[i] reaching out | s. trelawney

vii. the rise

In the eyes of the small human, Sybill found herself again. She found her purpose once more.

She would raise the child how she should've been raised. She wouldn't fail the child as the world had failed her so long ago.

The child would never be alone, never be abandoned, never be unloved.

Her daughter would grow up to be strong—stronger then she. The child would grow to be everything she could've been had she not been so careless.

She never named the child, claiming that when the time was right, it would appear to her. For the time being, she called her Cassandra, after the greatest Seer she could recall.

The man with the long, silver beard allowed her to live in the school with her daughter. Sybill taught Divination, and although her Sight wasn't as strong as it was in the past, she taught it well.

She would rise.

Rise for the child.

Rise from the fall.

Rise from the boy who became the man.

Rise from the trouble.

That was her gift; it wasn't the Sight. It was the ability to reach out. To the professors. To the school. To her child.

That was her gift.

the end.