The Last Seer
written by Lizzie Scamander
The last of the Trelawney line, Patricia's family have high expectations of her to become a seer like it is tradition in the Trelawney generation. And when it appears to be general knowledge that her family is just a bunch of frauds, Patricia knows it will be hard for her to settle in at Hogwarts. But maybe, just maybe, she will become a true seer.
Last Updated
05/31/21
Chapters
1
Reads
667
When Something Is Expected Of You
Chapter 1
Yes, a lot of things are expected of me. Maybe it's because not many people in my family have lived up to what they wanted to be. And that is? Seers. Can you guess what my surname is? You got it. Trelawney. It seems to be general knowledge that many of my aunts, uncles, and especially my grandmother Sybill are frauds.
I never really longed for my Hogwarts letter to arrive, like all those other magical kids. When that tawny owl came sweeping through the kitchen window and dropped the envelope into my hands, I even sighed bitterly, though I had known it would come one day. What would the students at the school be like? Muggle school was easier, even though I had a lot of trouble with maths.
So yes. I am Patricia Trelawney, named after my grandmother Sybill's middle name, which, as you probably know, makes my relation to her even more evident. Great.
And another thing is, everyone in my family expects me to be a seer like my grandmother. Probably because my mum wasn't one. I hope she doesn't read this, because she always gets angry when you point that out. Oops a daisy.
But I better get on with the story instead of boring you with my family complaints. Let's start.
I peered at my watch for the upteenth time. Ten to eleven. "Are we almost there?" I asked, biting my lip. Maybe I can miss the train and then not have to go, I thought, with an odd sort of hope.
"Nearly dear," my mother said, pushing her large glasses further up her nose and running a hand through her short messy hair. "It's just this car -" she slammed her fist down on the steering wheel impatiently - "Going 20 kilometres an hour - I mean seriously?"
I rolled my eyes as my mum beeped. The car sped up a little bit, until finally it turned into a side street and my mum pressed on the accelerator until we were going much faster - a bit too fast. I sighed. I hope the police don't see us.
We pulled up before the imposing brick front of Kings Cross Station, and I hopped out. Mum bounced out, sprinted around to the back of our modest car and wrenched open the boot. She swept my trunk out with surprising strength and the tall cage that contained Dismal the Diricawl. Weird name, right? You may think that at first, but it actually does suit him, once you know what a Diricawl is. I sketched him once, so you can look below.
Diricawls look like dodos, don't they? You know, those Muggle birds that went extinct. If you think about it, Diricawls are actually quite cute. But I'm getting off the point, aren't I?
I found a trolley, loaded my trunk on, and then poised Dismal's cage on top (but I call him Dizzy for short). Then I followed my mum into the station and found the barrier between platforms nine and ten. With Muggles still looking curiously at Dizzy, I slowly approached the barrier and stood before it. I had always thought about how weird this was. Well, here I was doing it. Taking a deep breath, I strode forwards.
People always said they closed their eyes when they went through the barrier. Well, I kept mine open. What I saw was a hazy blur of brick and Dizzy's little alarmed face looking at me in bewilderment. Then I was standing on Platform 9¾ and my mum was appearing behind me.
"Dearie, dearie me," my mum said. That was what she always said when she was stressed. Dizzy clucked nervously. Mum hastily embraced me in a brief hug and planted a kiss on my head. "I'm sure you'll do well," she said. "Now hurry." She ushered me over to the nearest door and helped me lift my trunk up and Dizzy's cage. "Goodbye, Patty," she said, waving vigorously as a guard slammed the door shut and the train started to move. "Enjoy yourself!"
Oh, yes, most people, including my parents, call me Patty as a nickname instead of tongue-twisting Patricia. I waved lamely back, and then the train had rounded a corner and my mum and the station were out of sight.
Dragging my trunk, I walked slowly and rather miserably down the corridor. Every compartment seemed to be full. Finally, I reached a compartment at the very end of the train with only one person sitting in it. Well, to be honest, there were lots of compartments along with the train with only one person inside, but this certain person seemed the best, probably because they didn't look completely sane. That makes you think of Luna Lovegood, right? Well it makes me think that too. And I don't particularly want to make friends with a Lovegood, but ah well, I'm not completely sane either, am I?
I slid open the compartment door and stood awkwardly twisting my fingers with my trunk propped up beside me. The person, a boy with messy blonde hair, observant hazel eyes, and an absent smile looked up at me. "Hello," he said. "You can sit here if you want. Lysander left to go and meet Lily. Lily Potter. Her middle name is the same as my mother's you know."
"Oh, um - how interesting," I said lamely. "Thanks." I pulled my trunk inside, shoved it in the corner, and made shhing noises to Dizzy who had started a stream of nervous cluckings. The boy peered at him thoughtfully.
"A Diricawl?" He asked.
I nodded. "Yes, but how did you know that? Not many people know what he is."
"My father is Rolf Scamander, and he knows an awful lot about magical creatures," the boy explained. "He taught us as much as he knows about them."
"Your father is a Scamander?" I asked curiously.
"Yes, and my mother a Lovegood," the boy replied. "I'm Lorcan."
Great. So I was engaging with a Lovegood. But this Lorcan didn't seem so bad.
"I'm Patricia," I said. "Patricia Trelawney."
Lorcan didn't seem at all daunted by my surname. He smiled at Dizzy and looked out the window. "Oh look," he said, pointing. "There are sheep and cows."
I raised my eyebrows, though I tried to be unaffected. "Oh yes," I said, feinting interest. "Sheep. And cows."
IN PROGRESS
