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Taryn lifted her head groggily, her vision seemed somewhat fuzzy so she closed her eyes and rubbed them, hoping when they opened she would be able to see. The sun that streamed in through the windows greatly surprised her, for when she had arrived in the room of Requirement the sun had barely begun to rise. Jumping out of her chair, the book on pentacles fell to the floor as Taryn hurriedly searched for a clock. When she found it and noted that it was well past ten, she flew out of the room and down the seven flights of stairs to the dungeons. Snape is not going to be happy with me. As she hurtled down the hallways she it registered that she did not have any of her supplies, but she didn’t dare waste more time by stopping in the dormitories.

“Nice of you to join us, Ms. Faye.” Snape drawled as Taryn banged into the room, heaving as she tried to catch her breath. “Is there any explanation as to why you were late?”

“I . . . over . . . slept.” She panted while trying to breathe normally.

“Well then you will not object to my taking away a point for every minute you were late, will you?”

“I’m in your house! You’ll lose the House Championship! So go ahead take away the bloody points! I don’t bloody care!” Taryn yelled, her patience having evaporated sometime around Christmas. Snape’s face grew red and seemed to swell as he held in what he desperately wanted to scream, just as he was about to explode a small voice was heard from the doorway.

“Umm Professor?” Squeaked a very small boy with a tiny pointed nose. “Professor Dumbledore would like to see Taryn Faye in his office, and asked if she would please bring him a sugar quill.”

“Well Professor, I’d love to stay, but it seems that I have a meeting to attend.” With that Taryn turned on her heel and followed the little boy out of the dungeons.

“What do you reckon that was about?” Ron whispered as Taryn exited the potions classroom.

“Honestly Ron, don’t you pick up on anything?” Hermione whispered back as she carefully pored a dark green substance into her cauldron.

“What do you mean? Do you know why Dumbledore wants to see her?”

“Yes. Didn’t you see the Daily Prophet this morning?”

“Yeah, two more people are dead. So what?”

“So they died the same way as Anna Kant did. Eyes removed and all.”

“I don’t see what you’re getting at, Hermione. What does that have to do with Taryn?”

“All three of them had the same tattoo.” Harry worked out, glancing up from his notes. “The same symbol that was on Taryn’s sweater; the one that your mum made Ron. And she’s been wearing turtle necks since that article came out.”

“Exactly. She has the same tattoo; she just doesn’t want anyone to see it. All of those women were just like Taryn, they were Clairvoyant.” Hermione concluded looking very pleased with herself. “And that’s why Dumbledore wants to see her. She doesn’t even know that the other two are dead yet.”

“Because she overslept this morning.” Ron smiled, glad that he had something right.

“I don’t know about that. I think she was somewhere else.” Hermione said, not noticing Ron’s triumphant look disappear.

* * * * * *

“Sugar Quills.” Taryn said clearly to the stone gargoyle that stood in front of the Headmaster’s office. It instantly jumped aside, and Taryn casually made her way up the stairs that it revealed. Upon reaching the door, Taryn knocked and a slightly muffled voice called, “Enter!”

Dumbledore sat behind his desk, his old hands folded neatly in front of him, underneath which lay a copy of The Daily Prophet. He smiled gently at Taryn as she entered and motioned to the chair in front of him as he swept it out with a wave of his wand, allowing her to sit down. Taryn sat down obediently, and raised a quizzical eyebrow. “You wanted to see me Professor?”

“I believe you saw the report on the death of Anna Kant?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I am sorry to say, but there have been two more deaths.” Dumbledore gently slid the newspaper across his desk to her, and she took it in trembling hands. “It reads that two girls, the age of thirteen, were killed in the same way that Anna Kant was. They were twins that lived not far from where we are now.” Dumbledore paused, waiting for her to let it sink in.

“They won’t be the last. Nine more people have been prophesized to die.” Taryn said quietly, her hands clasped tightly so they would not shake. Dumbledore did not look surprised.

“Do you have thoughts as to why these women had been murdered?” Dumbledore asked the question as if he already knew the answer.

“It’s so he can see what their last vision was.”


“Voldemort. Who else? He must be looking for something. I don’t know what though. All of these women must have something in common, for him to think that they’ll have related visions. But what though? It makes no sense.”

“Did you perhaps think that the connection was him?” Taryn frowned at Dumbledore, turning the idea over in her head.

“He’s trying to see his own future by killing people while their having a vision of him. Or at least what he hopes is a vision of him. He kills them, and takes their eyes so he can see the vision imprinted there.”

“And the knife?”

“Using a spell to remove the eyes conflicts with a Clairvoyant’s magic. Since the eyes are what makes us Clairvoyant he runs the risk of destroying the vision. I don’t know what he uses to see the vision though.” Taryn sank back down into her chair, no longer disturbed at the deaths, but frustrated that she could not figure them out.

“Put yourself in the mindset of Lord Voldemort. As him, what would you do?”

“He knows all about the Clairvoyant from my mother, he’s not ignorant. So he would know that a vision can be seen again much like a memory. Memories can be extracted with spells and put into penisives. Oh my god.” Taryn gasped in shock as it dawned on her. “He’s putting their eyes into a penisive.”

* * * * * *

Hans apparated well outside of his daughter’s village. It was protected so that none could apparate into it, much like Hogwarts castle. He slowly and deliberately scaled the rocky path that led down in The Valley of Vert. Named vert, the French word for green, for the valley’s lush green hue. Avi was waiting at the bottom of the path, her long fringed skirt blowing in the wind, as she clutched a small package to her chest.

“Father.” She said in greeting as he approached her. She had forgotten how tall he was.

“Avi.” He replied in the same manner, though his heart was nearly breaking inside to see how his only daughter had grown.

“There is somewhere we need to go before you take me to Taryn.” Avi announced, careful to look anywhere but her father’s eyes.

“And where would that be?”

“We are going to see Taryn’s aunt, Carol.”

“Will this help you?”

“Yes, I have had a vision and Carol Faye will prove useful to what I must do.” Without another word or a backward glance Avi set off up the path her father had just come down. She had never left the village before, but she would not allow herself to feel weak. Her grandmother was counting on her, as where those she was going to save. Hans watched her climbing up the steep incline, and was immediately reminded of a young woman he knew long ago. Avi, you are more like your mother than you know. She had the same courage. I am proud.

* * * * * *

Carol Faye had just returned from the ministry, it had been a long day and she was looking forward to taking a drink from one the bottles in the pantry. There had been a fiasco after the reported death of the two little girls, but only Carol had known the true natures of their deaths. None of her coworkers knew the Clairvoyant and Carol was happy to keep it that way. Just as she was reaching for her bottle of mead, she heard a familiar crack from her living room. Drawing her wand warily she entered, ready to cast a curse at whoever might be intruding.

“Excuse me, but are you Carol Faye?” Said a petite girl with long dark hair, that looked like she might be a little younger than Taryn.

“I am.”

“My name is Avi D’avia, and this is my father. I come on behalf of my grandmother Sandrine D’avia the late clan chief of the Vert Valley Clairvoyant.” Avi had practiced what she would say when she met Carol Faye, and hoped that it sounded like she wanted it to. Carol lowered her wand.

“I’m sorry for your loss, I knew Sandrine as a child; she was a great woman. To what do I owe her granddaughter?”

“Information about your niece, Taryn.” Avi said, looking into Carol’s surprised eyes.

“What do you want with Taryn? Is she alright?”

“At the moment she is safe, but I need your help to make it so she does not put herself into danger.”

“What do you need?”

“Was Taryn ever part of a clan while she was developing her sight?”

“Please sit.” Carol said noting that her guests were still standing. “No, Taryn was never part of a clan. Her mother was a Death Eater and always had Taryn with her, she wouldn’t allow her to be with any other Clairvoyant, except for me.


“Christine was afraid that they would try to take Taryn from her, she could not believe that there was anyplace better for her child. Then when Christine was killed I took Taryn to New York, I feared they would come after her. What does this have to do with anything?”

“Taryn is going to attempt a spell that she can not cast properly at this moment. The spell requires a True Spirit. I do not know what at the moment, but something is causing her spirit to be unclean, if you will. If her spirit is not cleansed before she casts this spell, then the spell will fail and those involved will die.”

“Her spirit isn’t clean?”

“In this spell she will act as the Goddess, the one True Spirit. If she is not whole in her conviction, if anything might sway her any other way then the spell will backfire.” Avi tried to explain without sounding accusing. Unfortunately Carol saw what Avi meant.

“You think that Taryn might lean to evil because of her mother don’t you?”

“No. I think that your niece is vengeful. Vengeance is what clouds her.”

“What will you do?”

“I will help her. In the same way that I was helped.” Avi did not look at her father as she said these words. He had been the cause of her vengeance, but her grandmother had helped her overcome that. She would help Taryn in the same way. “I believe we are finished here. Thank you for your time Ms. Faye.”

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