"Tell me again why we need to do this at the buttcrack of dawn," Adrian said, walking behind Cassandra. At five thirty in the morning, they had left the castle and set off in the darkness toward the area behind the Quidditch field.
"Arithmancy, Adrian, that's why," Cassandra answered patiently. "Performing a ritual at a mirror hour makes it so the magic and intent being channeled are amplified and reinforced twofold, and I need the boost since I've never performed this one before. 06:06 am is the only time we could do this without risking a detention or being interrupted."
"Fine," Adrian huffed. "Is this it?" He asked, pointing to a small clearing behind the stadium.
Cassandra nodded. "Go ahead lay down like we talked, clothes off. You can leave your underwear on if you want," she instructed.
Adrian obeyed, and laid down in the grassy field with his arms and legs extended, so his body took the form of a pentagram. Cassandra took off her own robes and shoes, leaving on only her nightgown. She walked around her friend, carefully placing a rune on the ground at the end of each of his limbs, and over his head. She had carved the runes herself from the wood of a bloodwood tree, expecting the properties of the magic plant used as an ingredient in blood-replenishing potions to work harmoniously with the healing-focused symbols she'd chosen.
"Why do you need to have your robes off?" Adrian asked. "I thought I was the one being experimented on."
"Rune magic draws power from the earth, the air, everything around us. The caster serves as a conduit, drawing the magic from the runes, and with intent and the right words, gives it a purpose. Ideally I'd do this naked so the magic isn't dispersed through any materials touching my skin, but this is a school. And I don't wanna risk Filch seeing me naked."
"Filch seeing me naked, that's my boggart, called it," Adrian said, and they chuckled. "All right, can you at least cast a warming spell? It's freezing, and the grass is still bloody wet."
"No, that would interfere with the rune magic," she answered.
"Sometimes I hate being your friend," he replied. Cassandra ignored him. She'd agreed to do all his Herbology homework for the term in exchange for his participation in the ritual, and as far as she was concerned, they were square. If she could handle the cold, so could he.
Cassandra called out for Klaus, who'd been watching her from a nearby tree, and informed the bird of what she needed. The raven returned minutes later carrying a rabbit in its talons, which it deposited at his witch's feet. With a severing spell, she removed the head of the animal, and drained its blood in a bowl she'd transfigured from a stone. She walked in another circle around Adrian, dipping her fingers in rabbit blood and painting each rune with it. She kneeled down by Adrian's side, and drew a rune on his forehead in blood. She felt him shivering.
"Do you feel it?" She asked quietly.
"I feel… something," He answered. "Like my skin is buzzing. Is it the magic?"
"Yes," Cassandra said. "It's waiting to be directed."
She placed the bowl of blood down, and checked the time. "It's 06:03. If we're going to do it, it needs to be now. It's going to hurt, but hopefully not for very long. May I?"
They looked at each other, and Adrian nodded.
Cassandra took a deep breath, then lifted her wand, pointing it at his body. "Diffindo."
Adrian cried out as a long, deep gash opened along his chest. He closed his eyes to avoid seeing the blood he felt pouring out of the wound. After a moment, Cassandra started chanting softly. Her hands were hovering above her friend's torso, and she concentrated to channel the magic she could feel emanating from the runes. She closed her eyes and visualized Adrian's flesh knitting itself closed, willing the magic to perform the task. After a few minutes, she felt a wave of what she could only describe as satisfaction coming from the runes, as if the magic was happy to have fulfilled a purpose. She opened her eyes to check her work, but instead of an empty field, in front of her she saw a girl, seemingly frozen in shock. When their gazes locked, the girl let out a blood-curdling scream.
Hours later, Cassandra found herself in the headmaster's office, facing Professor Dumbledore with Adrian and Professor Snape by her side, while the screaming girl, who she now knew was a Ravenclaw Prefect called Penelope Clearwater, stood with Professor Flitwick, her own Head of House.
"Sit down, everyone, please," Dumbledore said. They all did. The headmaster looked at them serenely. "Now, I've heard the story from Miss Clearwater's perspective, as well as from Miss Lestrange's and Mr. Pucey's. From the materials collected from the site, I believe I have a fairly clear understanding of the events. Miss Lestrange, you were performing what I believe to be a healing ritual utilizing rune magic, correct?"
"Yes, sir," Cassandra said.
"Which you, Mr. Pucey, volunteered to participate in, having been made aware of all the steps involved in it beforehand?" Dumbledore continued.
"Yes, sir," Adrian answered.
"And how do you feel, Mr. Pucey? I know Madam Pomfrey looked you over, but are you feeling well?" The headmaster asked.
"Yes, sir," Adrian said. "I feel brilliant. Like I took a double dose of Pepper-up."
"Yes," Dumbledore smiled, "I believe that is the work of Miss Lestrange. Are you particularly interested in healing magic, my dear?"
Cassandra had to stop her eyes from narrowing at the term of endearment coming from a man she was speaking to directly for the first time in her life. "I'm mostly interested in rune magic, sir," she answered. "I understand the use of runes fell out of fashion a long time ago, but some of us still observe the old ways. Professor Babbling assigned an essay on possible uses for the Poetic Edda runes, and I theorized I could incorporate the life-runes in a generic healing ritual by carving them in bloodwood, then having the magic transfer the injuries from the patient to a dead animal. Adrian volunteered to let me test the ritual on him, so I did. And it worked."
"So it did," the headmaster said. "Unfortunately, Miss Clearwater came upon you during her morning run, and not being familiar with this particular branch of magic, was frightened by what I imagine must've been a shocking sight. Is that correct, Miss Clearwater?"
"Ye- yes, sir," The girl answered. "There was blood everywhere, and this rabbit was all... There was a rabbit on the ground without a head, split open. And I couldn't tell if Pucey was alive, there was so much blood."
"Madam Pomfrey said the boy was perfectly fine when he was brought to her," Professor Snape said harshly "If Miss Clearwater hadn't fallen in hysterics, she would've been able to see that for herself. Instead she ran into the Great Hall screaming that one of my students had murdered a boy."
"You can hardly fault the girl, Severus!" Professor Flitwick exclaimed. "That type of magic…"
"Healing magic?" Snape interrupted.
"There was a torn up rabbit," Penelope insisted. "You don't kill an animal…"
This time, it was Cassandra who interrupted her. "Please! Have you stepped a foot into a Potions classroom since you entered this school? Because if you have, you might have noticed we use ingredients harvested from animals all the time. Bat wings, dragon livers, rat spleens, you name it. Where do you think those come from?"
"Miss Lestrange," Professor Flitwick started, but again, was cut off by the Potions Master.
"Miss Lestrange is correct," Snape said. "Students are instructed to purchase pre-prepared ingredients for their lessons because it would be impractical and time-consuming for them to harvest the items themselves, but if you think no animals have been harmed for the benefit of your magical education, Miss Clearwater, then you're a fool."
"Severus, that's enough," Professor Dumbledore said calmly. "Miss Clearwater reacted the only way she could with the knowledge she had at the time. And even if Miss Lestrange's conduct in procuring the ingredients used on her ritual was above-board, I can hardly condone students experimenting on each other without supervision. The next time you have a hypothesis you want to test out, Miss Lestrange, I insist you talk to a teacher beforehand, so you can do it under proper supervision. The ritual you performed today was a truly impressive and creative display of magic for someone your age, but Mr. Pucey could've been seriously hurt if something had gone differently. But as I see it, no harm befell upon anyone today, and since all misunderstandings have been cleared, I see no reason for anyone to be punished."
But despite the headmaster's lack of punishment, the harm to Cassandra's reputation had already been done. Because of Penelope Clearwater's declaration in the Great Hall during breakfast, all the upper years could talk about was the supposed dark ritual the Lestrange girl had been caught performing by a Prefect. From human sacrifice to necromancy, several theories as to exactly what kind of vile dark magic she was steeping in were shared throughout the castle. Whatever goodwill her behavior in her previous years had earned her previously immediately vanished. As far as the Hogwarts student body was concerned, Cassandra Lestrange was her parents' daughter, and would one day end up in the same place as them. When a troll was found in the dungeons by a teacher during the Halloween feast, it was to her that other students' accusatory stares were directed.
"What would I need a bloody troll for?" She'd muttered to Adrian then. "Flint is already right over there."
Cassandra reacted to her shunning as she'd been taught by her grandfather and tutors all through her childhood - with patrician grace and cold detachment. She wouldn't beg for anybody's approval, she didn't need it. If they wanted to fear her, so be it. At least people tended to respect the things they're afraid of.
Weeks later, Fred Weasley approached her as she did her daily meditation exercises, on a spot at the top of the Astronomy tower.
"There's my favorite necromancer," he said, sitting on the ground by her side in the gangly, haphazard way teenage boys often moved.
"What do you want?" She asked without opening her eyes. Most of the occlumency exercises she'd been instructed to practice consisted of working to clear her mind of superficial thoughts, then creating a detailed sensory barrier to shield the deeper layers of her mind. Her own barrier was a deep, dark, stormy ocean. She focused on vividly picturing the shocking feeling of freezing cold water touching skin, the smell of salt and pungent zing of ozone that comes with sea storms, the frightening and impossibly loud noises made by thunder and violent rushing waves, the darkness of a starless night sky, filled only with heavy clouds. The deeper a legilimens tried to delve into her mind, the deeper and deeper they would swim towards the endless bottom of dark, frigid ocean waters. When her instructor had last tried to invade her mind during her summer lessons, he had declared the experience overwhelmingly unpleasant. Most people just pictured a wall. She hated being interrupted when doing this, which is why she chose the secluded spot she was at to practice. "How did you even find me?"
"Just because we're friends now doesn't mean you get to know all my secrets, Cassie," Fred said.
"Don't call me Cassie," she said, finally opening her eyes. "So, what do you want?"
"Maybe I just want to know how you're doing," he said, exaggeratedly defensive. "Or maybe I want to catch you performing some scary dark magic. Kill anyone for their blood lately?"
Despite herself, Cassandra snorted. "Not today, but it is only five pm. I still have time."
Fred grinned. "So, how are you doing?"
"Fine," she answered.
"You wanna elaborate on that?" The redhead asked.
"Not particularly," Cassandra said.
"Fine," Fred huffed. "Don't complain I didn't try to talk to you later, woman!"
"I won't," she replied easily. "Is this really what you interrupted me for? I'm busy here."
"You were sitting motionless with your eyes closed. I watched you for like five minutes," he said. "I thought you might be taking a nap, but who naps sitting up straight?"
"I was planning out the ways I'm going to eliminate all the muggleborns in this school," Cassandra said casually.
"Really?" Fred asked.
"No, but that's what they say of me anyways, isn't it? Dark witch Cassandra, just like her dark parents. Maybe I should give them a real reason to think that." She answered in the same casual tone.
"Look," Fred said sheepishly, "that's kind of what I'm here about. Penelope Clearwater, the girl who-"
"Screamed to the entire Great Hall that I'd murdered my best friend? I know who she is," Cassandra ended.
"Yeah, that one. She's friends with my brother Percy and she, uh, she wants to apologise to you," Fred said.
"Why now? It's been over a month," she asked.
"Well yeah. The thing is, apparently she can't get out of the castle without being followed by a bunch of ravens? They haven't attacked her or anything but they keep, and I quote, following her and croaking at her ominously. And she thinks you may have something to do with that, because of, you know, because of Klaus," Fred said.
"So let me get this straight," Cassandra said, to witch Fred flinched. "The girl who single-handedly managed to turn every single student in this school back against me after I worked for years to try and dispel the prejudiced notions they had against me because of my parents wants to apologise to me, not because she feels regretful, but because she can't stand being hated by a few corvids?"
"Yes?" Fred tried. "Look, she's a muggleborn. The whole rabbit thing really freaked her out. They're not used to that kind of stuff."
"You know, this is why purebloods hate them," Cassandra said. When Fred looked confused, she elaborated. "Muggleborns. Do you know why rune magic and the type of ritual I was performing stopped being widely used by wizards in Britain? Because uneducated muggleborns like her couldn't help but bring their silly made up judeo-christian notions into our world, and saw any magic that didn't involve wand waving as dark. Just because an animal is used in a ritual, suddenly it's dark magic? That rabbit felt no pain. Klaus brought it to me alive and I severed its head with a spell. It took a fraction of a second for it to die, which is likely a much quicker death than it would have found in the wild. I performed effective healing magic, the kind most wizards wouldn't be able to unless they were Healer apprentices, as a third year. And it's not some impossible feat of magic either, with the proper instruction I figure a lot of wizards our age would be able to do it. But most wizards don't have that knowledge, because of people like your brother's friend."
"Look, I get it," Fred said. "I get you're frustrated. But there are potions for that kind of stuff now. Spells and-"
"What if you're stuck somewhere without access to a potion?" Cassandra asked. "With no Healer around? And George is hurt and bleeding out. What do you do? Healing spells are very advanced magic. We don't learn them at school."
"I don't know. I could apparate us away?" Fred said.
"Side-along apparating an injured person almost always results in deadly splinching. Only very powerful wizards can do it without causing further harm. You know what you'd do? You'd probably sit there and cry as you watched your brother die." Cassandra said matter-of-factly.
"Hey!" Fred protested.
"It's the truth, Weasley. You would, because you do not have the knowledge to be able to save someone in that situation. Because that knowledge simply isn't accessible anymore. I mean, people study Ancient Runes as a relic from another time, oblivious to the fact that they can still be used as the foundation of incredible rituals. I doubt even Professor Babbling practices much of it, even though she teaches the bloody subject. Rune magic is the most ancient, most powerful form of magic there is, that almost no one uses anymore. But I do. I do because I chose to explore the knowledge that has been passed down through generations by my family, because we didn't bow to the whims of muggleborns."
"Your family also believed in killing those muggleborns," Fred said.
"Whatever," Cassandra said sullenly. "You can tell Clearwater I have no intention of killing her, but I won't accept her self-serving apology."
"Why not?" Fred asked.
"What do I gain by accepting it?" Cassandra asked. "I'll know she doesn't mean it, and is only doing it because she's spooked by a few birds - which, by the way, is Klaus' doing, not mine. The only person who'll benefit from it is her. She'll get to clear her conscience while still believing she's in the right. I hope those birds shit on her head."
Fred sighed, and then chuckled. "You're a piece of work Cassie, you know that? But somehow I still like you."
"It's the boobs," Cassandra answered.
"And I haven't even gotten to see them yet," Fred said, and laughed when the witch flipped him off.