In no time at all, Cassandra Lestrange and Viktor Krum's tutoring sessions had become a spectator sport. Headmaster Karkaroff and Mr. Krum, who besides being Durmstrang's flying instructor and Quidditch referee, had turned out to be the unpleasant wizard who led the early morning exercises, had plenty bad to say about it, but Ivanovich had been unswayable—if Vikor wanted to be excused from most of his classes to train with the Bulgarian National Team, he would have to endure Cassandra's tender mercies.
He did so very unhappily, which in turn, filled the young witch with mirth.
Most thrilled of all were the students who gathered in front of the castle every Sunday morning to watch their very own Quidditch star face off against the British heiress who'd so quickly and thoroughly ingratiated herself with the school's most powerful trio of witches. Cassandra's training drills alternated between wildly dangerous and incredibly annoying. It was just as likely she'd have Viktor be chased by dangerous creatures across the grounds as it was for him to spend the whole morning repeating the same spell sequences hundreds of times or trying to dodge Stinging Hexes while blindfolded.
Five weeks in, Viktor had apparently had enough.
"Duel me, then!" he said, his face dark with anger. Cassandra had been berating him for not being able to make his way through the obstacle course she'd put together in the middle of the Training Grounds and retrieve his wand before the magical timer she'd set out ran out.
Cassandra laughed. "Why would I do that? You can't even beat the clock, what makes you think you can beat me?"
"What makes you think I can't?" Viktor said, clenching his jaw.
"How about everything you just did?"
He took a step forward, his hands coiling into fists "You know what I think, Lestrange? I think you enjoy your little cruelties because you're empty. You're an empty person, and putting others down is the only way you have to feel good about yourself. Because you have nothing. You're hollow inside. You and your little friends."
Cassandra stood still, her smile having long fallen from her face. All around them, students waited for her response with bated breath. Unexpectedly, absurdly, she felt shame blooming inside her, and ground it down into nothingness. It was not the first time in her life she had been cut down to size, and it would not be the last. Perhaps she even deserved this—a better person would've sought Viktor out after their initial rift and tried to understand his antagonism for her new friends, but she'd been happy enough to turn her back on him and make him pay for his insolence during their sessions.
Unfortunately for him, she had given up on any pretence of being a good person, and she would not be made a fool of.
"If it's a duel you want, Viktor, then a duel you shall have," she said mildly. With a large sweep of her wand, she Vanished the obstacles in the grounds, leaving behind only flat, short-cut grass.
She put her wand to her throat, amplifying her voice. "I want at least 50 feet of distance from all of you!" she said to the crowd, who started to step back. "Considering you're not supposed to be here in the first place, if you're hit by a stray spell, that will be your problem."
"Would you prefer to go by tournament rules—whoever gets five hits in first wins—or until first blood?" she calmly asked Vikor, undoing the buttons of her jacket. It would be best to have her movements unrestricted for this.
He blinked at her, suddenly wrong-footed. Cassandra raised an eyebrow. "Until someone yields," he asserted.
"Fine by me." She slipped her jacket off her shoulders and tossed it aside. Klaus caught it and flew off in Tove's direction. The blonde witch, who'd been watching them while cozying up to a nice-looking seventh year, was smiling in excitement. ' End him,' Tove mouthed at her, finishing with a wink.
In silent consonance, Cassandra and Viktor turned to face each other and bowed, then they raised their wands like swords in front of them.
"Someone give us a countdown!" she yelled. She bent her knees slightly and rocked her weight back and forth to test her balance.
"THREE, TWO, ONE—"
Both of them swung their wands above their heads and pointed them at their opponent; Viktor cried: "Stupefy!", but Cassandra had already spun out of the spell's trajectory and sent a Bludgeoning Hex that caught the boy on the side of the head. Viktor staggered, blood dripping out of his right nostril, and slashed the air with a whip that extended from the tip of his wand. Forgoing a shield, Cassandra cut the whip in half before it could reach her; the long and coiling rope of leather fell uselessly to the ground.
Moving quickly, she dodged what looked like a Conjunctivitis Curse and hit Viktor with a Knockback Jinx that blasted him off his feet and slammed him into the ground. Not giving him time to recover, she seized and pulled him with a spell that sent him flying in a perfect arch to the other side of the training yard, slamming him on the ground once again. He tried to get up, but his legs buckled under him.
"YIELD!" she screamed.
"NO!" Viktor screamed back, bringing himself up to one knee. His left shoulder seemed to be dislocated, but he didn't hesitate to send a volley of spells in her direction. They hit Cassandra's shield like battering rams—what Viktor lacked in finesse, he made up for in brute strength.
Not wanting to stay on the defensive, she ran forward and let her shield fall as she skidded to her knees; while lightning bolts flew harmlessly above her head, she blew up the ground beneath his feet with a well-aimed Blasting Curse, sending him flying into the air once again. Thin cords shot from her wand this time, and when Viktor hit the ground, he did so bound from his shoulders to his knees.
Cassandra walked up to the wizard and, with her foot, turned him on his back so he could look at her when she spoke. She was breathing hard, her dark hair was a wild mane, and her blood pumped as hot as fire in her veins. "Yield."
Viktor was panting, his face was a mess of blood and dirt, but he still managed to give her a defiant look as he wriggled uselessly at her feet. " Maĭnata ti, " he spat at her.
Cassandra shook her head making a disapproving tsk-tsk-tsk sound. "I don't speak Bulgarian, but I'm guessing that doesn't mean 'I yield'. Ossio Praefringo!"
Viktor screamed as the bone in his right leg snapped.
"I SAID YIELD!"
"I YIELD!" he cried out. "I yield."
"Get away from my son!" Mr. Krum bellowed, his voice filled with outrage.
Cassandra spun around in surprise, taking a few steps back from Viktor. She had already released the ropes around him.
"Good showing, both of you," Ivanovich said by the man's side. Karkaroff was standing behind them, looking as though he'd seen a ghost. "Rauscher, Vester, get Krum on his feet. Madam De Wit has some healing to do." He turned to the students gathered by the edges of the Training Grounds. "The rest of you, scram!"
"It's alright, dad," Viktor muttered, low enough not to be overheard by the departing crowd. He was limping in his father's direction, assisted by two boys. "I was the one who challenged her."
Mr. Krum didn't even look at his son. He strode toward her, crisp red robes whispering faintly as he moved. He was a compact wizard of fifty years or so, weathered and hard. "How dare you."
Cassandra allowed herself a moment to calm down before she answered him. "I dare in many varied and creative ways, but as your son just told you, he was the one who challenged me to a duel. I even let him set the terms—I would've been happy with first blood."
"He has a game in six days," Mr. Krum said sharply. "Do you have any idea what it will do to his career if he isn't able to perform?"
"It's a couple of broken bones. He'll be fine by dinner."
"Dad, I said I'm alright."
"I'm not speaking to you, Viktor. I will deal with your irresponsibility later."
Cassandra looked between father and son. Viktor had a slight tinge of pink to his ears, and was staring very hard at the ground.
"The boy said he's fine, Iordan. I told you she was more than capable of teaching him, let this be the proof," Ivanovich said.
"You call that teaching?" Mr. Krum asked.
"Yes. It's nothing less than what I've done to her." Ivanovich answered, his tone leaving no room for arguments. "Don't make their quarrels your quarrels, Iordan, or I'll be forced to make them my quarrels as well. You won't like that. Take your son to the Infirmary, I can tell by his wheezing that his ribs want looking after."
"Come on, my friend," Karkaroff said, leading Mr. Krum away by his shoulder. "Boris is right, we should make sure our dear Matron gets her healing hands on Viktor as soon as possible. I'm certain he'll make a full recovery in no time."
Ivanovich and her exchanged glances as the others left. She waited for her guardian to speak, uncertain as to whether he'd take the pride of her victory away from her or not.
"Your wand movements could've been tighter," was the only thing he said before walking away.
Hours later, Cassandra, Fidele, Galena, and Tove walked along a path a few miles south of the castle. Moonlight glimmered on their faces, their hair, on the grey mist that hung like a haze over the boughs of trees. Insects buzzed, leaves rustled, and birds twittered around the four witches. The forest was alive.
Fidele, who was walking in front, turned around with a smile, her white teeth flashing bright on her mischievous face. "I can't believe I missed it. I heard it from Zetkin, who heard it from Forsberg, who was in the Infirmary getting a potion for his disgusting warts when they brought in Krum, that he had three broken ribs, on top of the leg you snapped and the dislocated shoulder."
Tove chortled. "He was asking for it."
"I wish things didn't have to be this way," Galena sighed.
"Do they?" Cassandra asked her. "Do they have to be this way?"
"For now," Galena replied soberly, the mysterious certainty in her voice making the hairs on Cassandra's arms stand up.
They soon arrived in a meadow thickly besprinkled with autumn flowers. The four friends set their bags down in the tall grass and started disrobing. The evening wind was cold enough to bite, but they would have to endure it.
Cassandra noticed Galena watching Fidele, who seemed the most discomfited by their nakedness. "If you want to do them properly, you have to be naked for rites," she offered Fidele, who gave her a tight-lipped smile in return.
"We haven't really dabbled in ritual magic before," Tove said, sitting on her knees. All of them assumed a similar position, facing one another. "We've done some stuff to help Gali along with her visions, but nothing too elaborate."
"Well, if Fidele's mother hadn't hid her away in France, she would've grown up performing the old rituals with the Rosiers. There aren't many true ritualists still around in Britain, but most of the old families still try to perform at least two of the eight traditional ones, following the Wheel of the Year," Cassandra told them.
"Yet another thing I've missed, thanks to my mother's cowardice," Fidele muttered, low under her breath.
Tove nudged the other girl. "I've never done any of this either. We'll pop our ritual cherries together," she said, and winked.
Galena was smiling fondly at them. "It's better that we're doing this now that you're here, isn't it, Cass?"
"It is. Four is a very magically harmonious number, very conducive to rituals. There are four phases of the moon, four seasons, four elements, four cardinal directions, four winds…"
"And four of us," Fidele said, taking Tove's and Cassandra's hand in hers. Cassandra and Tove grasped Galena's hands, closing the circle. "After tonight, we'll be a true witches' coven, bound together in magic, faith and understanding."
Cassandra faltered, but only for a moment. A coven would share the good, the bad, and the in-between, and its members would always stand in support of each other. It was daunting to make such vows, but she wanted to trust these girls, to do magic with them. That was her feeling about everything. There should be more magic. Both sides of her family had spent centuries championing the superiority of pure magical blood, but what was the point of taking pride in the blood running through her veins if she didn't use every opportunity to test the limits of her magic, to use it to its full possible extent? If it meant honing her skills and becoming a better witch, then yes, she would join a coven.
"Gal, do you have the ingredients?" Fidele asked once they all let go of each other's hands.
Galena removed a faceted crystal bottle, a bundle of herbs and a ceramic bowl from the soft purple cloth bag she had brought with her, handing them to Tove. Silently and with practised efficiency, Tove poured the liquid into the bowl, and proceeded to add in the mixture of herbs. With a tap of her wand to the side of the bowl, the potion heated up, and a pleasant smell wafted through the meadow.
"Make sure it's not too hot," Fidele said.
Tove frowned in disapproval. "Kindly butt out of my brewing."
As weeks of classes had progressed, Cassandra had realised that the blonde witch, the most laid-back of her new friends, had a great talent for Potions. The quality of her work was consistently impressive, even to someone who'd been taught enough by Cygnus Black III, a renowned Potions Master, to not be impressed by just anyone who knew their way around a cauldron.
"The lavender smells nice," Galena said.
"It goes well with the essence of daffodil," Tove agreed. "It's done."
Cassandra gingerly deposited a golden goblet and a small silver knife in the middle of their circle. Not wanting to leave anything to chance, she had inscribed the ceremonial runes on the cup herself. She watched as Tove poured the pale-yellow potion into it, smiling with satisfaction when the runes started to glow.
"Tonight, we ask for a great boon. We humbly request that our coven be acknowledged and blessed, that nature accepts us and brings us closer to one another," Cassandra said, her voice low and respectful. "But in order to take, first we have to give." She pricked her finger with the silver blade, holding her hand over the goblet until a few drops of her blood fell into the liquid. She handed the knife to Fidele, who repeated her actions; Tove and Galena were next. As each of them added their blood to the potion, the runes etched into the ceremonial cup glowed brighter and brighter.
"Now, each of us must offer one truth about ourselves before drinking the Tethering Potion. The deeper and more personal these truths are, the stronger our bonds will be," Cassandra continued. In truth, this was the step that caused her the greatest reluctance. There was only one truth she knew would serve for this ritual, and it was one that had already brought a great deal of pain and suffering into her life.
The four girls looked at each other. Galena reached for the goblet first. "Considering how hard it is for all of you to keep secrets from me, I think it's only fair that I start. My truth is that… I hate my gift." She took a tremulous breath. "I'd never said that out loud before. I know that I should be grateful for it, and that my family is proud of me for being a Seer, but it's nothing but a prison. I've been promised in marriage to a man decades older than me because he's the only one who can keep me safe from the people who would take me and use me for their own ends. And I can't do anything about it, because I've Seen what'll happen if I rebel against the life my parents have planned for me—I'll die. Or my parents and Dorcas will. And I can't be the reason why my little sister, why my family is killed. My happiness isn't worth that. So I'll do as they say but I wish… I wish I didn't have this power. I wish I could be normal and marry someone brave and kind, who loved me and cherished me for who I am, not what I can do."
Galena sipped from the goblet, then handed it to Tove, who took a deep breath before she started speaking.
"Gali and Fi already know my truth, but they're the only ones. My father… he's a horrible man. He came from a very old Swedish pureblood family, as proud as they were poor. All he wanted his whole life was to be rich and respected, at any cost. My mother was a kind, naive girl from a half-blood family that became very rich after my grandfather invented the omniocular. My father decided she would be his golden goose; he seduced and married her as soon as she was out of school. After they married, her family started dying off one by one of a supposed blood malediction. She got very sick as well, but managed to hold on until I was six. An entire family wiped out in less than ten years by an hereditary sickness that had never manifested in their line before. Curious, isn't it? My father was always a tyrant, but after she passed he became absolutely unbearable. He would berate me and beat me for the slightest perceived offence, lock me in my room for days on end, starve me…"
"During our first year at school here, I was the meekest little mouse you can imagine. Afraid of everything and everyone, always scurrying about, trying my hardest not to draw any attention to myself, just like at home. Gali was the one who befriended me first, and Fi accepted me after a little while. Their friendship changed my life."
Fidele was rubbing comforting circles on Tove's knee, while Galena laid her head on her friend's shoulder. "At the end of our second year, right before the holidays, Gali had a vision. She saw my father poisoning me, just as he'd poisoned my mother and all of her family. He thought enough time had passed that my death wouldn't be suspicious. I tried to get help; I wrote an anonymous letter to the Ministry of Magic, telling them what he'd done and why, but I didn't even get a response. My father is a powerful, pureblood asshole, who'd made it a point to befriend every other powerful, pureblood asshole he came across, and as a result, he had plenty of friends in the Ministry. So I took matters into my own hands."
"You killed him?" Cassandra guessed, goosebumps springing up all over her bare arms.
"Killing him would've been too kind," Tove replied hatefully, "but I did poison him. Fidele helped me. Galena saved my life, but it was Fidele who helped me take control of it. We knew he wouldn't try anything while there was someone else in the house, so Fi convinced her mother to talk my father into letting her spend the first week of the holidays with us. I used the potions from his own stores, the ones he planned on using on me. Everyone thinks he's somehow been affected by the same curse that took my mother—they call him a healing mystery, since blood maledictions are only supposed to pass down within the same bloodline. There's no treatment that can help him; he'll live the rest of his life weak, unable to talk, to walk, to swallow or take a shit by himself, just like my mother was at the end. That's why people call me Pestilence. Everyone expects me to fall sick one day like the rest of my family, but I won't. I've made sure of it."
Tove gulped down her share of the Tethering Potion. Wiping the tears that had rolled down her cheeks, she passed the goblet to Fidele, who was biting her lip and looked as cheerless as Cassandra felt with the prospect of sharing her deepest secret.
"Right, I guess it's my turn. My truth is… Why is this so hard? Before I say anything, I need the three of you to promise you won't see me differently. I don't want anything to change between us because of this. Because I'm…"
"Spit it out, Fi! I just admitted to a crime that carries a life sentence, which by the way, you helped me commit. It can't be worse than that," Tove said flatly.
Galena held Fidele's hand between hers. "None of us will think any less of you. I promise."
"Fine. Right. You better not," Fidele said, letting out a harsh breath. "This is something that I've been keeping to myself for a while now. Since I figured it out, really. I'm… I don't really like wizards the way witches are supposed to. Frankly, I find the whole lot of them repulsive. I like witches. I like witches the way wizards are supposed to like us."
Tove's eyes went round, while Galena remained unfazed. Cassandra couldn't help it, she started laughing.
"What's wrong with you!" Fidele shrieked, shoving her.
Cassandra laughed even harder. "I'm sorry, I just thought you were going to say something horrible. You way oversold that."
"I did not!"
"You kinda did," Tove said.
Fidele looked gobsmacked. "You—I'm—"
Galena dissolved in giggles, sending Cassandra into another laughing fit.
"I can't believe you're laughing at me," Fidele grumbled, but she had a small smile on her face.
"Personally I think sapphism is very sophisticated," Galena said, gracious as ever.
"If Gali says so, then it must be true."
"Shut up, Tove. You girls really don't mind it?" Fidele asked.
"Of course not," Tove answered, rolling her eyes. "After what we've been through together, how could you think I would? And obviously Miss Oracle over here already knew."
Galena shrugged delicately.
Cassandra extended her hand to tuck a lock of brown hair behind Fidele's ear. "It doesn't matter to me. I swear."
"And what about the Rosiers?" Fidele said, frowning. "You've met them. Do you think they'll…"
"It's hardly something unheard of in polite society. Not many of us marry for love, and whether you carry out affairs with wizards or witches won't make a difference to your family, as long as you agree to marry a wizard they approve of."
"And if I don't?"
Cassandra heard the uncertainty in the challenge. She watched Fidele, who quickly looked down and away from her. "I have very little family left, Fi, and nearly none that I actually care to claim. We're already cousins by blood; what we're doing tonight makes us sisters by magic. When I said you could trust me, I meant it. If you decide to buck convention and marry a witch, or not marry at all, I'll support you in whatever way you need me to. I have enough money to sponsor a whole country of disinherited pureblood homosexuals, if need be. If they cast you out for this, well, it'll be their loss. Regardless, you'll still have me."
"Right, of course," Fidele said in a choked voice. "Thank you, Cee. You're—Thank you. I'd better drink this…"
In silence, she drank a gobletsful of the potion, then handed it to Cassandra. "Your turn."
For a moment, Cassandra was tempted to give them something—anything other than the truth about Trelawney's prophecy. She had so many secrets, it would be easy to pick one of them to offer her friends instead. I could talk about how I tried to destroy a piece of the Dark Lord's soul by consuming it, or how tempted I was to give into his seduction, when he revelled in all the most terrible parts of me.
The possibility was considered and promptly discarded. Rituals were guided by intention; if she intended to deceive, she wouldn't be able to form the coven bond.
Cassandra stared off into the distance, her face reflective. Her dark hair fluttered in the wind like something half alive. "About two years ago, a prophecy was made concerning me. According to it, there'll be a war sometime in my lifetime I'll be forced to fight. I'll lose my family—twice—and I'll kill a lot of people in retaliation. Then I'll die."
"How sure are you that the prophecy is real? There are a lot of phoney Seers…"
"I'm sure, Gal. My grandfather checked."
Cassandra could see the crease between Tove's pale brows, the sudden rigidness in Fidele's posture. Galena kept on. "It could still not come true. Prophecies are… People consider them controlling forces, but they're not."
"I know," Cassandra snapped. Her voice echoed, too loud in the moonlit forest. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, I just—Trust me that I've given this every thought. For two years, there's hardly been a moment when this bloody prophecy wasn't on my mind. I know you likely have some insight into the subject that I don't, Gal, but for now I'd rather finish with the ritual, okay? We can discuss it some other time."
"Of course. I'm sorry."
"You have nothing to apologise for."
Cassandra lifted the ceremonial goblet to her mouth and closed her eyes. "Ever since I heard the prophecy, I felt wrong. Like I was a serpent living in the false skin of a person I was just pretending to be. Like there was something coiled inside me, waiting to strike out. And I hated myself for it. Why would the world need someone like that? Another evil Lestrange, another crazy Black. Last year, I was ready to give my life to save someone I loved. But I didn't die. I made it here, where I finally feel like I belong. It's been a long road, but I finally found you three. Now we make four."
And she drained the goblet, a gentle feeling of warmth and acceptance settled over her skin, her heart, her bones. "Fidele, say it."
"Hail ye, wizards and witches! Hail to kinsmen and clan, to the ancestors who watch over us, and to those who may follow. Here before you kneels Fidele Rosier, daughter of Evan."
"Tove Skau, daughter of Gottfrida."
"Galena Tiresias, daughter of Manto."
"Cassandra Lestrange, daughter of Bellatrix."
"We seek to bond ourselves in a covenant. We know that the mysteries of magic are many. We can never hope to learn them all, but we can follow them on our journey through this life and the next. We vow to learn and grow and evolve every day. We vow to seek new knowledge, and attain it in direct proportion to our efforts. We vow to always stand in solidarity, to share our joys and our woes. Make us anew, guide us in this brand new journey as a part of our new spiritual family. Let us emerge from the womb of darkness, and welcome us as children of Magic. Make us one."
"Make us one."
"Make us one."
"Make us one."
*Maĭnata ti: Bulgarian for fuck you.
**Ossio Praefringo: Ossio being a derivation of the Latin "ossis", meaning "bone"; and praefrigo meaning "to break into pieces". My own incantation for a bone-breaking curse.
***The Wheel of the Year is a Neopagan term for the annual cycle of the Earth's seasons. It consists of eight festivals, spaced at approximately even intervals throughout the year. There are four solar festivals (Winter Solstice, Spring Equinox, Summer Solstice, Fall Equinox) and four seasonal festivals (celebrating or marking a significant seasonal change).
****There's only one mention of the existence of covens in the HP universe, and it's an advertisement in a 1995 edition of the Daily Prophet that appeared in the Order of the Phoenix movie, giving information on how to run a witches' coven. I took that tiny bit of validation and ran with it.
*****The ingredients we see being added to the Tethering Potion do carry some meaning. In the language of flowers, lavender represents serenity, virtue and devotion, while daffodils represent rebirth and new beginnings.
******In Greek mythology, Manto was the daughter of the prophet Tiresias and the mother of Mopsus, another famous seer. It made sense to me that the name would crop up again down the Tiresias line.
Hello, everyone! Work started back up again in January, so updates will be slower, but you can still expect them to come. You have no idea how excited I am to get to the meaty parts of this story, I love writing it so much. Prongsdeer, your review is my favorite one I've ever gotten. Feli, I'm incredibly honored to know you think so highly of me. And you got it right, the quartet is totally inspired by The Craft! I rewatched it a couple months after finishing part 2, and the theme of female friendship in the movie gave me the idea to explore that dynamic with Cassandra, who wasn't particularly close with any other witches up to that point. And to everyone else who left a review, thank you, thank you, thank you! Your love for this story makes me so happy. See you soon, b xx