With his hand on Tucker’s shoulder, leading him forward and away from stagnating in a corridor where they might be overheard, Keller could feel his heart beating in anticipation for whatever had just crossed Tucker’s mind. All he knew, for the moment, was that Tucker was having paralytic dreams, the kind that were serious enough to leave him looking like a wreck and to even say something to Keller about them. Keller himself had enough experience with dreams, from both Fiona and himself, to know that they could be debilitating: they could render you almost useless because of how much energy and sanity they seemed to drain from your waking hours. He looked at Tucker now as they walked, seeing him wipe away a tear, and Keller artfully looked away, so as to not let Tucker know he had seen – he didn’t want to embarrass him by asking for more information and drawing attention to his tears, and so he kept silent. Instead, he met Tucker’s eyes when the Hufflepuff boy was ready, trying to look supportive and encouraging and calm, waiting for Tucker to speak when he was able. When Tucker did finally speak, Keller was sure that he had misheard – that what Tucker had said had been conjured from the nights of sleeplessness or perhaps even his own anxiety right now, but one look at him told Keller that what Tucker said took courage and effort and not something that he told often. Keller was not unfamiliar with the concept of Sight – it was rumoured that Professor Trelawney had it, though Keller had never seen anything to prove this. “I-…” Keller trailed off, slightly speechless as his brain started to turn over the dusty information stored in the depths of his brain from years past when he had taken Divination (only for a year – he couldn’t stand it any longer than that).
Tucker spoke again, saying that something bad was going to happen, and Keller thought that you didn’t have to be a Seer to know that if you knew some of the things that had been happening around the castle of late, but he merely frowned, thinking. He hated leaving the silence between himself and Tucker unbroken like it was, but his head was almost throbbing tangibly with this new information. A Seer. The Sight. He had a thousand questions for Tucker – how did it work? What did he see? Had he ever correctly predicted something? A kind of excitement reigned in him at the prospect of learning from Tucker, but Keller knew that it wasn’t the right time for this exploration now – that could come later (he hoped). For now, he squeezed Tucker’s shoulder and dropped his hand, looking at the shorter boy as steadily as he could. “What do you mean by something bad?” Keller asked, figuring that was what Tucker probably wanted to talk about, rather than an excited exclamation of how amazing it was that he was a Seer. “I mean—did you See something in one of your dreams? Is something going to happen to the school? Or-.. someone here? I must confess that I don’t really know much about the Sight or what it entails, I mean-… is it set in stone? Is it changeable? And what does that mean about questions of fate and chance?” Keller realised was probably overloading Tucker with questions he might not able to answer, and he blushed slightly, shaking his head and murmuring an apology.
Tucker’s mouth dried up as soon as the questions started pouring from Keller’s tongue. He’d been considerably lucky so far; most people he’d shared his secret with hadn’t cared enough to want to know the details. That, or as he was just realising, they didn’t care enough—believe him enough—to ask. His brain found it hard to process all of the questions, and he felt more stupid that he had in a long time when he realised that he really didn’t know the answers. His brain was drowning in a fog that grew denser and more heavy with every word that left Keller’s lips. His heart was pounding in his chest like a bass drum, vision blurring.
Clearing his throat and straightening his posture, he began to answer. “Yah, I See the…uh, event, in my dreams… almost every night now. I haven’t slept properly in a month, now.” He spoke quietly; afraid. He knew one slip-up could send Keller on his way with a roll of his eyes… Tucker didn’t actually think Keller would do such a thing, but he didn’t want to rule it out entirely. Now, to the hard part. “I…don’t… really know,” Tucker rolled his lips into his mouth, any conviction he had left suddenly drained from him entirely. “Please, just—try to understand. This… It’s not an exact science—I don’t think it’s a science at all—and I… it’s impossible to explain. But, um…”
He took some deep breaths, crossing his arms over his chest self-consciously. His head felt so light, like it was a balloon filling with far too much helium and was seconds from bursting. “I don’t know where, or who, or um… what, exactly…” That wasn’t entirely true, but he was too scared to say it aloud. “Screaming, and blood, and so much pain…” Voice breaking again, Tucker shook his head, the horrifying flashes of crimson and ice burned into the back of his eyelids. “Keller, I—I’m sorry, I just… don’t know. I can’t show you—not that I ever would, under any circumstances, and I can’t… I… There aren’t words.”