February 15, 1976 - Hogwarts
Cassiopeia yawned, stretching lazily on her bed as she slowly awoke from her exhausted sleep. Her body has adjusted itself well to the routine of classes, and even on the weekend it was almost impossible not to wake up at an ungodly hour.
What time even was it?
With bleary eyes she groped around for her wand, and in the process found what seemed to be a spare bit of parchment lying on her bedside table. Frowning in tired confusion for a second, she unhurriedly drew it beneath her drapes, only for her mind to flare to life - her plans for drifting back off to sleep flying completely out the window.
Quickly lighting her wand, she shifted onto her stomach, propping herself up on her elbows. She ran her fingers over the crisp, folded parchment for a mere second, anticipation thrumming through her body, then took a deep breath and unfolded it, eyes hungrily roving over the carefully penned text.
Cassiopeia -
If you are reading this, I assume Lucius has proven himself to be a reliable messenger, and has delivered this correspondence to you securely. I will inform you, then, that your own letter was delivered safely as well, despite how completely addled your elf's mind seems to be.
Nevertheless, I am glad that due to your resourcefulness we will be able to communicate further - in spite of the unwelcome... attention that our communication has begun to attract. I had hoped you would have been more circumspect.
Still, I must admit, I am curious as to how your friend was able to recognise Dumbledore's intrusion upon his mind. Perceiving a Legilimens' attack can be difficult, even for those skilled in Occlumency. Has he been trained in the art? Regardless, I would not recommend its study to most - it is much easier than one can imagine to lose control: to become shut off from your memories, and left almost unrecognisable from one touched by the Dementor's Kiss. I must admit, losing a mind such as yours would be - unfortunate.
Nonetheless, there are other obscure arts whose pursuit I do encourage, as you well know, and I am unopposed to your friend joining in their study as well, if he feels so inclined. In your letter, you inquired into the rituals which my followers and I will be performing these coming months; at this point, I am certain only of one.
On Ostara, the Spring Equinox, I will attempt to grow my power, and harness the magical inclinations of those attuned to the natural world. The following ritual is a modified version, as the original is complex, and necessitates acquiring ingredients whose attainment can prove a rather… daunting task, for some. Nevertheless, those who manage to provide shall be greatly rewarded; it is a pity that you cannot be there to see such an event take place. However, if you can manage to get away, I believe you could perform the attached variant with your friend, or with one of your more… traditionally-inclined elder Housemates. I should hope a task as simple as that would not be beyond your capability.
– Quartz crystals (at least twenty-five, uncoloured)
– Re'em blood (thirty millilitres)
– Fresh flowers (red, yellow)
– Willow wood
– Fresh human blood (around five hundred millilitres)
The crystals and flowers you will need to arrange in a large circle in an open plain, and build a small bonfire of willow wood in their exact centre. Afterwards, sprinkle re'em blood onto the wood, and carefully light the fire, making certain never to step foot outside the circle. If your bonfire has been made small enough, you will not be burnt, and may perform the final steps of the ritual, first by making an incision into the palm of the chosen participant. When it begins to bleed, make certain that every drop falls onto the components of the circle, and is not wasted on the grass on either side. Once every item has been fed with the sacrifice, place your hand overtop of the flames, and magic shall heal the wound. Lastly, until the last ember dies out, keep your intention in the centre of your mind. Speaking your desires is not necessary for this ritual, but if you feel you will be unable to focus on them without this act, you may do so in a slow, chanting manner.
If the giving of human blood scares you, I will remind you that it is only ever by unfortunate accident that the sacrifices of Ostara rituals die. There is no need to be overdramatic with the amount of blood used - though I am certain should you speak with Bella, she would advise you otherwise.
Lastly, here is some additional reading that I would recommend. If you are unable to locate these, I would advise going to your Defence teacher, as they may be able to procure at least some. First, however, you should ascertain if they are likely to report such an occurrence to Dumbledore. If they are, do not make the attempt. The last thing I desire is for his curiosity to be aroused any further towards you.
Ostara: Growth and New Beginnings, Celebrating the Equinoxes, Rituals of Sacrifice
For now, I would advise you to stay unnoticed, and to make certain never to meet the Headmaster's eyes, unless it is unavoidable. Only by keeping him from ever accessing your mind can your secrets be preserved.
I will not be pleased if, through either of you, he learns more than he should. I await your response.
- Valens Gaunt
Cassiopeia tilted her head thoughtfully as she finished reading, replacing the vellum where she found it and emerging from her bed to begin the day. A glance towards the other side of the room confirmed that Rory was still asleep, and she didn't bother to leave the room as she stripped off her shift and donned a light, flowy robe.
The Dark Lord was enigmatic as always, she thought while making her bed, though she felt she could sense the slightest glimmer of care in his words. It wasn't much, but his warning, and his patience with explaining what must seem to him as basic knowledge, struck her as oddly indulgent and concerned, and the very thought of it filled her with warmth.
Still, though, she couldn't shake her caution, a characteristic which had been instilled in her for years. That being so, even as her mind turned to how she would respond, the notion remained, deep inside her head.
Severus emerged from a meeting of the Duelling Club, a tired, but accomplished grin overtaking his face. His muscles shook with adrenaline, but his heart soared at finally securing a concrete goal he'd had in mind: learning some of the spells which the older members of the group used.
He wandered into a nearby bathroom, knowing his face was flushed, and his hair dripping with sweat. He grimaced at his reflection in the mirror, but splashed some water onto his face, sighing at the cool relief that it brought. Conjuring a towel, he dried himself before allowing it to dissipate, and was just about to leave the room when he heard another entering through the door.
"Shafiq…?" he asked in confusion, though that train of thought was soon abandoned once he noticed the enraged expression on the other's face.
"Why didn't it work, Snape?" she asked. Her hands were held rigidly at her side, as though she were just stopping herself from wrapping them around his neck. "Why?"
Severus' eyes flicked to the door, wondering whether his actions had brought consequences much more dangerous than he'd thought they would. Nevertheless, he stood by his decision. "Shafiq - " he sighed, "- it's unethical. I had no idea what you wanted to do with it. I tried to ask, but you didn't respond."
"I didn't tell you, because it doesn't matter," she bit out, " - what's important is that you lied to me."
"I didn't agree to your request with that in mind," he responded, hoping to calm her. "It was only when I finished that I realised: I don't know you. Love potions are dangerous; I didn't want to facilitate - "
Something dangerous flashed across her face. "I'm not a fucking rapist, Snape."
"I didn't mean to imply you were."
"Is that so?" she asked mockingly. "Well Umbridge certainly did."
Severus frowned. From his interactions with the girl last year, she hadn't seemed the type. "She did? When?"
Shafiq laughed disbelievingly, leaning back against the bathroom wall. "You really don't hear? Gods, you're a pathetic Slytherin."
Severus opened his mouth to defend himself, but closed it when she began to speak again, her voice much quieter than before. "I don't know, specifically, on what day she outed me, but by last Thursday the whole school knew... what I am. They were speaking about 'my kind,' about how we're all paedophiles, and predators," she added, her tone bitter. "Does that not warrant revenge in your eyes? Or are you glad the secret got out?"
Severus ignored the question, and the implications of Shafiq's statement. "How do you even know it was her?"
"Nobody else knew," she answered flatly. "I came out to her in our fourth year, and she swore never to tell."
"Ah." Severus didn't know what else to say, his mind swirling with the revelations. "I just… didn't want you to do something you'd regret."
Shafiq's sharp gaze focused on him for several long seconds, before she exhaled harshly. "Give me back the money by tomorrow, and if you ever do something like that again, expect consequences."
"Very well," he agreed easily, relief beginning to flow through him. She gave him one last wary glance in response, before vanishing like smoke.
It was only when she disappeared that he noticed his heart hammering against his chest, and the paleness of his skin in the mirror. He'd gotten complacent, he realised. Black had laid low since his disinheritance, and direct confrontation with his peers had become rare, instead of commonplace.
Frowning at his carelessness, he left the bathroom, making his way towards the library. He'd promised to meet Cassiopeia, and to a lesser extent Remus, for an afternoon study session.
The halls were almost deserted at this time, and he passed no-one as he made his way up several long flights of stairs. Most of Hogwarts' residents had departed to Hogsmeade, he gathered. Cassiopeia, Remus, and he had mostly stopped going - disposable income being somewhat lacking in all of them.
"Snivellus!"
Speak of the devil, he thought with a sigh. The very voice he'd wanted to hear most.
Severus had half a mind to turn the other cheek, to continue on his way, but when a spell struck him from the side, throwing him face-first against a wall, such an option quickly became unavailable.
Fuck, he swore, hearing a bone crack at the impact. He hissed at the wave of pain, and felt nausea rise within him as blood began to pour profusely from his nose. Clutching at it, he turned to his attacker, whose image was distorted through the tears which had welled instinctively in his eyes.
"What the hell was that for?" he spat, drawing his wand quickly with his other hand. He blinked the tears away, only to make out Black's condescending sneer.
"Can I not hex slimy Slytherins just for fun?" he responded with a smile, and blocked the snarled spell sent his way. His eyes scanned Severus' body, and his expression darkened as he registered the fine cut of his duelling robes. "What are you wearing those for? Another one of Slughorn's little events?" he asked derisively.
Despite the almost overwhelming pain of his broken nose, Severus couldn't help but smile at the envious display. "Jealous, Black?" he mocked. "Can't live without being the centre of attention?"
The Gryffindor snarled, his hex veering wildly off-path as his hands shook with rage. Severus smirked, taking the moment to wipe some blood from his face.
"Confringo!"
This time, the spell didn't miss, managing to burn his fingertips before he managed to block it. The shock of the pain made him freeze, and Black took advantage of the moment without hesitation.
"Incarcerous!"
Severus buckled as his legs were bound, the ropes pressing with almost unimaginable weight against his skin. Sheer terror made his body run cold, and it was only in the moment that he was falling that he realised this would be his last opportunity.
"Protego Diabolica," he cried out, sinking to the floor. Dark, roaring flames sprung from his wand, forming a shield before him, and he heard Black scream as in seconds they began to engulf his robes.
Moments later they were extinguished, an outside force smothering them from existence. Glancing at Black, who seemed as shaken as he was, Severus allowed himself a moment to calm down, and disentangle himself from the ropes. As he stood, however, biting his tongue to suppress a cry of pain, he was met with an unwelcome sight: two older students standing at the edges of the scene, one with his wand trained on himself, the other on Black.
"What the hell was that?" one of them asked. His robes distinguished him as a Gryffindor prefect, and Severus felt his heart sink.
"I was defending myself," he replied, already knowing the futility of his response by the prefect's sneer.
"By almost killing another student?" came the expected, derisive reply. "Detention with Filch next weekend, and thirty points from Slytherin."
It was then that the other student spoke up, his face easily recognisable as one of the elder members of the Duelling Club. "Perhaps you could restore some of those points for, oh, I don't know, my help in putting out the flames?"
"I don't help the likes of you, Mulciber," the prefect scoffed, then turned to his Housemate. "C'mon Black."
As the two of them walked away, Severus all-but-fell back against the wall, the pain from his injuries leaving him light-headed, and nauseous.
"You shouldn't be using those types of spells here, Snape," Mulciber said, approaching. "It's only 'cause they're thick that you didn't get in trouble for that fire too."
The older Slytherin raised his brow as Severus didn't respond, too worried at what sound would come out of his mouth should he open it.
"Go to the Hospital Wing," he said, after observing him for a moment. "I'll tell Nazyalensky where you are."
Severus nodded weakly in gratitude, and Mulciber grunted in response, turning on his heel, and stalking from the hall.
•••
Thank you to everyone for reading, and to SilentMayhem, and Stephanie MRV for their help. I'll see you next Sunday, and I hope all of you have an amazing week.