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Sybil hadn’t meant to stumble across the patch of ditch weed growing wildly out of hand in the Forbidden Forest. She was seventeen and searching for something stronger. But who was she to turn down such a precious little gift nestled away in the forest?
So, she tended the patch of ditch weed, yanking out the plants that were encroaching on it and watering it whenever rain happened to be scarce, rare as that was. She took her time drying and preserving the cuttings she took. And, of course, she smoked it.
She’d set herself up in the shade of one of the trees surrounding the patch. She’d lean back into the rough bark and roll and light a joint.
On one such occasion she spotted a dark figure and threw her shoe at it before realizing it was only Severus Snape. He threatened to tell Dumbledore about her ditch weed if she didn’t share. She wished she’d had better aim.
Unfortunately, he made rather good company despite all of his glaring character flaws. (And he was pretty decent at homebrewing booze.)
Neither of them expected the visions that Sybil began to suffer some time after their reluctant friendship began. (Sybil had smoked plenty before and it had never triggered the Sight, it was part of why she’d initially hiked into the woods in search of other mind-altering substances.)
According to Severus, she’d sit bolt upright from wherever she had been flopped over to enjoy her high. Her eyes would glaze over, and she’s stare into nothing and speak words that sent Snape spiraling into high paranoia. And then she’d collapse back onto the ground for a few minutes before coming to and continuing on with her usual high activities.
Usually she didn’t remember these episodes, knew of them only because Severus was there to witness them.
But one time, she swore she’d seen a younger version of the Dark Lord who was plastered all over the papers as the war ramped up. He’d been knelt in the patch of ditch weed, carefully tending it in much the same way that Sybil herself did.
That couldn’t be right though, it was as preposterous as the vision she’d had of Lily Evans marrying James Potter and the subsequent one of Snape falling to a giant snake.
She had utmost confidence in her Sight, but these were just the ditch weed. She was sure.