“It will come a time, when looking at her.
In her blinded eyes, you will see chess pieces sliding into place on a board filled with debris.
Every move so maddening slow over those panic stricken orbs when nowadays time trickles by so fast.
A war displayed in its most dark scenario and violence, the fear on her face so dense you would like to turn your head away.
Remember, when the gift of the Seers is awaken within someone, the knowledge will rob him or her of word’s freedom with a life’s penalty.
She knows her role for the Greater Good, and I’m most certain she will carry on her mission without complaint amidst the horrors of her visions.
Still, I ask of you, to guard over her for the Gift is a cold and unforgiving burden.
It changes the softest of the lambs into the cruelest of wolves.”

She will be of no interest.

“What makes the Seer a strong point for the party involved is the variable.”

Your babbling is useless.

“Never forget, she’s still a living, breathing being.”

…always so manipulating even in your death.

“For the Greater Good, my boy.
Muted by her gift, she won’t relent to save who she loves the most. Gladly changing fate.”
To this there was no answer, and the man in the portrait smiled with twinkling eyes meeting two black voids repeating softly
“Whom does she love the most?”

I don’t think this information will be useful, Albus. If you would kindly retreat to knitting into your portrait before I get my hands on a bottle of Turpentine…

Still those eyes smiled with sadness, glinted with ever-present curiosity and shined unnaturally omniscient.
Portrait or not he knew, like he was still alive.
But the man standing on the other side of the study chose to ignore his nagging stare, resuming his walking in circles.

Idly chatter will come into nothing when the last bout of the game is still to be played.
The outcome will always be unknown.

@ 2014 Hermes