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Chapter Twenty-Five
The Descendant
Dazzling sunlight reflected off the deep snows the morning after Valentine's, sending sparks of faceted light into the frigid air and melting the light frost that had settled on the castle grounds. Rivulets of water ran off the steepled roof outside of the Marauders' dormitory window, and Cassie listened to its trickling while the boys all sat in silence, absorbing the new information she and Remus had shared with them about spotting Avery and Staghart together on the map.
"It's dodgy," James admitted, running a hand through his hair and sending it into a further state of messiness. "Meeting a teacher so late at night…"
"Couldn't he have been there for anything, though?" Peter asked, looking lost. "Maybe he had a question about our homework."
"Then he could've gone to the teacher's lounge during study hall hours and asked Staghart there," Remus pointed out. "It was nearly past curfew when we saw them together."
"And given Avery's history with Defense Against the Dark Arts professors…" Sirius gave them all a significant look, and Cassie nodded.
"Dodgy," she repeated.
"So, what's our plan?" James sat up straighter on his bed, eager. "Have Evans make another Truth Serum for Avery?"
"Maybe we won't have to," said Cassie slowly. "He was perfectly honest with me over the holidays. He might be again if I asked in the right way."
Sirius scowled, a dark look crossing his features, and Cassie sensed he was remembering when she'd told him about Avery kissing her. "I'll ask."
"You already know my answer to that," she said after letting out a heavy sigh. "I'll ask, and I'll get the answers because the only one in this group Avery trusts is me, and you all know I'm right."
Sirius glared out the window but didn't argue further. James and Peter shrugged, and Remus nodded thoughtfully.
"Well, if that's all," James said, slapping his knees and standing up. "Breakfast?"
The others all muttered their assent and started for the door. Cassie climbed to her feet, rubbing her knees from where she'd been sitting on the rug in the center of the room. James went to move past her, but she stopped him with a gentle touch to his elbow.
He looked at her questioningly. "What's up, Princess?"
"Er, well…" She frowned. "Listen, it might not be my place, but last night Remus mentioned that you got some sort of letter about a fortnight ago, and that you, I dunno…might be troubled by it?" She searched his hazel eyes behind his square-rimmed spectacles. "Is there anything you need to talk about?"
He shifted away from her grasp with a small chuckle. "What? Why would I be bothered by a letter I got two weeks ago? I can't even remember what I had for dinner last night."
He grinned, and it was the same cheeky, arrogant thing that she'd always known. Maybe Remus had been wrong to be worried. The letter could've been anything or nothing entirely.
"All right." She blew out her cheeks. "But James, if there's anything – anything – you ever need or want to talk about, I'm here."
He pinched her cheeks, smiling when she pouted. "You're so cute when you're worried about me." She rolled her eyes. "But there's nothing to worry about. Promise."
"Hurry up!" Peter shouted from the staircase. "The food's going to be gone by the time you two get there!"
"Blimey, Wormtail, keep your whiskers on!" called James. "We're coming."
But as they exited the dormitory, Cassie couldn't shake the feeling that James was hiding something from her.
What was so bad that it would make even James Potter keep a secret?
Lily shook out her copy of that morning's Daily Prophet with more vigor than was required, nearly knocking Cassie's goblet of pumpkin juice into her scrambled eggs before she managed to catch it.
"What is it, Lils?" she asked, subtly moving her goblet away as Lily scanned the Prophet with critical eyes. The other girls and the Marauders looked over in curiosity at Cassie's question, temporarily abandoning their breakfasts (save Peter, who continued to inhale sausages at an alarming rate).
"The new Minister of Magic is being sworn in today," she said, still reading. "Millicent Bagnold."
Cassie started. "I know that name. She joined the Wizengamot the same year as my father."
"Bagnold?" James wrinkled his nose. "That old witch?"
Lily peered over the paper at him. "You know her?"
"I've met her once or twice," said James with an air of boredom.
"And?"
"Imagine if Carlisle and McGonagall had a child together."
There was a brief moment of silence until Sirius said, "Not something I want to imagine, but sounds awful."
"She's a hardliner," Cassie said in distaste. "She was the first seat to vote 'yes' on increasing the number of dementors at Azkaban if I remember right."
"So, another Minchum, but in heels," surmised Remus.
"Well, it says here that her first priorities are to reinforce Azkaban's security measures and crack down on violent criminals, including Death Eaters," Lily said. "Starting with—oh."
Her eyes darted to Cassie before averting quickly. Cassie tensed, fearing she already knew who the Minister's first target was.
"You can say it," she told Lily wearily.
Lily gave her a tight nod. "Starting with Will and Erebus Kane."
The table lapsed into silence again. Even Peter had stopped eating.
"Still nothing from him?" Alice whispered, her gaze on Cassie.
She shook her head. "Not so much as a hint."
"Something's not right," James insisted. "He dropped clues for you left and right for the last year, and now he's gone completely silent. What's he playing at?"
Cassie stared at her now-cold eggs, not hungry at all anymore. She'd been wondering the same things for weeks since she'd found out Will had escaped Azkaban. Whatever he was planning on doing with Kane, it seemed he did not want Cassie to be a part of it at all. But hadn't she made that clear before Will had gone to Azkaban? They weren't on the same side anymore. Perhaps Will really had taken her words to heart.
But if there was anyone who might have a clue as to what Kane's next move would be…
"Dunno," she said eventually. "But we have Staghart after lunch today, and I plan on getting some answers."
Sirius nodded. "We'll back you up."
She flashed him a grateful smile despite the needle of guilt that threaded through her after their conversation the day before. He grinned back, as unflappable as ever, but there was a shadow in his eyes that seemed much like a closed and locked door. It made her smile fade quickly.
"Well," Marlene said bracingly, "lessons start soon. Shall we?"
They polished off their breakfasts before leaving. Dozens of other students crowded out of the Hall and piled onto the marble staircase as nine o'clock approached, and Cassie was jostled left and right as she climbed the stairs.
Her shoe accidentally trod on the hem of someone's robe, and both she and the student stumbled, their hands simultaneously darting out to grab the banister.
"Sorry!" Cassie said, looking up at the person she'd almost tripped before her face fell into a scowl when she recognized Severus Snape glaring down at her. "Oh. Never mind. I take that back."
"Watch where you're stepping, Alderfair," he hissed, spitting out her name like it was a wretched curse. His black eyes nearly glowed with hatred, and she drew herself up, about to retort, when Remus appeared back at her side.
"Everything all right?" he asked. She glanced up the stairs, but the others had already been swept off by the crowd. "I turned around and you were gone."
His gaze finally shifted from her to Snape, and his face went bloodless. Snape was staring at Remus as if he had been Petrified, not moving a muscle. The skin around his eyes had gone white, and a flash of terror flitted across his face, which had turned the color of curdled milk.
Remus had not missed the look, and he appeared ill as Snape shot him one last glance of loathing and fear before the Slytherin boy turned and practically fled up the stairs.
Cassie had half a mind to grab her wand, but she let Snape run and turned instead to Remus, who looked one moment away from being sick.
"Come on," she said quietly, slipping her hand into his and tugging him after her as she began to shove people out of the way, ignoring their mutters of protest and disgruntlement.
They made it to the first floor, and Cassie pushed her way inside the nearest boys' lavatory with Remus still in tow. A third-year Ravenclaw washing his hands looked up with a squeak when she entered, but she shot him a warning look.
"Beat it," she snapped.
The boy ran without even drying his hands and left them alone. Cassie used her wand to lock the bathroom door as Remus sagged against one of the sinks, ashen-faced and glassy-eyed.
"Snape is a foul git," she said, stowing her wand away and going to Remus's side. "Remus. You know that. What he thinks doesn't matter."
"It's what he felt when he looked at me, Cassie," he said, his voice hoarse. "I know you saw it. Snape was afraid of me. He looked at me like I was a – a…"
He shuddered and squeezed his eyes shut.
"He's foul," Cassie repeated. "You are not a monster."
"A part of me always will be," he whispered. "And don't deny it, Cassie, you know it's true!" he said when she opened her mouth. "I'm sick of pretending! I—"
His voice broke, and he breathed raggedly, hunched over the sink. "People are always going to look at me the way that Snape did. It's high time that both you and I accept that."
She stayed silent as he switched on the faucet and splashed his face with water, her reassurances washing down the drain. As much as she wanted to push back, a part of her knew that it would only assuage her own feelings. She was one person, not the whole of wizarding society, and wizards feared werewolves – that was a fact. A generalization, but an overwhelming majority of one. Snape's reaction had only driven that point deeper. All she could do for Remus was be there for him and support him in whatever way she could.
Suddenly, she was furious – at Snape, at herself, at the world. Remus was a good person – the best one she had ever known. What power was cruel enough to put this much agony and burden onto the shoulders of a boy who was nothing but love and kindness and loyalty? How was it fair? How was it right?
The clockwork locket dug into the meat of her palm with a dull spark of pain. She hadn't even realized she'd reached for it until she felt its gears, quick and pulsing, fluttering in sync with her own heart. For a brief, blinding moment, she wondered if she could use it, the magic of the Seven Elders. Could she use it to make Remus happy? Could she take away his lycanthropy? In that one brilliant, heady moment, she understood it. She understood Will. She wanted to change the tides of fate. She wanted to change the minds of people to see Remus the way she saw him. She wanted the magic to shape and break and mold. She wanted power.
She let go of the locket, her skin feverish and her blood roaring in her ears. Bile rose in the back of her throat. Even if the thoughts had been flashes, sparks, they had still crossed her mind. She had still considered them as antidotes instead of poisons.
Never, she thought vehemently. Never, never, never. I am not Will. I am not my brother.
Remus turned the faucet off, and the squeak of the brass knob was what brought her back to the present. Water dripped from his chin, the tip of his nose, but he made no movement. His hands still clutched the sides of the sink, and his shoulders stood out, taut against the fabric of his uniform.
Swallowing down the sour taste in her mouth, she pulled a handkerchief from her bookbag and approached Remus. Gently, she began to dab away the excess water on his face, and she was glad to see that it had regained some color, even if his eyes were dark and faraway still.
He didn't move until she'd dried his face and put away the handkerchief. Wordlessly, he finally met her gaze. The look was so hollow and sad that it made something in her chest crack, a fissure that crawled up her throat and opened a deep pit in her stomach. She stood on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his neck. He buried his face in her shoulder as he held her close, and if she felt her sleeve dampen, she said nothing of it. The bell chimed nine o'clock, but they didn't move. Cassie wasn't even sure if she wanted to. Remus was so warm and so sturdy, and he always seemed to give her strength. She never wanted to let go.
His arms tightened around her as if he'd heard her thoughts, and her face warmed. She'd hugged Remus before, but this time felt different. Intimate. The word came to her unbidden, and her cheeks grew warmer. It felt more like an embrace she might've shared with Sirius.
To shed the thought, she drew back slightly. A few strands of her hair stuck to the dampness on Remus's cheek, and he absently reached up and brushed them off, tucking them back behind her ear. It was an unconscious gesture, but her spine locked all the same as he turned away and scrubbed at his eyes. Knots twisted in her stomach, and she faced the door before Remus could see her flushed face.
She thought of saying something to fill the void of silence, but nothing felt appropriate. And if Remus had anything to say, then he was not sharing it.
Finally, she gathered her courage and said, "Are you up for Charms?"
"Yeah," he said, his voice slightly hoarse. "Can't afford to fall behind now. Let's go."
She unlocked the lavatory door, and they stepped out into the empty corridor – nearly empty, for as soon as they emerged, Peeves the Poltergeist swooped down on them from the ceiling with a cackling cry.
"Naughty, naughty!" he shouted, his sly face twisted in a delighted sneer as Cassie and Remus both froze in their tracks. "Naughty kiddies skiving to get a quick snog in, eh? NAAAUUUGGHHTTYYYY!"
He cackled again, twirling in the air as his voice echoed horribly down the corridor.
"Peeves, shut up!" Cassie yelled, mortified.
"No use arguing with him," Remus said, casting the portly poltergeist a disdainful look as he grabbed Cassie's hand. His face and neck were red, but Cassie feared she wasn't much better as they took off down the corridor. "Run!"
They ran for it, Peeves's taunts following them the whole way, and Cassie's teeth gnashed together as they booked it around a corner.
I really hate this school sometimes.
She was beginning to think that time had purposefully slowed as the day crept by, each minute as lethargic and sluggish as molasses. Lessons were a distracting drone, and she had barely tasted her lunch, too impatient and apprehensive for Defense Against the Dark Arts to care about much else.
By the time the lesson did finally roll around, her palms had slicked with sweat, and her heart rate had quickened to the frantic pace of a fluttering bird trapped in a cage. The thought of confronting Staghart and Avery had her wary, on edge, remembering the last time she'd been faced with the Slytherin and a Defense teacher. She almost hadn't survived that encounter. But she needed answers, and she was tired of secrets and lies. She would get the truth from them, one way or another.
As she walked to the desk she shared with Marlene, she passed Avery's seat and discreetly dropped a spare bit of parchment next to his hand. It was a note she'd scribbled in her last lesson: We need to talk. Stay after class.
She didn't look to see his reaction, but she felt his eyes on her back as she sat down and took out her materials. Marlene glanced at her and said out of the corner of her mouth "Mission accomplished?"
Cassie nodded. "He got the message. Mulciber didn't even notice. He was too busy looking for his quill."
"Well, James should've given it back by now," she said.
"Knowing him, he definitely did not," Cassie said with a small sigh that was equal parts fond and exasperated.
Her suspicions were only confirmed when she and Marlene turned and spotted James snickering over Mulciber's futile efforts to find his quill. James had his feet on the desk and his wand out, using it to keep a simple quill suspended in the air while in front of him, Mulciber bent on all fours to search under his own desk.
When James saw Cassie and Marlene looking at him, he gave a jaunty wave and winked. Cassie rolled her eyes.
She only pretended to pay attention to Professor Staghart's lesson on Time-Turners and the principles of time magic, her mind instead on the mystery of the Seven Elders and Staghart's own role in it. She felt she was back at square one, like when Will had first given her the clockwork locket. Her brother's riddles back then were almost simple compared to the ones she was presented with now. How on earth was she meant to solve any of this? And more importantly, why did it matter so much to Will? What was he really after?
She glanced down at her parchment when she heard a small tear. Her quill had punctured straight through the paper, a tiny hole amidst the dark stain of blotted ink. She watched the edges of the ink shiver and spread, a pool of black that slowly grew larger.
Will's voice echoed back to her as she stared at the ever-widening blotch. "I'm on the side that will save both of us in the end."
The ink had reached its limit. The blotch ceased growing, hovering uncertainly as its edges no longer devoured the parchment and began to dry. Such a small rip, but the blotch was twice its size. A disruption that had swelled until it could no longer move or grow, finally constrained by its own properties. Cassie stared at it.
A disruption.
"Lord Voldemort is nothing but a fear-monger to those of lesser houses—he forgets who the true royalty of the wizarding world is.
"And I'm going to remind him."
Cassie's heart had climbed into her throat. She didn't want to believe it. She did. She couldn't trust Will anymore. Could she?
After everything he'd done, forgiving him was impossible. But this wasn't forgiveness, was it? It was something else, something she had yet to name, but she could feel it, tantalizingly close, just out of reach. She wanted to grasp it with both hands, but she was still shackled in the dark, hidden—
Shielded, once again, from her brother's true motives.
And that feeling, that one she so desperately wanted to grab, wanted to believe in again—
The bell tolled deep within the belly of the castle, ending the lesson and startling her out of her tumultuous thoughts.
Marlene stood as Cassie fumbled with her things, and the blonde girl looked down at her with worry. "Will you be all right?"
Cassie stood, too, and shouldered her bag. "I'll be fine, Mar."
"We'll be right outside," she reminded before squeezing Cassie's shoulder and exiting the classroom with the others.
She caught Sirius's eye before he left, and though he looked unhappy, he gave Cassie an encouraging nod. All she could do was nod back and hope she looked brave and fierce despite the anxiety curling in the pit of her stomach. Then he was gone, and she looked up and realized that she was alone with Avery and Staghart.
Avery walked slowly to her side. Staghart was packing up his briefcase, his movements stiff and mechanical, as if he were in pain. He had yet to realize that the two of them were still in the classroom. Avery gave her an imperious look.
"What's this about?" he asked, garnering the attention of Staghart.
The professor's tawny eyes fastened on them in curiosity, and it wasn't until then that Cassie noticed how tired and dull they were. Coupled with his movements, she wondered if he was ill. "Ah, Miss Alderfair; Mr. Avery. What can I do for the two of you?"
Cassie's answer was to draw her wand and point it at the door. "Colloportus."
The door sealed itself, and the click of the lock was unnaturally loud in the silent room.
Staghart straightened at his desk, his face remarkably neutral, but Avery's eyebrow ticked up.
"You're usually quite forthcoming with your words, Alderfair." He gave her an infuriating smirk. "Cat got your tongue?"
She decided to start with him. "Why were you meeting Staghart so late last night?"
"Watching me?" His smirk deepened. "I'm flattered."
She turned to Staghart. "Well? And don't lie to me," she snapped when he opened his mouth. "You're the one who suggested an alliance, so if you want my trust, start talking. Now."
He grimaced, but the look turned into a wince when a flash of pain flitted across his face. Before Cassie could ask if something was wrong, Avery spoke.
"I had questions," he said. His eyes cut to Staghart before he glanced back at her. He sighed. "You see, today's my birthday."
Cassie stared at him. "So?"
"When the clock struck midnight last night, something strange happened." Avery nodded to Staghart. "He was the only one I could think of to help."
A pit had suddenly settled in Cassie's gut. "What happened?"
"The mark of the Seven," Staghart answered. "Last night, when Mr. Avery turned seventeen, the magic of the Seven Elders awoke in him. Just like it did with you and me."
"You can't be serious." Cassie stared hard at the professor. "There's absolutely no way that Avery is a descendant of the Seven."
"I assure you that it's quite possible." Staghart sat down behind his desk. His skin had a sour taint, but she figured it was just the grey light filtering in through the high windows. "Bloodlines adapt with time just like everything else. Even if a name dies out, blood can live on. Not every line endures without change."
"I'm not disputing that." Cassie thrust a finger at Avery. "I'm disputing him."
Avery looked utterly bored. "That chip on your shoulder must be painful to carry around all the time. Must I still be forced to grovel and beg for your trust?"
She whirled on him. "You tried to have me killed last year!"
His eyes flashed. "Do you really want to bring up past mistakes again? I still have quite a few I can charge you with."
"Let's not be hasty," Staghart said, raising his hand. "Cassie, I understand your confusion, but as you said, we are supposed to be working together. What reason would I have to lie to you?"
"Any reason," she said, but it was an absurd excuse even to her own ears. He had told her of Kane and his past, and that he was on her side. So had Will, but at that moment, she couldn't seem to rouse that sense of betrayal, that distrust.
Staghart's brows rose. "You and I both know that that is not the truth of things."
She scowled but otherwise had no answer.
"You could see Mr. Avery coming to me as a stroke of luck, or perhaps the will of fate," continued Staghart. "With him, we now number as three descendants. One more than your brother and Kane. And with the locket in our possession, they have nothing. This is a good thing, Cassie, don't you see?"
"Even with Avery, we still can't use the locket." She gestured at the Slytherin. "Does he even know about it?"
"It was mentioned that your locket is a secret spellbook," Avery confirmed, "but I have a hard time believing it."
Her eyes narrowed. "Either way, you'll be staying away from it."
He glared back before Staghart broke in.
"We don't have to use it. We just have to safeguard it." He sounded breathless. "If I know Kane, he will try anything to have the locket as his own. We must not allow that to happen."
Cassie threw another acidic look at Avery. "You hear that?"
"Yes. Fortunately, I'm not as dense as you are." He plowed on before Cassie could retort. "What do you mean when you say that Kane will try anything?"
Staghart was breathing heavily now. A sheen of sweat coated his brow and neck, soaking into the collar of his violet robes.
"Professor?" Cassie said at the same time Avery asked, "What's wrong?"
"Could one of you – please open the window?" Staghart gasped, clutching his chest. "It's a bit – stifling in here."
Cassie took a step back as she and Avery exchanged alarmed glances. "Perhaps we should get Madam Pomfrey?"
Avery nodded. "I think that's the first good idea you've had since locking that door."
Before she could take another step, Staghart coughed, a wet, ugly cough. He hacked again, and Cassie gasped when blood spurted from his mouth, splattering the desk and several student essays.
Avery's face went pale as Staghart suddenly lurched forward with a cry. He tumbled out of his chair and hit the floor, coughing and gasping as blood began streaming from his lips, his nose, his ears, his eyes. He thrashed on the floor as awful, gurgling cries spilled out of him along with the blood – so much blood in so short a time. Before Cassie fully dispelled the shock freezing her limbs in place, he was covered in it, surrounded by it. She seized Avery's arm.
"Go get help!" she shouted. When he stood, motionless, Cassie shook him. "Avery! Listen to me! Get help! Madam Pomfrey – someone."
She shoved him toward the door and went to her knees, hovering uncertainly over her writhing teacher.
"Professor? Professor!" She extracted her wand on instinct before she paused, realizing with horror that she had no idea what to do. Bloody foam bubbled on Staghart's lips and nostrils, and his tawny eyes, bloodshot and agonized, wept red tears. What was happening to him?
Avery was gone. The door had been flung open, and she only hoped that he could find someone who could help. Staghart's erratic movements were slowing, weakening into jerky twitches and tremors. His frightened gaze sought her own, and she choked on a cry.
"It's all right," she found herself saying, over and over. "It's all right. Avery's gone to get help. It's all right."
She tried to shift him onto his side, but his massive bulk was too much for her. His head flopped limply into her lap, and she used two of her fingers in an attempt to scoop the frothy blood from his mouth. Clear liquid fell and speckled his cheek, and she recognized that she was crying.
"Hold on, Professor," she said. "It's all right. Avery's gone—"
Her voice broke when his trembling hand reached for her face. He had gone still in her arms, though his wet breath rasped in and out of him like a saw. She thought he was going to cup her cheek, but as she watched, his fist closed around the locket where it had slipped out from the collar of her robes.
Nothing happened. Staghart swept a bloody thumb over the surface, but the locket remained motionless, its clockwork heart thrumming along as steady as ever, out of time with her own frantically beating one. It wasn't until then that she realized he was trying to speak.
"Professor?" Cassie leaned closer. "What is it?"
"Office…" he rasped. "Portrait…"
"What? Professor? Professor!"
His hand slipped from the locket and landed with a dull thump on the floor, scattering more blood like spilled rubies. Cassie stared in horror and shook him. "No, no, no, no! Professor! Professor, please!"
But all that reflected in his empty gaze was the locket, bloody and glittering and cold.
RIP Staghart. You will be missed.
Please let me know your thoughts!
Next Chapter: The Minister and the Portrait
Until next time!
(Cassie's Animagus form reveal has been pushed back a bit, but don't worry, it's still coming!)
