sooth·say·er - /ˈso͞oTHˌsāər/
noun. a person supposed to be able to foresee the future.
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Juliet Mavor has experienced visions since she was young. Past, present, or future, she'll know what's happening in great detail. But when she interacts fac...
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"O TEACH ME HOW I SHOULD FORGET TO THINK."
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Juliet Mavor recovered quickly after she had fainted on the Hogwarts Express. Romeo, being the irrational Slytherin that he was, took to looking in the hallway, trying to find who caused it (after making sure she was still breathing, of course), but to no avail. Harry Potter had, after interacting with Juliet, subsequently hidden away in his compartment, not mentioning anything about the strange encounter to his friends.
It was nearly week later, and Juliet was still questioning the interaction. She was expecting to have an overload of visions, overriding the ones she had seen before, but to her surprise, it only took two reworkings of predicted events before everything was rectified. Even those mere changes were barely scratching the surface of their relationship to come. It was strange, the way it played out, but Juliet didn't question it. She had no idea when or why the visions started or who they were caused by, but she sure as hell didn't want to piss them off.
She was snapped out of her thoughts by the bustle of the girls around her, hastily brushing teeth and hair and applying far too bright colours of eye shadow to their lids. The Ravenclaw dormitories were, she had heard, very similar to the Gryffindor ones. But Gryffindor's residents simply did not participate in the pampering of themselves half as much as the Ravenclaws did. Although they were made out to be smart and only smart, the students of Ravenclaw liked to clean up nicely daily. It was barely a moment before Juliet's bed sunk in at the foot, one girl sitting down to curl her hair.
"I'm glad you're finally up. Breakfast is in about an hour, so you better hurry. You wanted to stop at the Owlery, right?" The girl said, wincing when the curling iron burned her finger. The girl in question, of course, was Juliet's closest dorm-mate, Vera Arthur. Vera was the girl keeping Juliet Mavor in check, making sure that she didn't screw up her chances with boys around the school (no matter how many times Juliet told her she wasn't interested) and dolling her up every time it was called for. Vera was an artist with hair and makeup- expressing her clients' feelings and ideal visions for their hair, only magnifying them. She didn't even need magic to show her talents. It was much more purely magical than actual magic, to Juliet, though. Vera weaved stories with her deft fingers, telling tales only she knew how to interpret through what she loved most.
Juliet leaped out of bed, hair disheveled and mind running a mile a minute. She didn't bother to make her bed, the covers strewn haphazardly across the mattress. Vera passed Juliet her glasses, curling another section of hair, the frenzied girl slipping them over her nose with one hand as she grabbed her wand with the other. "Thanks," she muttered, before hastily snatching her uniform from her dresser.
She bolted to the unoccupied bathroom and dressed herself with a newfound, graceful speed she hadn't experienced before. Juliet pointed her wand to her head. "Crinus muto," she spoke hastily, watching her hair swirl into a tight bun on the top of her head. It wasn't very comfortable, but it would do for the time being. Juliet needed to get down to the Owlery as fast as possible- she needed to send a letter to her mother, but what was really forcing her to get down there was the absolute positive notion that she would be properly meeting Harry Potter, the way she had predicted the first time.
