins to have visions.

December 22, 1991

I have found the true name of the woman called Verrader that visited our fire two years past. A vision showed me who she was. I use was, for now the woman is dead. Her name was Christine Faye, and I am acquainted with some from the clan they are a part of. The vision showed me nothing of her daughter; I still do not know the girl’s name. The Faye’s are rumored to be very powerful, and her mother served the dark lord. I wonderful how I am to help this girl. Is it I that must save her from becoming what her mother was?

August 31, 1995

The girl will be nearly five now, and should have seen her first vision by now, but I am not able to locate her. The Clairvoyant are connected by visions, one vision will always lead one to another Clairvoyant.

June 5, 1997

I have finally contacted the one I have been seeking for so long. My dear granddaughter Avi led her to me this afternoon. She looked as she looked in my vision, she will not know me for many years. When she had this vision of me, it will take her to the past, to me, now. Avi told me after that I made a prophecy. This is rare for those who are Clairvoyant, this girl must be very important. I fear that I will run out of time to help her. Again I have had the dream, and still she asks for my help, crying and pleading and I know not what to do.

Avi sighed and placed the sheaves of paper back inside the box. Closing the box she placed it on the bed beside her grandmother and rose to go tell the clan, of her unfortunate passing. As she was about to snuff out the candle something caught her eye. There in her grandmother’s left hand was a piece of paper, one that would match those in the box. Avi gently pulled it from her grandmother’s hand and saw that it had been dated two days ago. Sitting back down she began to read.

I know that my time here grows short. I can feel the physical world begin to fade away as slowly the light dims. I cannot get her face out of my mind. In my heart I feel I have failed her. When I close my eyes I can see her pleading with me to help, but now I cannot. I have sent her message, one that is encoded and hopefully will make her realize that she can trust me and my clan. I sent it to her in a box owned by her mother, may she see that I was not a foe to her. I have seen more to what happened before I found the girl in the cavern. I saw one young man that tried to save her. His resemblance to his father is rather uncanny. I only hope his spirit is different. I have sent him a message also. To warn him that she will try to use the power of the true spirit. I only hope that he will listen and stop her before it is too late. The quill now goes heavy in my hand. I have not enough strength to put this into my box. I do not wish to pass this burden on, but I fear I must. This obsession has taken me this far, I do not wish the girl to end as I have seen it. My dear Avi must . . .

“Must what? Grandmother what must I do?” Avi cried shoving the piece of paper into the box. “This girl has brought you to your grave; do you wish me to save her? Save the one that seems unsaveable? Grandmother. . .” Avi trailed off, letting herself succumb to her grief. Her grandmother was all she had, and now she was gone, leaving Avi to continue on what seemed like an impossible task.

*November 13, 1989 is Taryn's birthday
**Verrader is dutch for traitor

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