livesandliesofwizards:One of Cassandra’s great-granddaughters was so talented that she knew, almost

livesandliesofwizards:One of Cassandra’s great-granddaughters was so talented that she knew, almost instinctively, that Trelawney women would for generations to come sow calamity wherever they went, simply though Sight and Speech.It would not do. It was a cursed life. There was no point. So she booked a third-class passage (why waste money, when her end was undoubtedly so near?) on the great disaster of the age. And as her fellow passengers marveled at the size of it, the grandeur, as they brought back tales of the gilded upper decks, all those ballrooms and dining rooms and gorgeous first class folk in their jewels; she sat and thought of being swallowed up by the icy black water, of vanishing, a statistic, an accursed Trelawney name snuffed out by a terrible accident no one could see coming.She might have been consumed by selfishness, that inward-looking sin suicides are often accused of. Oh, we say, if they could look outwards and think of others, then they wouldn’t chase after death!But do you know? She soon met a kind Muggle Finn sharing a cabin with five other Finns, a sweet Polish woman with a ten-month old baby, and a laughing family from Assyria, who had come on at Cherbourg. She broke bread with a smiling girl whose father spoke sadly of Austria to a friend, fixed toys for a small boy and his smaller brother, and tickled the feet of little Millvina, who she could see (through a haze, as though it were not quite fixed yet) might have a future that would span two millenniums.But it was no use, none of this made her want to live. She was, in a sense, as anchored to fate as the boat she sat upon. So Ms. Trelawney was forgotten, and went down with the ship. Only her cryptic advice — concerning Lifeboat 15, or Collapsible 2 — remained, guiding those fellow passengers to safety, though the unsinkable was doomed to sink.Yes, she was a suicide. But she was not entirely selfish. -- source link

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