Chapter 3: Paranoia

Sybill opened her eyes, blinking in the realization that she'd fallen asleep in her chair. Glancing at the clock, she was shocked to find that it was after midnight. She sat up, stifling a yawn. Her journal was still open on her lap and as Sybill began to close it so she could go to bed, she saw something that made her freeze.

That name – Harry Potter – was glowing. She closed her eyes and opened them again. Still glowing. "Weird." She whispered and waved a hand experimentally over the shining letters. To her surprise, the light didn't illuminate her fingers at all, despite being plenty bright enough. "Maybe it's not really glowing then." Sybill mused aloud. "Maybe it's my Sight, telling me to pay attention to it."

All thoughts of sleep banished from her head, Sybill lit a candle and picked up her quill. 'Who is Harry Potter? Is he important? Why is his name glowing?' She wrote quickly.

Sybill quickly reread what she had written and found that there was another word on the page right after the second question:

Obviously.

Sybill growled. Apparently, her subconscious had a very dry sense of humor. She decided to try again. 'Why? What's important about him? Who is he anyway?' This time there was no answer. With another groan, she angrily slammed the journal shut and threw it onto her desk. It lay there, looking like nothing more than an innocent green book.

Innocent? Sybill wondered. Why had she thought that? Was there some reason her journal shouldn't be innocent? "Whatever," she muttered and yawned again, the tiredness that had fled before suddenly returning. She stood, crossed the room to her bed, and collapsed into it still fully dressed. Despite her exhaustion though, she had trouble falling asleep. The name that had inexplicably appeared in her unconscious journal writing kept floating through her head. An important name. An obviously important name. Important enough to glow at midnight.

She tossed and turned all night, never quite managing to get any real rest. She gave up on sleep eventually and got up at six.

"Mum?" She said as she reached the living room where Patricia was reading.

"Yes? Have you thought about what I told you last night?"

Sybill hesitated. "Some, yeah. You were right. But ... er … what I really wanted to ask though – have you ever heard of anyone named Harry Potter?"

"Harry Potter? No." Patricia answered. "This isn't another prediction, is it?"

"Well, maybe. I don't really know anything about him – just that he's important." Sybill was surprised at herself. Only the morning before – the afternoon before, even – she'd never have dreamed of telling her mother this much about something she'd written in the journal. She would never have even mentioned it. "His name glowed."

"What?"

"In my journal, his name … glowed. It lit up on the page. Like someone was shining a lit wand from the back, except it didn't light up my hand, just the page." She said. "It's important."

Patricia frowned. "Is it still like that? Can I see it?" She asked, curious.

But Sybill did not hear innocent interest. She breathed in sharply, heartbeat increasing. Had she been holding the journal, she would've hugged it – as it was, she drew her arms around herself instead. For a few seconds, her mouth moved soundlessly and her throat refused to work. Finally, she said loudly, "No! No, you can't!"

Her mother looked surprised. "All right – if you don't want to show it to me, that's fine. No need to be so defensive."

Sybill gulped and nodded, forcing herself to smile. "Sorry," she whispered. "I'm going … uh – yeah, I'll just ..." She trailed off and ran to the stairs, taking them two at a time until she was safely back in her room, door closed and locked.

She crossed to her desk in one bound and grabbed the journal and embraced it. "I'll never let anyone else see you, I promise. I'll never her tell her another thing that's written in you, I'll -" She suddenly realized that tears were pouring from her eyes. A few seconds later, she realized that her promises to the journal were just that – promises to a journal. Laughing a little at herself, she set down the journal and dried her eyes.

Still smiling at her own moment of madness, Sybill sat down and picked up a quill. I wonder what that was about! She wrote. Of course mum wouldn't read my journal without permission! Why did I feel like that – like she was ordering me to give it up or wanting to read it for some sinister reason? Mum wouldn't do that!

Equally as confusing is the tears and hugs – not to mention promises – for the journal.

But that moment, when mum asked to see it, nothing else seemed to matter. All I could think about was keeping it 'safe'. Maybe I'm subconsciously worried that someone's going to steal it and read all my private thoughts (and my unformed predictions, though they wouldn't get much from those). Maybe it's just paranoia.

Except I am a Seer. Maybe it's not paranoia, but the Sight telling me that I should beware anyone who wants to read the journal. Maybe someone is going to steal it, or try to, someday.

I wish my Sight were less cryptic.

Less cryptic, or nonexistent, Sybill added to herself, but she'd didn't write it down. For one thing, she felt bad about wishing that a part of herself didn't exist. But also, she'd put so many predictions into the journal it would feel like betrayal to tell it that she wished she didn't have to. Like she was insulting it, or something. She closed the book gently and stroked it's cover – sometimes, she wondered whether there wasn't more to her journal than leather and parchment.

Sybill was pulled from her reverie by a tap on the door. "Honey? Are you ok?"

"Yes. I'm fine." She called back. After a moment of hesitation, she unlocked and opened the door, forcing herself to smile. "Mum? You know how my birthday's next week? Can I have a new journal?"

Her mum raised her eyebrows. "Dear, you can have a new journal anytime you want. Why for your birthday? Birthday presents are supposed to be special."

"Well, yes..." Sybill nervously glanced back at her desk, where the journal still sat. This felt like betrayal too. "But this time, I'd like a magic one. One that will lock itself and no one but me can read." She finished speaking quickly, hoping it didn't sound like an accusation.

Patricia nodded slowly. "All right. We can get one when we go to Diagon Alley to get your school things." Sybill smiled – this time for real – and her mother turned to leave, then stopped. "You know I wouldn't read your journal without permission, right? You'd just mentioned that name and I - "

"I understand, mum. But kids at school might and I don't want them to. It's private."

The morning of her birthday, Sybill woke early and smiled. It was going to be a good day – her Sight told her so.

The first good thing that happened, though it wasn't unexpected, was the tap on her window as soon as she sat up. Grinning, she bounded across the room and let in the owl holding her Hogwarts acceptance letter.

"Thank you," she told the owl, taking the heavy envelope. Before even opening it, she grabbed the prepared response – saying that she would, of course, be attending – from her desk and gave it to the owl. He hooted once and flapped away. Sybill then ripped open her letter. "Dear Miss Trelawney, we are pleased to inform you..." she began to read its contents out loud. Still reading, she made her way downstairs. "...Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall." She'd reached the kitchen. "Well mum, it would seem like I'm a witch."

Patricia glanced up from making breakfast. "Oh? Are you surprised?"

"Not all that particularly." Sybill laughed. Even if it weren't for her Sight, she'd been doing accidental spells almost since they day she was born. "Why? Are you?"

"Happy birthday, sweetie."

When an eleven-year-old got their Hogwarts' letter was, traditionally, the first time they got to go to Diagon Alley. This tradition was not set in stone and broken fairly often – usually when a child had an older brother or sister, starting before them – but Sybill herself had never been there. The trip was, as far as she was concerned, as much of a birthday treat as she needed.

She had, before the trip, filled as many pages of her journal with her jumbled thought as she could – plus a few extra with random things. Today, she was determined to act like a child who was excited to go to Hogwarts (she was, after all, exactly that) without the burden of wondering whether something would go wrong because she let a prediction slip. This was all ridiculous, of course. Her Sight had already told her it would be a good day. Nothing was going to ruin it.

Still, no harm in taking precautions.

"Mum, come on!" Sybill cried. They were in the pub that served as the entrance to Diagon Alley, The Leaky Cauldron, and Patricia seemed all too intent to have a long conversation with the bartender, Tom. Long, by Sybill's current definition, meant 'more than hello and goodbye.' She waved impatiently toward the back door. "My school shopping awaits!"

"Whatever happened to the good old days when kids didn't want school to start?" Patricia asked Tom with a laugh. He only shook his head, grinning. "All right, let's go then." Her mother pulled out her wand and tapped the special brick to open the wall to Diagon Alley.

A/N: It is official - you can never trust what I say about updates. Never. Never listen to me ever, ever again because I obviously don't know what I'm talking about. Ok, so sorry about the long wait. I won't tell you that the next one will have a shorter one, because you won't be able to trust me on that anyway, but I'll try. Hopefully the chapter itself will be longer, since this is pretty short. Anyway, thanks to all who reviewed, put on alert, and favorited!

Just as some general info about the story: It's supposed to be canon, as a description of why she did what she did and acted the way she did. No changes to the actual storyline are foreseen (but she's the Seer, not me, so who knows). Since the books never really give her an age, I have placed her in the Marauder Era - it's convenient. She's the same age as Harry's parents, which is on the young side, I know but I don't care. (I also don't care if Pottermore has given more information on her, so if it has, don't expect me to change the story to fit it)

I think that's it. Please review!