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Solis’s inherited Seer ability first manifested in early childhood, although neither she nor her family initially recognised it for what it was. Unlike the clear prophetic visions commonly associated with Seers, her Gift expressed itself primarily through intuition; an inexplicable certainty that something had happened differently from how others believed, an unsettling familiarity/Deja-vu with events that had yet to occur, or sometimes a persistent sense that some important detail had been overlooked.

These impressions were rarely accompanied by explanations. Solis might know that an accusation was mistaken without knowing who was actually responsible, or feel apprehensive about an otherwise ordinary event even without understanding what might actually happen. Occasionally she’d have brief dreams or impressions that doesn’t make any sense until much later, and sometimes nothing ever happened at all either. She couldn’t really distinguish ‘foresight’ from imagination, ordinary suspicion, or the conclusions of her own subconscious reasoning; especially when no one suspected of her being a Seer yet, everything was lumped into a simple explanation of her having ‘good intuition’. (Though her mother definitely started keeping notes, partly out of concern and partly because she was a Frostwood and could hardly be expected not to.)

This had had a significant influence on her developing personality. Throughout childhood, Solis repeatedly encountered situations in which her intuitions contradicted what everyone around her accepted as fact, and being too young and unable to articulate why she disagreed was immensely frustrating, particularly when adults dismissed her concerns simply because she couldn’t offer satisfactory explanations. The incident with the stolen sweets when she was six was one such occasion. She had been convinced that the accused child hadn't taken them, though she couldn't have said why (see FIOM for more details).

She wasn’t always right either. When she was seven, she passed the greenhouse one morning and had a tickling feeling that something was wrong with it. She couldn't have said what; everything looked perfectly ordinary, but the feeling bothered her enough that she went back to check later that afternoon. This time, she found a broken window and a boy standing beside it. Immediately convinced that he’d broken it, she confronted him and the resulting argument became quite unpleasant quickly. He had, in fact, not broken the window. A branch had fallen against the glass just as he walked past and he’d only just stopped to look at it. Solis was right that something was wrong with the greenhouse, but her intuition never actually told her someone was responsible for it; she jumped to that conclusion herself. The boy was understandably furious with her afterwards, and stomped away before she could apologise, leaving Solis to have the unpleasant realisation that she’d done much the same thing she’d once been so angry with her teacher for doing: she had decided what actually happened before bothering to find out the truth.

A more upsetting incident happened when she was nine, where Solis had dreamed that one of her mother’s research associates kneeling beside an unconscious colleague, his wand raised, in a room full of broken equipment. Although she did not remember the exact dream and brushed it off as simply peculiar, several weeks later an accident occurred during an experiment at the Frostwood Laboratory and Solis walked in on almost that exact scene. Frightened and convinced that she’d seen him attack the other researcher, she told the investigating Aurors what she know, unknowingly mixing in some details that she hadn’t really ‘seen’ with her eyes. There was already reason to suspect him before, and Solis insisted she was certain of her testimony. She’d watched the Aurors take him away, still protesting his innocence, and remembered feeling relieved that they’d believed her. However, he was released the following morning. The investigation had found that the incident was in fact caused by a piece of malfunctioned equipment, and he had actually been trying to help his injured colleague. He was kind afterwards, and even when Solis had apologised she couldn’t forget the look on his face when they’d arrested him. Her mother explained, in an effort to comfort her after seeing her white face and horrible appetite the following days, that the Aurors had made their own decisions and that Solis hadn’t been responsible for the investigation. She understood that, more or less; but it didn’t change the fact that she’d been so sure, and that she’d been wrong.

Incidents like these accumulated throughout her childhood. Some ‘intuitions’ turned out to be true and surprisingly accurate, others resulted in nothing, and occasionally she’d be right about a particular detail while being completely wrong about everything else. It left her with a rather complicated relationship with her own instincts and made her increasingly wary of her own assumptions. She was inclined to trust them because they’d proved useful before, but she also know how easily she’d convince herself of something that wasn’t true with that kind of logic. As she got older, she became increasingly particular about, especially when someone’s reputation or punishment was involved; she could spend copious amount of time questioning a conclusion everyone else had already accepted, simply because she was unsatisfied about whether they had considered other alternatives, and also afraid of falsely accusing someone again.

Of course, this doesn’t make her immune to jumping to conclusions; she is still a kid after all. Solis could be terribly stubborn once she thought she’d worked something out, and being proved right often enough hadn’t helped; she’s willing to change her mind if provided with enough evidence, but the amount of evidence needed is certainly not specified. Her parents occasionally had to remind her that disagreeing with a conclusion did not automatically make her correct either.

For years, nobody thought to connect all these incidents to a particular magical Gift. The Frostwood family had produced witches and wizards with unusual abilities (including Seers) before, and childhood accidental magic was hardly uncommon. Aurelia's notes remained inconclusive, especially since many of Solis's impressions were too vague to verify, while others only made sense in hindsight. It would take several more years before the possibility of Second Sight was seriously considered. (Around Year 1)

By then, Solis had already developed habits of questioning what she was told, looking for evidence others had overlooked, and worrying rather more than most children about the possibility of condemning someone who had done nothing wrong. It was one thing to have a feeling that somebody was lying or that an accusation was wrong. It was quite another to decide what to do about it, especially when she couldn't be certain that the feeling had told her the whole story.

Solis is an only child who grew up in a household where centuries-old magical manuscripts were considerably more common than expensive furniture, and where the question of whether something was dangerous generally led to further investigation rather than immediate disposal.

Her mother, Aurelia Frostwood, is a pureblood witch who came from a long line of scholars, researchers, experimentalists, and the occasional Dark witch/wizard. Her father, in contrast, is a ‘Muggle-born’ who was familiar with Muggle life, having grown up unaware that his parents were, in fact, Squibs from pureblood families who had been kicked out and disowned. By ancestry, Solis is therefore pure-blood; however, though the family have their suspicions, they do not yet have proof of her paternal grandparents’ origins.

Her childhood was otherwise ordinary. Solis went to a Muggle school prior to Hogwarts, and led a relatively normal mixed magical-Muggle life. She ran around fields, read whatever caught her attention, and often returned home with something peculiar in her pockets. Between her parents, Solis became familiar with both the Muggle and the magical worlds (e.g., Diagon Alley), though she had little exposure or understanding of wizarding politics.

One distinctly abnormal feature of her childhood was her unfortunate habit of ingesting poisonous plants. Following an early incident involving aconite and belladonna, which left her parents terrified and resulted in an emergency visit to St Mungo’s, it was discovered that Solis has an unusual tolerance to certain toxins, hypothesised to be linked to her magic.

Her mother subsequently became rather interested in studying the phenomenon, while her father watched on with increasing concern and exasperation. Over time, the family have gotten used to Solis’s ‘special’ palate, and poisonous meals even occasionally grace the dinner table. Visitors were warned not to eat from Solis’s plate.

At 6, Solis made every container in her (muggle school) classroom fly open: bags and pockets and pencil cases unzip and contents all flew out. The MoM went and obliviated the muggles after the aftermath; Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, Muggle Excuse Team etc..

The incident that preceded this: there's a packet of lollies that disappeared from a kid’s bag, and someone found a wrapper under another kid’s chair. As such, everyone thought that they ate it; but they defended themselves and said that they didn't steal it. However, that did absolutely nothing; especially when the teacher told them to stop lying without actually checking for evidence. Solis got increasingly upset after everyone ignored her questions of how'd they know without proof, she blurted out "but you haven't even looked!"; then all the containers flew open all at once and the stolen lollies fell out of a different kid's pocket.