Title: Eyes of the Chosen
Author: Emcee
Summary: Ron worries about his vision, Machka visits Sybill Trelawney and Draco's new loyalties bring an unlikely companion.
Author's Note: Thank-you to my muses, Rae and Fre and my beta and Pablo. This story is AU to "Order of the Phoenix". It is the sequel to Labyrinth of Illusion.

Disclaimer: "Harry Potter" and the characters, places and things related to it do not belong to me. They are from the brilliant mind of JK Rowling. They belong to her and her publishers. I am not making any profit from this fan fiction.

CHAPTER EIGHT
Hematomancy

Machka jumped as Sirius threw a book at the wall. It hit with a loud thunk, loose pages fluttering out. The book slid down the wood wall, joining the other leather bound volumes that had been tossed there.

"Do you mind not ruining my library?" Machka snapped. "These books are one of a kind. I'd rather not have to repair all of them."

"I'm so sorry!" Sirius began to pace, running his hands through his long, scraggily hair. "I'm just a little bit frustrated because we've been at this for over a day and we've turned up nothing! The Kalderasha are supposed to be experts with Divinations-- yet you have absolutely nothing about Seer eyes being used in dark magic."

"Well, it's a rather sensitive subject with us." Machka shut her book. "The second most dangerous dark wizard of the century came from our clan. Griendelwald is the reason most Merlins despise us. You can see how that might make us a bit shy about addressing the subject of the Dark Arts."

Sirius scrubbed his face with his hands. "I'm sorry. I'm tired. How long have we been doing this?"

"Almost thirty hours now." Machka stood up, brushing a lock of Sirius' hair out of his face. "No wonder you're going nutters. I'm about to lose it myself. We're not going to do any good if we're sleep-deprived. We need to go to bed."

Sirius blinked. "Together?"

Machka shook her head. "You're going to sleep in Derek's room. I would send you up to Hogwarts, but I'm afraid you'd fall asleep on the way there."

Sirius nodded slowly. He followed Machka down the hall. There were four doors. She opened up the first door.

Inside had been decorated with a mix of Divinations charts and Quidditch posters. There were several wizarding pictures affixed to the wall. Sirius zeroed in on one.

It must have been five or six years old. Machka was waving from the frame, along with a very small Derek and a teenaged Savori.

"Savori's beautiful," Sirius whispered, "When I got out, I tried to picture what she would look like in my head. I didn't do her justice." He touched her waving hand with his thumb. "You didn't tell me where she is."

Machka sat down on the bed, picking up a stuffed animal. It was very shaggy looking wolf. "Savori's been sick, Sirius. She had to leave school, she was so ill."
Sirius turned to Machka, horror in his eyes. "Is she all right? What's wrong? Where is she?"

"She's in hospital." Machka stared down at the toy in her lap. "She's doing well. I see her almost every week. No one is quite sure what's wrong with her. But she's... Not well."

"Remus would never tell me." Sirius sat down beside Machka. "I asked him about you, Savori and Derek but he avoided the subject. I guess that's why."
He stared at the young boy now. "Does Derek know about me? Did you ever tell him I was his father?"

Machka nodded. "After you escaped. When you attacked that portrait at Hogwarts." She touched her forehead. "He was so angry at me keeping it from him, he didn't even come home for Christmas. Since Remus and Dumbledore told us of your innocence, he's really warmed to the idea. I think he believes you to be some sort of romantically tragic hero."

"And I'm not?" Sirius gave a small smile.

"Tragic, yes... I'm not sure about the rest." Machka returned the tiny smile. "Derek's a good kid. Quiet. He's very into Divinations-- No, he doesn't have the Sight," He answered Sirius' concern before he could even voice it. "It's all theory with him. He's a bit too fond of Hematomancy for my liking. He's never had many friends. He was really attached to that Diggory boy. You know-- the one who."

"I know who Cedric Diggory is." Sirius' voice went low and dark.

"He stammers. He's had it his whole life. He started to get over it when he went into school, but... It's come back, since Diggory died. I..."

Machka trailed off, hugging the toy in her lap harder.

"You what?" Sirius prodded, touching her hand.

"I wasn't a very good mother," she whispered, "I kept Derek and Savori hidden away. I never let them know about the Merlin wizarding world. I kept my secrets about you... I can't help but think I'm the reason so many things went wrong for them. Maybe if I had been more mindful..."

"Maybe if I had been here," Sirius added.

"It wasn't your fault," Machka replied, "I was here. I had no excuse."

Sirius cradled Machka's face in his hands. "I'm sure you did the best you could."

Machka pulled Sirius' hands away from her. "It's late." She got up. "We have a lot of work still ahead of us."

Sirius watched as Machka walked to the door. "Machka?"

She turned. "Yes?"

"Why are you so angry at me?"

Machka sighed, leaning against doorframe. "I'm not. You have to realise, Sirius... When I first saw you again... There were so many emotions coming back to me." She shrugged. "And throwing a book seemed like the way to go."

"In that case..." Sirius gave her a weak smile. "Confusion doesn't become you."

****

Draco's stomach was writhing as he thought over everything that Professor Snape had told him.

Was he really capable of doing this? Snape had said point blank he was a coward. Was standing up to his father really the cowardly thing to do?

Was he really a coward? Self-serving, maybe... But a coward?

Who was he kidding? Bravery was a Gryffindor trait, and he had none of those.

Draco sat up, putting his robes over his pyjamas. He needed to get some fresh air. The dungeons always got such a stale smell to them. It had become even worse since Blaise Zabini decided to take up smoking.

Strolling out to the corridor, Draco made his way up to the main floors. As as he got up the stairs, he felt fresh, clean air fill his lungs. It was crisp with January's bitter cold. The window sill's had a layer of snow building up.

Draco needed to be wary of Mr. Filch and his ever-watchful cat. The last thing Draco wanted to do was get detention.

As he walked along the corridors and up stairs, he heard the familiar yowl of Mrs Norris. Draco felt his heart began to pound. He raced up the stairs to the Astronomy Tower. He wretched the door open, shutting it quickly behind himself.

A young, dark-haired boy stared at Draco in disbelief. He had a piece of paper in front of him, and a bowl in his hand.

Draco blinked at his took him a moment to recognise the boy. Crabbe was particularly fond of beating up this Hufflepuff: Derek the Gypo.

"What the hell are you doing?" Draco demanded.

Derek turned back to his project. "Th-that's n-none of your bu-business."

Draco rose to full height. "I beg to differ. I'm a Prefect."

"P-P-Prefect's aren't su-supposed t-t-to b-be up now e-either." Derek continued to mix ingredients in his bowl.

"Stop, I order you!" Draco shouted.

"No!" Derek yelled back. "I have to do this! They killed her!"

Draco's felt his heart stop. Derek was a Gypsy. Did he somehow sense that Lucius had murdered Martja? Snape had told him to be mindful of students he would normally not associate with. Derek the Gypo would certainly qualify.

"Who killed who?" Draco asked.

"Jakhori," His voice was even, sad. "My friend. But I'm sure you know about that already..." Derek shot Draco a deadly glare. "It was probably your father who did it."

You're probably right, Draco said to himself. He knelt on the floor. "And just what do you think you're going to do?"

"I'm going to find out for sure. Now why don't you go tell on me? I don't have the Sight, so maybe they'll just torture me."

"I'm not going to tell on you," Draco replied. "I wouldn't get anything out of it. Besides, I doubt you can do anything?"

"Wh-what makes you th-think th-that?" Derek replied.

"Because you're an idiot Hufflepuff. Go ahead. Try." Draco gestured to Derek's project. "I'd like to see you fail."

Derek picked up a knife. Draco reached for his wand. He had a fleeting thought of Derek lunging at him. Instead, Derek drew the knife across his palm, splitting open the flesh.

"What do you think you're doing?" Draco jumped backwards, watching the blood spill into the bowl.

"Hematomancy," Derek replied, "T-taking power from my own b-b-blood."

"Hematomancy is Divinations," Draco sneered. "You're not trying to read the future. You're trying to read the present."

Derek rolled his eyes. "Merlins." He poured the mixture onto the parchment before him. He shut his eyes, muttering in Romani. Draco noted he didn't stammer.

The blood had spattered on the parchment. Draco now recognised it as a map. He understood now: Derek was using Divinations to locate the murderers of his friend.

It wouldn't work, even if he did it right. If it was the Death Eaters, they would have blocked against this sort of thing.

Derek opened his eyes, looking down at the map. The blood began to spread, forming the words: NO.

The paper then jumped up, burning into ashes.

"Wh-why d-didn't it work?" Derek asked, putting his hand to his forehead. Blood spread across his face.

"Because you're a dumb Hufflepuff like I said?" Draco snarled. "Bandage your hand, you fool."

"Get the Hell out of here!" Derek yelled. "Why do you can about any of this?"

"Maybe I don't want you to bleed to death while I'm in the room! Wait until I leave to off yourself!"

Derek was about to shoot back a response when the door swung open. Mr. Filch held up his lamp. He grinned, showing off yellowed teeth. "Two for detention tonight."

Draco stared at Mr. Filch, his eyes wide in surprise.

Meanwhile, beside him, Derek passed out from loss of blood.

****

As Draco Malfoy and Derek Kalderasha were caught by Filch, another boy at Hogwarts had trouble sleeping.

It was not difficult to understand why, considering everything Ron had been through in the past few days. However, Ron's inability to sleep had absolutely nothing to do with the trauma he had experienced.

Ron's head felt like it was going to split open. His brain had liquefied sometime during the afternoon and was preparing to seep out of his ears.

He didn't want to go to Madame Pomfrey. He had spent enough time in the Hospital Wing for any one person. Besides, if he were really having visions there was nothing a mediwitch could do.

Was he having real visions? Hermione and Harry seemed sure... They seemed to have a better understanding about this kind of thing than he did.

Ron sat up in his four poster bed, looking around the room. Seamus had buried himself under his blankets, his head covered with his pillow. Neville was snoring in his bed. Dean had one leg and arm hanging off the end of his bed. They were all still, sleeping fitfully.

Harry, on the other hand, was thrashing around in his bed. Harry had been consumed by nightmares since Cedric's death. Not a night passed that Ron didn't hear his best friend call out.

Maybe Ron would start calling out in his sleep too. After that terrifying vision of the Gypsy girl, it wouldn't surprise him.

Could he handle this? Ron had heard terrible stories about Seers who had gone crazy with visions of the future. With what was to come, with You-Know-Who loose again, could he handle the visions?

And what was with the vision of the map and the blood? George interrupted the vision before he was able to complete it. Was someone in danger? Could Ron have saved the person if he had seen to the end?

He needed answers. He needed to know if he was truly having visions or not. Ron felt his stomach turn. There was only one person he could think of asking.

****

"I usually do not receive visitors so late at night..." Her voice light and misty, Sybill Trelawney's wide eyes were even larger behind her thick glasses. She had an extra thick and ostentatious shawl wrapped around her shoulders. "I was reading the stars. My inner eye has foreseen danger. The spirits cry in mourning..." She wailed out, wiping her eyes.

"Can the theatrics, Sybill," Machka pulled her satchel up on her shoulder. "I need to speak with you."

"Tell me why you are in my presence, my Roma ally. It has been many years since you have come to this school." Sybill seemed to glide across the floor towards her visitor.

"You and I have different methods of teaching the art of Divinations, but the result is the same: giving students a way to see the future. Now tell me, with your divine eye, what you have seen."

Sybill clucked her tongue. "I see your bitter envy. For your adult life, you have guided the way to those gifted with the sight. You have watched them surpass you. All of your knowledge on Divinations cannot help you reach their level."

Biting her lip, Machka stared down at the floor. "Sybill, I really need to speak with you." The words were drawn out, as if it took a lot of effort to speak evenly. "This isn't a good time to read my aura. Have you heard about the girl? About Jakhori."

Sybill nodded, picking up her crystal ball. "A student of yours. Albus has mentioned her to me. You saw a lot of promise in her. Alone in the world with no family, you thought she might be the one to bring change to your clan. Has she risen to her task?"

"She's dead."

The globe in Sybill's hand slipped from her fingers. It broke into large chunks against the stone floor. Sybill paid it no heed, her eyes becoming even larger. "And this is the reason you come to me... Her death was no accident then."

Machka nodded slowly. "It was on order of the one you fear to name... The Death Eaters are the only ones who could have conducted such an execution. They took something from her."

Sybill nodded, removing her glasses. "They cut out her eyes, didn't they?"

Not able to contain her anger any more, Machka slammed her hand down on a table. "The magic of the Sight lays in their eyes. I need to know what Voldemort can do with that magic!"

"I ask you," Sybill's voice had lost it's mysterious air, hard and cold, "Not to use that name within my class. You have your own knowledge of Divinations. I thought you Gypsies," she spat the word as if it were a curse, "Prided yourself on doing everything for yourself. If this is an issue within your clan, let it remain that way."

"You're frightened," Machka let out a bitter laugh. "I may not have the Sight, but I can see that. You know as well as I do, Voldemort won't settle for one pair of Seers eyes. He will seek out another, and another. You may well be in danger. He will kill you. He will kill any Seers you have in your classes."

"I have none," Sybill replied. "I have students who are particularly interested in Divinations, but none who hold the true visions."

"My hu--" Machka cut herself off abruptly. "A friend of mine from the school said there's a student who has had visions. Ron Weasley."

"Mr. Weasley?" Sybill laughed heartily. "That boy wouldn't know psychic power if it smacked him in the face. I have seen no evidence of true Sight in nearly a decade."

"Well then." Machka pulled something out of her satchel. "There's only one thing left for me to do."

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