XXVI: The Unknowing Seer

Chapter XXVI: The Unknowing Seer

Next Saturday evening, shortly after dinner, Grindling Gibbons stepped out of the fireplace in Albus Dumbledore's office. He was wearing light blue robes and was sporting a very nice tan after his break in Greece. Certainly, he looked healthier and more relaxed than he had done in weeks. But looks are often deceiving, and Grindling couldn't justly claim that he was feeling relaxed. He was a bit nervous, to be honest, and immensely curious. He could not for the life of him guess why the Headmaster of Hogwarts had asked to see him. In fact, when he had received the invitation five days ago, he had been convinced that the owl had got lost and delivered the letter to the wrong person. But the letter had been clearly addressed to him, and Dumbledore had ever so kindly asked the Keeper of the Hall of Prophecies to contact him upon his return to England. And so, Grindling had sent an owl to Hogwarts first thing when he had returned to his flat, and Dumbledore had asked him to present himself at Hogwarts at seven-thirty the same night.

And there Grindling was now, looking around the rounded office. He had been a good boy in school and had only been called to the Headmaster's office on a handful of occasions. Yet still, he remembered the curious objects and artefacts that cluttered the room, and his Ravenclaw heart leaped at the sight of all the heavy books on the shelves.

On seeing his former pupil exit the flames, Dumbledore got up from his chair at once in order to greet the fair wizard.

'Grindling! You're looking well. Please, take a seat.' He shook hands with his former pupil briefly before Grindling took the proffered chair.

'Thank you for coming this evening.'

'I must admit I was surprised by your message, Headmaster,' Grindling confessed.

'It did come rather out of the blue,' Dumbledore agreed genially. 'I hope it didn't interrupt your holiday.'

Grindling flushed slightly at this. 'No. No, it didn't. It was time for me to return.'

In fact, Dumbledore's owl had arrived at a very good moment, Grindling had to admit. He had been sitting on the top steps of the ancient theatre in Delphi, overlooking the remains of a world long gone in the valley below. His only company had been a bottle of wine and thoughts about never returning to England at all. He had seriously played with the idea of cutting all his ties with the country where he had been born and starting over in Greece. But Dumbledore's letter had reminded him that he could not just walk away from the life he had led so far. Sooner or later, it would catch up with him, just as Dumbledore's owl had caught up with him.

'Can I offer you something to drink?' Dumbledore offered. 'Tea? Wine? Maybe something a little stronger?'

'Tea would do just nicely, Headmaster,' Grindling replied. 'After three weeks in Greece, I have wine running out of my ears.'

Dumbledore chuckled at this. 'Of course.'

With a brief flick of his wand, the old man conjured some tea for them both.

'Now, I won't take up too much of your precious time, Grindling. I contacted you as I need some advice. I am in the unusual situation of having overheard what seems to be a prophecy. I was wondering if you would be able to assist me in decoding what it means.'

Grindling's handsome forehead creased with intrigue. 'A prophecy? Has it been recorded?'

'It has,' Dumbledore confirmed and passed over a yellowing piece of parchment. 'I've got it right here.'

As Grindling read, Dumbledore watched the blond wizard closely. He didn't seem to recognise his own words, which assured Dumbledore that the prophecy was genuine. Not that he'd had any doubts about that.

'There's a lot of information there, Headmaster,' Grindling pointed out after he'd read the prophecy a couple of times.

The older wizard nodded in agreement. 'Are there any parts that stand out to you at all?'

The Keeper sighed.

'Well, the animals are a good starting point. For instance, the lion can mean a series of things. It could point to a person born under the sign of Leo. It could be someone who carries the name of a lion, like Leonard or Richard. It could be a very brave person...'

He broke off and looked at Dumbledore seriously.

'It could be a Gryffindor.'

Dumbledore nodded again, steepling his fingers in a characteristic gesture.

'Yes, I too was wondering whether the symbolism was linked to Hogwarts. It doesn't seem a coincidence that the lion, the snake and the raven are all mentioned.'

Grindling thought for a moment. 'Do you think there is a badger hidden somewhere?' he jested.

'Well, there is the reference to a fourth creature. But I couldn't see any clear reference to Hufflepuff myself.'

Once more, Grindling read the prophecy, trying to see if he – or Dumbledore for that matter – had overlooked something.

'The person who made the prophecy...,' he began after a moment. 'I don't mean you have to tell me who it was, but the Seer's attitude towards things always reflects in the phrasing. For example, a woman could refer to another woman as a sister, while a man would probably not call her that. I need to know more about the Seer, in order to give a better interpretation.'

Dumbledore took a deep breath and fixed the younger wizard with his piercing blue eyes.

'Well, this is the thing, Grindling. I don't mean to startle you, but the person who made this prophecy was in fact... you.'

Grindling nearly choked on his tea. 'Excuse me?'

'I believe you recently gifted your colleague, Charis Byrne, with a Draumar. Charis and I were conversing a couple of days ago when she accidentally activated the Draumar. Which means...'

'Which means Charis is part of the prophecy,' Grindling finished, staring at the paper, his complexion suddenly pale.

'Quite so.'

Had Grindling been standing, he would have needed to sit down, as his knees had suddenly become weak. He wasn't sure how many more surprises he would be able to handle. First, Dumbledore told him he'd made a prophecy, and then he learned that Charis was part of said divination. Charis, whom he had hurt so deeply and whom he had not been able to banish from his mind for as much as a second over the last three weeks. Charis, whom he still didn't know how to address on Monday morning at work.

He cleared his throat. 'I think I'd like to get back to your offer for something stronger now,' he said and put his cup down onto Dumbledore's desk.

'Of course, dear boy. That's quite understandable.'

Dumbledore vanished the tea cups, and with another wave of his wand, a bottle of Ogden's and a little tumbler appeared, which Grindling accepted thankfully. For quite some time, however, he did nothing more than hold on to his glass and continue staring at the parchment in front of him.

'Forgive me for asking,' Dumbledore broke the silence at last, 'but have you made other prophecies? I understand there is Seer blood in the family.'

'I didn't even know that I made this one!' Grindling exclaimed, and Dumbledore could see in the fair wizard's face that he was trying very hard to remember when he had made it.

'Do not fret, Grindling,' he said consolingly. 'The fact that you cannot remember making the prophecy proves to me that it is real.'

These words, however, did not seem to soothe the Keeper's nerves in the slightest, and as he lifted the tumbler to his mouth, his hand was shaking so violently that he judged it wiser to not have any Firewhisky at all.

'Do you consider Charis to be the raven?' he asked in the end, desperately trying to make sense of something at least.

Dumbledore nodded.

'"Hatched on the lowest branch of the ancient tree"?' Grindling pressed on. 'What tree?'

'Ah, well, that is for Charis to tell you, I'm afraid,' Dumbledore replied somewhat mysteriously.

Grindling's shoulders slumped.

'This might prove to be problematic,' he said very quietly.

The Headmaster looked puzzled. From what he had gathered, Charis thought very highly of her boss and they seemed to work rather well together.

'We, um... Charis and I...'

Grindling ran a hand through his ponytail in agitation, wishing he hadn't said anything. What had happened between him and Charis was none of Dumbledore's business. And he was a professional, for Merlin's sake. Surely, he should be able to put his personal feelings aside and handle this prophecy like any other.

He closed eyes for a moment in order to compose himself and then straightened in his seat.

'Do you consider this prophecy of importance to anyone apart from Charis and me, Headmaster?' he asked.

Dumbledore looked over his glasses and gave Grindling a penetrating stare.

'I believe this prophecy is of utmost importance, Grindling. Not only because it involves Charis but because it appears to refer to yet another pupil, former or otherwise, of Hogwarts. And, in the current climate, the reference to the Dark cannot be ignored.'

Grindling nodded slowly.

'In that case, I assume you'd like to be present when Charis and I decipher the message. Maybe you should ask her to come here?'

'I think that is a good idea. Will you excuse me a moment?'

As the Headmaster headed for the door, Grindling stared after him, and for a moment, he feared that Charis would already be standing outside, just waiting for Dumbledore to ask her to enter. But thankfully, the older wizard exited and closed the door behind him.

Grindling buried his face in his hands. This was not how he had imagined his reunion with Charis. Frankly, he had so far been unable to make up his mind on how to approach her. 'Hi, I'm back,' seemed like a very lousy line after three weeks, and 'Good morning, Miss Byrne. How are you?' seemed far too formal. At one point, Grindling had even considered showing up at Charis' doorstep with a bouquet of flowers and asking her if she had missed him. But for that, he lacked the courage. And now it seemed as if fate had decided for him.

Once more, Grindling reached out his hand for the prophecy, trying hard to remember when he had made it. The Draumar had been in his possession for a bit over ten years now, and he could have made the prophecy at any time during this period. It seemed odd, however, to think that he would have made a prophecy about Charis before he had even known that she existed.

And only the Raven

That was hatched on the lowest branch of the ancient tree

Possesses the means to ask the questions

That will bring the answers to conquer the Dark.

Grindling shuddered. Dumbledore had said that the reference to the Dark could not be ignored. Surely the reference couldn't mean You-Know-Who... Could it?

* * *

'I am so sorry for this, Albus,' Charis apologised for the second time. She had meant to be ready when Dumbledore knocked at her door, but the book she had been reading had been so fascinating that she had lost track of the time.

'There is no need to worry, dear Charis,' Dumbledore assured her yet again while he continued his tour of the lounge, Lily following closely at his heels. It seemed as if the little cat had taken a shine to the old man.

'Can I get you anything while you wait? A cup of tea, maybe?' Charis offered.

'I just had a cup, thank you,' the older wizard declined. 'Don't worry about me. I will find something to occupy myself with while you make yourself pretty. Not that you need it.'

Charis blushed and disappeared into the bathroom once more, where she examined her reflection in the mirror somewhat desperately. Dumbledore needs to have the prescription for his glasses checked, she thought because in her opinion, she very much needed to make herself pretty. After three weeks, she didn't want to meet Grindling with pale cheeks and puffy eyes. And that zit on her nose! Charis sighed. She really should have applied that facial mask she had bought at Madam Primpernelle's the other day. But, alas, she didn't have time for that now.

'Breathtaking!' Dumbledore commented as Charis re-emerged from the bathroom ten minutes later. 'That blue eyeliner certainly brings out your eyes.'

For a moment, Charis was slightly taken aback. She had not expected Dumbledore to comment on her make-up, but her surprise and slight embarrassment wore off when she saw Dumbledore admiring the little silver mirror on the coffee table.

'Morgana has one, too,' she explained. 'We use it to communicate with each other. It's much smoother that using the Floo, I think.'

'A little mirror is certainly easier to carry around than the fireplace,' Dumbledore commented with a smile and handed the mirror to Charis, who quickly stowed it in her bag.

They Disapparated directly from Charis' flat and landed at the boundary of the Hogwarts grounds. They could have used the Floo, of course, but Charis was glad that they hadn't. She didn't want to be covered in ashes when she met Grindling again. Also, she was glad for the short walk through the grounds because her heart was racing in her chest like a herd of Hippogriffs and she hoped that the cold evening air would calm her nerves.

How would it be to see Grindling again, she wondered for the umpteenth time that day. What should she say? What would he say? Was it even prudent to say anything else than, 'How do you do?' with Dumbledore in the same room?

Charis looked at the Headmaster of Hogwarts, who was walking a few steps ahead of her. When he had contacted her earlier that day and asked her if she could join him and Grindling that evening in order to decipher the prophecy, she had immediately agreed. She had thought that it might be good to have Dumbledore there as a kind of chaperon when she and Grindling met for the first time. But now she very much wished that she could speak to Grindling in private. She really wanted to tell him that she had missed him.

The walk through the Hogwarts grounds was far too short, and so was the climb up the stairs to the Headmaster's office, and when Charis caught sight of Grindling, her heart was still racing. But then again, if it had been beating slowly, it would certainly have picked up its pace anyway. For Grindling looked to-die-for.

'How was your holiday?' Charis asked nervously after Dumbledore had offered her a seat.

'Relaxing. Thank you,' Grindling answered somewhat stiffly, and Charis couldn't help but think that he didn't look very relaxed now. But she couldn't blame him. Her hands were quite sweaty as well, and she was at a loss about what to say. Thankfully, Dumbledore was there to break the tension and remind both her and Grindling about why they were all there anyway.

'Charis, Grindling has read the prophecy, and he has some questions about your family tree. I thought it prudent for you to tell him,' he said, looking seriously over the rim of his glasses at the blonde witch.

Charis bit her lip. So far, being a Black had brought her nothing but trouble, and she didn't know how Grindling would take this news at all.

'The prophecy appears to be about me,' she started slowly, 'because it seems to be about a Ravenclaw who is related to the House of Black.'

'The House of Black? You?' Grindling retorted in disbelief. 'I thought you were Muggle-born.'

'Yes, I am. But my great-grandfather was Marius Black. He was blasted from the family tree when he married a Muggle.'

'Oh.'

Grindling's heart skipped a beat, and he swallowed drily. There was a slightly uncomfortable pause as he reflected on unknowingly getting himself involved with yet another Black woman. Especially now, when he was trying so hard get over the first one.

Grindling's silence caused Charis to lower her gaze and stare at the tip of her shoes. The Blacks were notorious supporters of You-Know-Who, after all, and weren't known to have the sweetest of dispositions in general. Hopefully, Grindling wouldn't think less of her now.

Mostly in order to occupy himself, Grindling picked up the prophecy.

'If "the ancient tree" refers to the Blacks, then the lion must refer to a member of that family. I'd say that rules out the possibility of "lion" referring to Gryffindor House. The Blacks were all in Slytherin, weren't they?' he asked after a moment. 'Present company excluded, of course.'

'Not all, actually,' Dumbledore corrected him. 'Sirius Black was Sorted into Gryffindor. But we're not convinced this prophecy is about Sirius.'

'Then there might have been someone else from the Black family who had also been Sorted into Gryffindor,' Grindling reasoned. 'Hogwarts keeps yearbooks, I assume?'

'Yes, in the library,' Dumbledore confirmed.

'With your permission, Headmaster, may I be allowed to look through these to try to find a link?'

'Why, Grindling, of course, but you are going above and beyond the kind of help I was requiring from you,' the old man replied, barely able to hide his smile. Actually, Grindling offering his help had been exactly what he had hoped for.

'Until we know whom the prophecy relates to, I'm afraid I am not much use at all.' Grindling stated and stood up. 'This might take a while, though. Potentially, we'll have to go back several generations. I will need assistance.'

He looked tentatively at Charis, who glanced up and met his gaze. Grey eyes locked onto green ones, and they both missed Dumbledore's triumphant smile.

'I'll help,' Charis whispered.

'Splendid,' Dumbledore exclaimed, stroking his beard benevolently. 'Do let me know if you find something of interest.'

Some minutes later, Charis was leading Grindling through the old, hallowed corridors of Hogwarts. As it was a rather blustery Saturday evening, the majority of pupils were in their own common rooms, gossiping with friends or playing games. Thus, the two Ravenclaws met no one on their way and slipped into the library undetected.

'I'd almost forgotten how amazing this place is,' Grindling whispered in a hushed tone as he craned his neck to look up at the criss-cross of buttresses on the ceiling. The library was an impressive sight to those who'd never seen it before. Books upon books were stacked from floor to ceiling, with nooks here and there which were perfect to study in. The arched windows were reminiscent of a church, and it had a calm, respectful air.

'Mind you, it's been a while since I've been here,' Grindling added. 'I'm getting old.'

'No, you're not!' Charis retorted. 'Now you're all tanned and relaxed, you look about twenty-five!'

Grindling snorted. 'Too kind, dear lady. Too kind.'

They looked at each other for some moments, both at a loss about what to say once more. There was so much they both wanted to say, but neither of them knew where to start.

'The yearbooks are over there,' Charis finally broke the silence. 'Opposite the Restricted Section.'

'We better go there, then,' Grindling stated quite unnecessarily, his eyes still locked on Charis'. He could have looked at her for hours. Days even. Or a lifetime. And when she turned to lead the way, he still was unable to take his eyes off her.

Charis selected a couple of yearbooks at random and handed them to Grindling.

'What is it?' she asked, as she realised the he was looking intensely at her.

'If your great-grandfather was blasted off the family tree, how do you know you're a Black?'

'I looked up birth certificates and wedding certificates,' Charis replied. 'A friend of mine and I had this project, you see. He was quite convinced that I come from a magical line. It took some effort, but that's how I found out.'

'You wouldn't have found those certificates here, would you?' Grindling wondered. 'I mean, if you're a Black, there might have been other Hogwarts students from the House of Black with different last names,' he suggested.

'Oh! That's a good idea,' Charis agreed. 'But... if we start looking up family history, we'll be here all night.'

'I don't mind,' Grindling whispered, taking the books from Charis and then brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

Charis blushed. 'I've missed you,' she admitted quietly.

Grindling took a deep breath before replying.

'I've missed you, too.'

His fingertips lingered for a moment on Charis' cheek, and as he withdrew his hand, Charis thought that her cheek felt rather cold.

'I... I didn't expect to meet you before Monday,' Grindling said. 'I... I have a present for you.'

'No, Grindling, you shouldn't have!' Charis protested. 'You've already spoiled me.'

'There have been many "shouldn't haves" in my life, Charis. Spoiling you isn't one of them.'

They gazed at each other and smiled, a tender feeling swelling in each of their hearts, when all of a sudden a rustling sound could be heard behind them. And then, from absolutely nowhere, the imposing figure of Severus Snape swooped around the corner, his lip curled with distaste.

'My, my, Miss Byrne. Loitering around the library after nightfall again, are we?' he asked smoothly, his black eyes glinting in the candlelight. 'One would think you had filled your quota when you were a student here.'

'Professor Snape!' Charis' heart skipped a beat. Of all the people to bang into, and here!

Grindling, however, didn't know Snape too well. He'd met him a couple of times together with Lucius when they all had been students, and Snape hadn't made much of an impression back then. He'd just been there, in Lucius' shadow. Nowadays, however, Snape had the reputation of being quite strict, a reputation which was known beyond the walls of Hogwarts. Also, he struck Grindling as a man who didn't take kindly to rule-breaking of any kind. Thus, Grindling thought it wise to explain what he and Charis were doing in the library.

'Ah, Professor Snape. You might remember me from school? Grindling Gibbons, Keeper of the Hall of Prophecies.' He went to hold out his hand for the dark wizard to shake but decided against it at the last moment as Snape was fixing him with a look that was less than welcoming. 'Charis and I are just doing a little research. The Headmaster has given us permission.'

For the duration of a second, Snape looked down his nose at Grindling with a look that suggested that Grindling wasn't worth his time. Then he directed his black eyes towards Charis again.

'Didn't we have a chat about bringing boys here to play, Miss Byrne?'

His drawl was so low that Grindling couldn't really hear what he was saying. Charis, meanwhile, heard every single word and flushed at the implication. Only a few feet from where they were standing now, Snape had made her moan and quiver. In fact, she could see down that very aisle without even having to turn her head. If it weren't that dark in the Restricted Section, she could probably see the desk he had bent her over.

'Is there a problem, Professor?' Grindling asked, utterly confused at the strangeness of the situation.

Reluctantly, Snape shifted his gaze to Grindling and glared at him.

'No, no problem at all, Mr Gibbons,' he replied silkily. 'Just make sure that Miss Byrne keeps her voice down and doesn't wrinkle any book pages. Madam Pince does not appreciate that.'

And with that, he gave Charis a meaningful, knowing look and billowed out.

'What was that all about?' Grindling still looked rather bemused while Charis was rather pale.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. 'Professor Snape... let's just say he's not the easiest person to get along with.'

Grindling feigned overenthusiastic surprise. 'Really? He seemed ever so charming!'

Charis couldn't help but giggle at this. But now that she had seen Snape here, she did not want to stay in the library for a second longer. Their brief meeting had brought back too many memories, memories she didn't want to be reminded of. Not now. Not when she was with Grindling.

'Look, I really think we'll be looking for a needle in a haystack if we just start blindly looking for names,' she opined. 'I like your suggestion of searching for other members of the family who have been blasted off and looking at those to see if there are leads there. Why don't I find those out first, and then we can research from there?' she suggested. 'I know where to look.'

'Good idea,' Grindling agreed. 'Then we will cross check those names against any kind of reference towards a lion: Gryffindors, Leos, you name it.'

'Great!'

Once more, their eyes met, and a feeling of mutual understanding passed between them.

'It is a pleasure working alongside with you again, Miss Byrne,' Grindling said softly, his grey eyes glittering.

Charis smiled. 'You too, Mr Gibbons.'