Mr Spavin was beside himself with excitement as he went down to the main lobby to pick up his intern for the week. He was certain that this young witch was going to change the field of theoretical magic, and she had a bright future ahead of her. He just hoped he could convince her to choose his department to work her magic in, and was certainly going to try him damndest to grab her before she was snatched up by someone else.
She was young and still had much to learn, but he had never met someone with such a natural understanding of charms and spell work. He wondered, privately, if her heritage had anything to do with her knowledge. He had been a curse breaker for St Mungos during the last wizarding war, and he saw first hand the atrocities her parents committed. Rumour had it that the Lestranges treated their daughter much in the same way they treated their victims, with callous disregard. He made a mental note to keep her away from the long term residents, at least for this initial internship. Best not dredge up the past.
Whatever the reason, tragedy and horror or just plain natural talent, she was remarkable. Once she learned to reign in her own ambitions, she would be a force. Her independent study had been a wildly ambitious proposal and as predicted she was having difficulties unravelling all that she had hoped, but the drafts she had sent him were already enough for her to easily achieve an O in her NEWT examinations. He almost regretted offering his help to her during the research phase as it meant he had to recuse himself from her examination panel.
It was a necessary sacrifice, he knew that she would be sending out her applications for apprenticeships in a few weeks, and he wanted to make sure that her firm first choice would be the hospital. Offering her this internship, and more importantly access to a resource she was denied, was his way of showing her how much she could learn from St Mungos.
She was prompt, arriving a few minutes early for her first day, already a good sign. She looked nervous, out of place in her muggle clothes.
"Alright there Miss Tonks! Welcome to St Mungos Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, I am so pleased you accepted my invitation for this taster internship for this week. I know you are quite busy with your independent study and I am perhaps taking you away from your family, but I promise it will be an exciting and fun week.
Here is a set of robes for you and an identification badge, that will give you access to most areas and will identify you as one of our interns and not a patient or visiting family member. Right, I guess the first stop will be the staff changing rooms. Most people apparate or floo directly into the building, but a few of us like to spend time in the muggle world and come in via the underground."
He paused outside a door with a female figure drawn on it, "If you head on in there and get those robes on, you should find a locker with your name on it. Just tap your wand to it to register it, and then only you can open it. I'll wait here for you."
Once she was appropriately dressed, he led her to his office to start her induction. "Brilliant, welcome to my department, we are tucked away in the basement far away from any of the patients, dealing with research. The department is broken into three main fields, disease research, potions research, and rogue spell research with quite the range of topics, our staff is constantly starting new projects, it's a rather dynamic part of the hospital.
We have about a dozen staff members employed here full time all working on various projects with different specialisations. Our primary duty is provide support for the healers upstairs, whenever someone comes in with strange symptoms or injuries, it's our job to figure out what is wrong with them and find a way to fix. We also keep track of epidemics, issue general guidelines for the wizarding public, and test new magic and potions down here."
"So you don't work with patients primarily sir?" she asked curiously, peering into jars filled with pickled animals all exhibiting strange morphologies.
"Well it depends on the researcher. Some prefer to just stay down here and some work both upstairs and downstairs. For example, before I was the head of this department, I specialised in curse breaking, and depending on where the origin of the curse was, i.e. an object or a wand, my duty was to either work directly on the patient or on an object that contained the curse. That's why we are in the basement by the way, had more than a few mishaps with cursed objects and potions exploding. Best to keep that away from the ward."
He continued his tour, from the basement through the hospital wards, introducing her to various healers, trainees, and other apprentices working in the building. The tour lasted the morning and by lunchtime Cassiopeia was feeling both very hungry and overwhelmed by the enormity of the place and all the introductions she had made. It didn't help that Mr Spavin had barely paused the whole day, constantly filling her in on every detail of the place.
She was relieved when after lunch he deposited her in a quiet work room back in the basement.
"Now, because you haven't gone through the formal training yet, I cant put you on any of our current cases, but occasionally we have objects dropped off that are curios- things with low level curses and slight malevolence. These things aren't dangerous, but more annoying than anything. We keep them in here to await curse mapping and breaking, occasionally, if we have time, someone will come in an spend a day or two with these objects. We also have a wonderful library, plenty of workspace, and lots of bright minds to pick.
I thought this would be an ideal place for you to work, maybe do some research with our library for your independent study, tinker with the lightly cursed objects, and I have a time slot scheduled for you at the end of the week with the RF spectacles. Only twenty minutes mind, but it's better than nothing. Everyone working here is highly qualified and very curious, so I am sure they wouldn't mind you asking them questions if you are interested in anything, though they do have time sensitive work to do, so maybe only ask questions during their breaks.
I have to run to some admin meetings, but my office door is always open. We are a very relaxed office, and your main duty is to learn whatever you can while you're here."
And with a grin and a wink she was finally left alone in blessed silence.
Lionel Spavin took every opportunity to check in on his intern, sometimes for quick hellos and other times for a slightly longer tea break. Each time he saw her his admiration and astonishment grew. She spent the first two days working through their library, filling at least two notebooks with scribbled notations and runes, he was surprised to see her affinity not just with English runes but also French. He spotted a few language dictionaries beside her on the second day as she ploughed through books written in German and in Dutch.
The third day she moved onto the curios, he thought she would find them an interesting challenge and might even provide a good foundation for others to work on.
He kept them around as brain teasers for his trained staff, difficult enough to engage the mind, but not too difficult that it should take anyone with curse breaking training more than a few days. They were good things to work on when one's mind was consumed with another problem. Distraction pieces.
He didn't expect her to be successful in her tinkering. She was still in Hogwarts with no formal curse breaking training. Despite her reasonable grasp of theoretical charms it was a leap to connect the two without formal instruction, there was a reason all curse breakers had to undergo years of formal education, most second year interns wouldn't have been able to break one curse easily.
She had broken two of the curses by the end of wednesday and was back digging through the library, taking more notes on curse structures. He was gobsmacked, triple checking to make sure she had actually broken the curses fully. She did.
Thursday he asked her about her upcoming applications, almost unnerved by her ability to interrogate curses and spells. She had hesitated when he asked, thinking through her answer carefully. She initially was only going to apply to the curse breaking programme offered by the Goblins, but she was beginning to see the appeal of St Mungos.
"Not the Ministry programme?" She was already shaking her head before he could even finish. "You know my past sir, I think it's best for everyone that I have as little to do with law enforcement." she said darkly, scowling.
"That's not very fair, you would be a marvellous addition to the team. I think you should apply, it never hurts to put your name in the hat, and if it doesn't pan out, well I am sure a position here would be easy enough to come by."
"It is interesting the work you do Mr Spavin, and I admit I am torn between working here and at Gringotts, I find the fieldwork and breadth of magic im sure ill encounter rather appealing from the bank, but ultimately they are interested in treasures while you are here helping people. I respect that." It was something, a start, his mind already whirling in ways to get her to join onto his team.
"See how the interviews go, it might be possible for your practical apprenticeship to be done between two organisations. It's rare, but not unheard of." He'd have to get to the Goblins before they realised how prodigious she was, otherwise they'd never let her go. But he was a little relieved to hear he didn't have to compete with the ministry programme, they already sucked the best curse breakers away from the hospital and the bank.
Friday was the day she was finally going to get to use the RF spectacles. She had spent most of the previous day preparing the objects of her independent study and reading more into the use and history of the spectacles. Mr Spavin had given her one of the curios he kept for her to bring in the room, it was one that she had already broken, but he suggested she examine it with the RF spectacles just to be sure, hospital business and all.
The RF spectacles were a rare magical artefact found a few centuries previously by an anthropologist studying ancient magic deep on an island in the Indian Ocean. This island was home to a wizarding tribe who were previously unknown to the larger wizarding world and to the muggle world, they had lived in isolation for centuries, cloaking their island in heavy wards to scare away any passing sailors over the years. The magic they practiced had been wild, primal, and very ancient. They were closer to the magic, understanding it as a force of nature, with a connection unlike that of any modern witch or wizard. They lived in harmony with magic and attracted a whole host of magical creatures on their island, the creatures and wizards coexisting in a peaceful symbiosis for centuries, cultivating woods and herbs that provided homes for the magical creatures. It was on this island where they crafted crude spectacles, more like swimming goggles than anything out of local wood that was the finest wand quality wood money could buy to presumably craft their magic.
When the greater wizarding world found out about the island, it was unfortunately in the height of global colonisation and empire. Countries fought over possession of the island and the precious resources on it, the trees were felled to make wands for the gentry, the animals slaughtered and dissected for anatomical drawings and for potions ingredients, the lush gardens and herbs harvested to create potent tinctures, and the islanders imprisoned for being savage. The lone anthropologist had tried to save as much of their knowledge as possible, but inevitably they were either killed by greedy wizards invading their land, or modern diseases that eventually finished them off. Only a dozen or so spectacles survived the centuries, the knowledge of how to make them lost with the villagers who wrote nothing down, instead passing knowledge through oral histories.
The spectacles were genuine artefacts, closely guarded and highly valuable, by a few ministries around the world. She treated it with the sufficient respect they deserved, handling them carefully and thanking Mr Spavin profusely.
Lionel watched the student carefully place the spectacles on, handling them with the utmost care and reverence and was amused to see her face light up as she looked through them at the world. Looking through the spectacles was like looking at another world, they showed the hidden magic that hung in the air in clear blue etchings. It offered a perspective that was not possible with simple spell diagrams that she had been working with, because it showed the magic as it was in the real world. She stared at the wards on her research objects as they pulsed with life and energy, their form shifting subtlety and interacting with the magic in the environment. Diagrams offered a snapshot of a natural phenomena, preserving a single moment, but the spectacles showed the magic in 4D
She let herself marvel for a few minutes, before grabbing her pencil and attacking the notebook with an almost crazed fervour, trying to capture as much of the experience and her impressions as possible. He had only managed to grab her a short twenty minute time slot, the spectacles were in high demand and he had to call in a few favours for this slot.
Cassiopeia was enthralled, writing fervently, oscillating wildly between her mothers bracelet which glowed and pulsed with magic that went beyond the simple object as she had always suspected. There were thin magical tendrils emanating from the silver that were seeping into her skin, she ran her hand over the bracelet, her fingertips resting briefly against her wrist above her pulse confirming her suspicion. The bracelet was throbbing with life in time with her heart beat. She wrote as much as she could, copying symbols that flared to life and disappeared within seconds, moving her wrist around to examine it fully. Now that she was looking at the bracelet through the spectacles, she felt keenly connected to the spell, the magic caressing her, very different from her own, and yet very familiar.
It was a masterwork truly, elegant and beautiful, even she could appreciate that despite her overwhelming contempt for the object. Looking at it through the lenses she wondered for the first time if her mother had been entirely forthcoming on its purpose.
But that was a distraction, she had to work on her independent study, she could feel Mr Spavins eyes on her as he watched her work. He was a strange man who seemed overly keen to get her to work for him. She didn't really understand it, but he had arranged this specifically for her, an opportunity she certainly wasn't going to waste.
The wards she was studying for her project had looked nearly identical when she had pulled the spell diagrams, but under the gaze of the spectacles she saw there were subtle differences between each one. Their magic pulsed in different rhythms, the magic moved in different ways, and each one had its own personality almost. She wished she could study them for longer with the glasses, feeling that with enough time she would be able to pull not just the hints of the original spell caster but actually manage to find the fabled individual magical signatures.
She wasn't familiar with most of the magic displayed in front of her, not having spent time around any of her volunteer's magic long enough to know it. One of the warded objects stood out to her however, its familiarity as comforting as an old friend, it made her heart race and she couldn't write fast enough. With a impatient wave of her wand, she watched in fascination as the magic flowed from the tip and into her pen, sinking into it and animating it. She began dictating, speaking faster than she could write, detailing everything she was seeing, and pulling out her own magical signature and identifying at least one of the baubles.
Her time was up, she was breathless as she handed the spectacles to the next user, flicking her wand to gather all of her notes, still dictating as she walked out to her pen which was hovering in the air and scrawling madly across a page. Mr Spavin accompanied her, gently guiding her to the workspace he had set up for her, his ears open as he listened to her thought process as his own thoughts raced.
Her understanding and observations were equal to that of his more qualified and trained staff members, she spoke like someone with years of training when in reality she had nothing formal. Either Professor Flitwick was a better teacher than he had ever dreamt or she was the single most motivated and naturally gifted witch he had ever come across.
She was a bloody prodigy. A damned bloody prodigy.
Cassiopeia rode that high throughout the day, alternating between dictating information about her independent study and scrawling notes about her bracelet. She could feel it moving, pulsing against her skin, and she wondered if it was a psychosomatic feeling since she witnessed the movement of the magic, or if she was just aware now that she knew what to look for. It made her sick regardless, she felt its touch against her skin, a gentle caress, warm and tender, always present, always there, like a cold warning. The magic embodied everything her mother was.
Her week long internship ended with Mr Spavin taking her out for a work lunch, wishing to discuss once more her plans for her post Hogwarts career and suggesting for what seemed like the hundredth time that she shouldn't hesitate to contact him if she needed anything, references, advice, or if she had more questions about the programme offered by the hospital. She barely resisted rolling her eyes, his wish for her to work for him was almost obnoxiously transparent.
"As you know, I obviously want you to apply for my department, where you will be accepted in a heartbeat. And yet, I am conflicted. I genuinely want what's best for you. Miss Tonks, this week has been brilliant and has made me realise that you are totally unaware of just how talented you are.
You process information and make mental leaps comparable to someone with years of experience and formal training. Far beyond what I expect an even remarkable Hogwarts student should be capable of. You are already on the way to being a cracking curse breaker far ahead of your peers, i'd even wager you might be the youngest curse breaker to qualify in at least a generation. You have your pick of the programmes offered not just here in Britain, but abroad as well. Keep the hospital as a firm fallback, I think you would learn a lot in St Mungos, I can assure you we can tailor a programme to challenge you sufficiently, but I also think you might grow bored. Perhaps when you're fully qualified you would consider becoming a research fellow on call at the hospital, someone we can bring in for particularly challenging and exotic cases.
But I cannot in good conscience turn you away from applying with the auror office even the International Confederation of Wizards, possibly even InterAur. Their entrance is difficult, and you would have to work harder to convince a few bigots and old guard to let you in, but I think you could do a lot of good and most importantly, grow the most in those positions."
Cassiopeia's face was red from embarrassment from the naked praise and admiration the head of the research department was heaping on her. Sure, she had been studying for nearly seven years to get to where she was, but that didn't mean she was remarkable. It just meant she had no life and was mildly obsessive. The idea of working with the British aurors, or even the international auror organisation InterAur, made her feel ill.
They conducted extensive background and character checks for those positions, and she worried if someone dug too far into her past they would discover just how she conducted herself during the previous war. She had hurt people, she had killed people. She deserved to be in Azkaban, and every day she wasn't was a magical blessing. She couldn't open herself up to that level of scrutiny, she wouldn't sacrifice the opportunity she was given to try and make up for all the evil she had put in the world, she wanted to help people, and she couldn't do that from prison.
"Thank you sir, you are perhaps giving me far too much credit, but it is appreciated nonetheless. But I don't particularly want to make my life more difficult by calling attention to myself. I just want to get on with the job the best that I can."
He frowned at her, "at least apply. You can decide at your interview whether the prevailing attitude is too much for you to handle. But it would be a shame to not even try out of fear. There are plenty of people in the office who will overlook your family, enough to perhaps sway the decision in your favour. And if they reject you, well know that it has nothing to do with your ability, and know you will always find support both in my department and I suspect from the Goblins, albeit in a more roundabout way. I might even be able to work something out between the hospital and the bank to get you a varied education between our two institutions."
She flushed in indignation this time. This man had helped her sure, but he was overstepping his bounds. Who was he to tell her how to live her life, how to manage her unfortunately familial relations or what would be best for her. What did he know?
"I appreciate your support sir, and your help. But there is just too much history between me and the aurors, and I do not want to bring back old wounds."
He sighed and sat back, "Well at least think about it. If you feel so strongly against it I don't blame you. There is a lot of ego in that office," he scowled as he thought about it, "they look down on all of the other programmes, so imagine their disbelief if they were to accept you only for you to turn them down for what they see as a lesser programme. Would serve them right." He was smirking now, gazing off into the distance, presumably imagining the scenario.
Her indignation cooled as she took his meaning. The longer she spent with Mr Spavin the more curious she found him and the more he grew on her.
"Nevermind that for now, just know you have an ally in me, us Slytherins gotta stick together eh?" He gave her a wink before taking another bite of his sandwich.
Her eyebrows raised, looking at him with renewed fascination, she had always assumed he had been a Ravenclaw. "It wasn't a happy coincidence that you had the RF spectacles for the week of Easter holiday was it sir." she asked suspiciously, her lips quirking up in amusement.
He sat back in his chair and laughed, his eyes sparkling as looked over his new favourite student, "Of course not, there are no such things as happy coincidences." he grinned at her.
She returned his smile before tucking into her lunch, reevaluating his advice. Perhaps it would be satisfying to reject at least the British Auror organisation.
xxx
She genuinely thought the Professors at Hogwarts secretly hated all of their students. Her course load had been nearly unbearable before the break, but as she entered her final term it somehow reached new levels. She had cut her sleep back to a mere five hours, supplemented with power naps through the day and a probably unhealthy amount of caffeine.
She was also ashamed to admit she had considered going back to pepper up potions to help cope with her schedules, promising it would be a stop gap measure, just to make it the last few months. Professor Snape had caught her thought during one of his surprise legilimency attacks during his class, she had been so exhausted she hadn't even caught on to what he was doing until he was demanding she stay after class before verbally dressing her down for even the stray thought.
So she soldiered on without any magical help, barely able to fit in her occlumency lessons with Snape and the odd quick cup of tea with Professor Quirrell.
It was during one such occlumency lesson that Cassiopeia found herself struggling to fight off her Professor and stay awake. She grit her teeth, trying to fight the pull of her heavy eyelids and the fog of exhaustion clouding her mind. Not even Snape's yelling was enough to keep her alert, her body finally giving out.
He had broken in and was flicking through her surface memories roughly, driving home his point that it had been far too easy for him and perhaps trying to goad her into putting up some defense.
She was too tired to care. Let him see, there was nothing important on her mind, just work. So much work. She had been working on the final full draft of her independent study before she had come to his class, writing up her observations from the RF spectacles. She had committed as much of the experience to memory as possible, burning the symbols and magic into her mind, weaving it into the fabric of her consciousness.
It was that memory he paused on, slowing down and examining it curiously, his earlier maliciousness gone and inquisitiveness in its place.
She actually approved of his actions, when a legilimens examined her memories they pulled them forward with a new life, they were brighter, clearer, and more solid than they were in her own recollection. She watched the scene carefully, reliving the remarkable experience, picking up on details she had forgotten about. She was already mentally outlining new things for her to add to her independent study.
But Snape wasnt fascinated by her independent study. She realised it too late, his interest was held by something else in the memory. Something she would prefer he not see at all. She sat up, alert with the sudden rush of cold adrenaline, fighting to push the man out.
Sensing her alarm he doubled down, now suspicious, digging the tendrils of his magic deep into her mind, anchoring them both in this point, slowing it down, looking at it from every angle. He felt her fear, her wonder, and her unease from the memory, and she dimly felt his hands encircling her wrist in the classroom, pinning it to the table.
He examined the spell as seen through the spectacles, watched as tendrils of magic delved into her and pulsed with her heart beat, and when he finally pulled out of her mind he was examining the bracelet suspiciously, alternating between glaring at it and at her.
"Professor, you're hurting me," she winced as he squeezed her wrist tighter, pulling it close to his face to examine the innocuous bracelet.
"What. Is. This." he growled, tapping his wand gently against the silver, his gaze intent on the jewelry.
"It's a bloody bracelet Professor, surely you've seen one before." she growled trying to pull her arm back, alarmed by the look on his face. She had known he was a death eater and for the first time she believed it.
"Do not lie to me Lestrange." he hissed, still weaving magic around her wrist, immobilising it in the air so he could look at the bracelet fully without her fighting him.
"Professor, please whatever you're doing, just stop it." her eyes grew in alarm as she felt the bracelet become uncomfortably warm under the assault of his wand, the silver tightening painfully, biting into her skin.
He growled again when he saw the bracelet constrict, its edges cutting into her wrist and drawing blood, angrily releasing all of his spells abruptly, causing her wrist to fall to the desk heavily. She cradled it to her chest with a grimace, trying to soothe the wound and caressing the now boiling metal, willing it to relax, to become inanimate once more.
"Do you know what that is?" She had never seen him this angry, pacing back and forth in front of her desk.
"It's a present from her, it connects her to me, it lets her find me regardless of where I am in the world. It's my curse." she murmured, wincing in pain as the bracelet grew in size, the edges unsticking from the now open wounds on her wrist. "Can you grab me the dittany?" she sighed examining the damage.
The bracelet fell up her forearm just enough for her to get to the wounds it had left, and she dabbed it with the paste Snape had slammed on the desk in front of her before resuming his pacing.
"You think that's all it is? Something as simple as a tracking charm?" he scoffed, talking down to her as he slowed his pacing to look her in the eyes. She felt him at the edges of her mind, prying for information.
"Show me." he commanded, his mental push become more insistent.
"Why should I?" she doubled down on her barriers defensively, curling her wrist closer to her chest. He was scaring her. He was cold, his eyes calculating, and his demeanour demanding and controlling. He was an authority figure who wanted something from her and was being a troll about it, it was her knee jerk reaction to respond in kind with suspicion and rebellion. It was none of his business anyways, it was her own problem.
"If that is doing what I suspect it's doing, then it is in your best interest to show me the memory. I am trying to help you Cassiopeia." he lowered his voice and slowed down his words, attempting to calm her after noticing the fear and anxiety exuding out of her.
"I've analysed the spell Professor, i've been studying it for years. It's just a tracking charm, one with magic that protects itself against attacks. Harmless so long as she is in Azkaban." she said wishing she felt as confident as she sounded.
"You and I both know that it is doing more than that. That this curse is more than what it seems." he said softly, careful to keep his eyes on her, raising his hands in what he hoped was a calming gesture. "This magic is not passive, it's interacting with you, and I for one would like to know exactly what it's doing."
"Don't be ridiculous, I don't know what I saw. It was probably just, I don't know, a side effect or something, maybe my imagination. She wasn't good enough to craft a spell that interact with my own magic, a curse that was keyed to bind to me and me only. One that would hold up for this long." She had thought about it, and the implications of what she thought she had seen were absurd. She thought highly of her mother's magical ability but to create a spell that fed off its user without any obvious outward symptoms was a tall order.
"Your mother was the first and only student of the Dark Lord himself. He taught her personally over the years, honed her skills, and introduced her to all manner of magic that most would think impossible. It is unlikely but not out of the realm of possibility that he taught her this." He said quietly, trying to impress on her the magnitude of her mother's magical education.
Her face twisted as he spoke, hating the small spark of...something that grew in her chest as he said it. She felt light, imagining all of the things the Dark Lord could have taught her mother. If things had been different, would he have taught her? The magic he must have known, the things she could do with such magic...That was what her mother was preparing her for, she had never said it, but it would make sense. It was respect she realised with disgust. That strange feeling in her chest, she respected her mother, enthralled by the small hint of her accomplishments.
"Fine." she said shortly, pulling the memory out of the bricked up room where it lived in the back of her mind, pushing it towards her Professor.
"I have a present for you dear Cassiopeia" she felt ill as her mother's voice sung through her memory, her skin erupted in gooseflesh. She had been locked in her room for a week as punishment for running away. She wasn't sure whether she was relieved to see her mother or terrified, so desperate for human contact.
The silver ring caught the light just so, she eyed it curiously, sorrow filling her chest. She knew what was coming.
"This will let me find you no matter where you are in the world. So long as you wear this, you will be connected to your mummy. Isn't it beautiful?"
It was beautiful. Her mother did have good taste, and this curse was no exception. She looked at the delicate snakes engraved on the inside, she pulled it back and looked at his mark on the inside. A mark of her destiny.
A Lestrange special she had called it. It truly was a remarkable piece of spell work.
Snape pulled out of her memory, grabbing her wrist to examine it closely.
"It will connect you to her." he murmured, she could see his thoughts racing as he processed her words.
"Yeah, I ran away from her and so this was her way of making sure it would never happen again. She can always find me, well if she were somewhere where one could apparate."
His head jerked as he began pacing once more, a snarl taking form on his face as he thought through the implications. "It's cant be so simple, this magic is pushing into you, its fused to your very essence, it pulses to your heartbeat. Connected to you how? How would she find you?" He was talking more to himself than her, trying to understand her reasoning.
Cassiopeia shrugged hopelessly, unable to offer more insight into the problem. It had been her obsession for years, and she was no closer to answering these questions. She doubted he would solve it in the first half hour with the problem.
"I always assumed this was keyed to some spell, something she could use to find me." She offered, giving him her best guess.
He shook his head and frowned, continuing his pacing.
"Look, this has been fun and all, real blast. Mind if I go to bed, im knackered and i've got double potions tomorrow. The professor is a real git, hates it if his students fall asleep. Something about exploding cauldrons." Her joke fell flat as he glared at her, before finally jerking his head once more, indicating she was dismissed.
Cassiopeia fell into an uneasy slumber, dreaming of her mother in Azkaban.
She was huddled in the corner of her cell, far away from the window where cold water from a storm flew through and away from the entrance, hiding in the shadows. She was curled up into a ball, attempting to salvage what little heat she could in the freezing prison, her forehead pressed against her knees, her eyes closed.
She kept her mind delightfully blank, fighting the dementors and clinging to her sanity. But every now and then, when they were distracted with easier victims, she would think of her daughter, out in the world, ripped away from her mummy. The ring around her finger pulsed in a beat that was separate from her own heart beat, providing the only warmth in the dark and cold prison and she laughed, half mad with glee and amusement as she felt her daughter once again attacking her connection. It was the one piece of jewelry they couldn't take from her when they locked her away. The only way was to cut off her finger, something they considered before deciding it was too much effort. Better she rot in Azkaban, sooner rather than later.
Her sweet Cassie had strayed far in the absence of her mummy. It was to be expected, she had always been a strong willed little witch, a true Black. But she would guide her, one day, when this hell was over. She would show her the way, no matter what it took.
Xxx
Snape never apologised for his behaviour at their last Occlumency lesson and Cassiopeia was too mentally exhausted to really hold it against him. It was alarming, what she saw in the spectacles, the implications of the extent of the spell.
She finished the last page of her independent study, a massive dissertation that was exactly the maximum amount of words allowed for the examination and stretched her stiff neck. Professor Flitwick was going to proofread it one more time before she submitted it to the NEWT examination panel.
It had been a monumental task, not as groundbreaking as she had hoped, but filled with tantalising insights and clues she thought could be built on in the future. She just hoped it was enough to pass, regardless of the confidence Flitwick and Spavin showed, she always doubted. Things rarely worked out for Lestranges.
She also filled out all of her curse breaking applications. Before applying to an apprenticeship program, a prospective curse breaker had to undergo a formal theoretical educational training lasting normally one year and sometimes stretching into several at a programme accredited by the International Confederation of Witches and Wizards. There were three such programmes in the UK, one in Wales, one in the North of England, and a ministry led one in London. She applied to all three. When applying to such programmes it was traditional for the applicant to also submit letters of intent to apprenticeship programmes around the country, so they could prepare for the potential candidate in one year, and follow their career while undertaking their theoretical education. She wrote letters of intent to the hospital, the bank, and the Ministry.
She received the replies a week before her NEWT exams, two unconditional offers for the Northern and Welsh educational institutions, a conditional offer to the London based programme stating she needed to achieve a minimum of five O's on her NEWTs. Her letters of intent were well received with two unconditional offers of apprenticeship to St Mungos and Gringotts. The ministry invited her to interview for an apprenticeship upon the successful completion of the year long theoretical programme.
Five O's would be tough, she was only taking six exams plus her independent study. Tough but not impossible. Her weakest spot was potions, where she worried she wouldn't be able to pass with more than an A, and her independent study caused her all sorts of stress.
But she was determined. She doubled down on the studying in that final week, cursing the fact that seventh year students took their examinations a full week before the rest of the student population, giving her less time to study. The reasoning behind this was NEWTS took longer to process and the results needed to be available sooner for post Hogwarts educational programmes.
Professor Snape gave her the week off of her occlumency lessons so she could study and she wasted no time begging him for last minute potions tips, which he reluctantly gave her more out of pity than anything.
The Sunday before the exams found her in Professor Quirrell's office having a rather pleasant conversation. She figured she had done all the studying she could and needed to relax, and who better than with her favourite Professor. She had long grown use to his strange anxiety and stutter that made others laugh and taunt him. She recognised that most of her success and knowledge had come from this man, strange as he was, and she owed him a great debt for taking her seriously in her first year.
He was unusually calm during their chat, reminiscing the past seemed to put him at ease as long as he wasn't thinking about his disastrous grand tour. His hands still shook slightly, and his face held a nervous twitch, but his stutter was nearly nonexistent.
"I-uh-I must say Miss Tonks, I will be sorry to see you leave this school. In all my years I have never come across a student as motivated and eager to learn a-as yourself." he gave her a small smile, taking a sip of his tea.
"Well in my defence sir, I had to find some way to make up for the massive points loss I caused my house over the years. I am happy you managed to get the Defence post, you were a brilliant teacher sir, much better suited to that than Muggle Studies."
"Yes. Another subject you excelled in, an easy NEWT for you I would have guessed. Tell me, your father is muggle born correct? Was it him who taught you so much about the muggle world?"
She winced at the term. Though technically correct, Ted Tonks was not her father and it was strange to think of him as such. He was just Ted. "Er-no actually. I uh lived in the muggle world for a few years, before coming to Hogwarts." she answered hesitantly, reluctantly recalling her time at the orphanages.
"O-oh. O-of course. I suppose that was a-after, the uh, a-after.." he trailed off, looking mildly ill as he realised the hole he had dug himself into. She took pity on the poor professor, answering his question despite its uncomfortable nature.
"After my parents were arrested yes. I had no family to take me in, the Tonks' had disappeared years earlier into hiding, and well the Malfoy's had their own problems. So they sent me to a muggle orphanage until it was time to start my career at Hogwarts." She kept her tone dry and emotionless, looking completely unbothered about the rather personal turn of the conversation.
"S-so s-sorry to hear that Miss T-Tonks. I t-travelled a bit with a wizard who was r-raised in a muggle o-orphanage, while on t-tour. Hopefully your e-experience is nothing like h-his was." His stutter returning in full force as he spoke about his trip.
She raised an eyebrow, curious about another wizard living in the muggle world in conditions like her. "I hope his experience was much better than mine, some muggles can be rather er let's say difficult."
"W-well now that you are of a-age, you can always go b-back and show them." He joked, letting out a nervous laugh as his eye twitched, taking another hasty sip of his tea.
She laughed politely, "funny sir, but of course, that is definitely against the law. It wouldn't take much for them to arrest me. My dear adopted sister would just love the opportunity, as she always reminds me at awkward family functions."
"Y-yes, I remember. She is an a-auror cadet correct? Are you c-close?"
She shrugged, thinking about Dora sadly, "No. we had a falling out a few years ago, and she still hasn't gotten over it. I'm not sure she ever will."
He frowned at her sadly, leaning over to refill her cup, "That must be hard, f-fighting with f-family."
"B-but would you? I-if you could without c-consequences? Confront the m-muggles who raised you?" he asked once more, his left eye twitching again.
"Er, no consequences? I guess I would make sure that they wouldn't be able to have children in their care anymore. But that's obviously a hypothetical situation, I would never attack muggles, even ones who deserved it" she laughed nervously, rubbing the back of her neck. Quirrell laughed as well, a short burst as he fumbled with his tea cup.
"O-obviously."
She shrugged again, uncomfortable with the somber mood the conversation was putting her in, "So tell me about this wizard you met on your travels? Did you travel together for a while? Did you fight ghouls or some such together? What's the story there."
His face twitched again, another nervous tick she noticed when she asked probing question about his trip. He normally changed the subject, but for once he was forthcoming, looking a little pale as he spoke, his tone quiet and even, most of his stutter disappearing once more. "H-he was remarkable. I think you would have gotten on with him. W-we travelled together for some t-time. He was someone i was l-looking for, a w-wizard of some local renown. H-he taught me so much, t-things I didn't dream were p-possible."
She smiled at him, happy that he seemed to have made a friend along the way, "Sounds like a great guy to be with, and he grew up in an orphanage."
"Y-yes, his whole life. I-if youre i-interested, m-maybe at the end of the t-term, I could i-introduce you." he looked terrified at the possibility, she assumed he was afraid of going back to wherever they met in the field.
"Sure, we can swap war stories im sure, what sort of magic did he teach you."
"M-mainly theoretical defence, s-some interesting b-branches. Y-you would have enjoyed."
"Brilliant, if all goes well then perhaps this summer if you're up for it. Invite him to London." She grinned, curious about this wizard. He just nodded, looking slightly relieved that it would be in a country he was at least familiar with.
They chatted more, about her coursework, her future plans, and her exam anxiety. Quirrell was not the best at social interactions, but she found his stuttering and stilted conversation almost soothing in the run up to the most important week of her life so far.
When they finally ran out of tea and topics, he walked her to her office door, stopping her just before she left. "You are a remarkable witch Miss Tonks, you are bursting with potential, and I look forward to seeing you grow in the coming years. You are going to do just fine on your exams, and you'll do your parents proud." His face was red as he said it, his eye twitching and only making sporadic eye contact, something that lessened his message slightly. But coming from Quirrell, it was the most touching and sincere thing she had ever heard him say to her.
"Thank you Professor. And I owe a large part of it to you. Thank you for listening to some stupid keen first year and teaching me so much." she almost wanted to hug the man, before deciding against it. It was ridiculous, she would see him again.
The week was a blur of examinations and stress, she was challenged to the point of breaking, and there were several moment where she wanted to cry in frustration. But as friday came she finally did it, she finished her last exam and was ready to take the nap of the century and celebrate in solitude.
Therefore it was a rude shock to be awoken from her nap by the only dorm mate she tolerated, an asian girl named Asha who informed her that Professor Snape wanted her to report to his office immediately.
"He looked livid too, what did you do Lestrange?" she asked, her eyebrows raised.
Cassiopeia was confused and groggy, trying to think of what rules she had broken lately. Shrugging at her housemate she decided that keeping an angry Snape waiting was probably not a great idea and reluctantly rolled out of bed and trudged to his office.
"Sit. Down." he demanded when she walked in, the seriousness in his voice shocking her awake, and the rage setting her on edge.
"Tell me every conversation you have ever had with Professor Quirrell." he demanded sharply, taking a few swipes at her mental barriers.
"You woke me up from my post examination victory nap for more questions about Quirrell." she grouched in irritation, stretching in her chair and thinking that her head of house was the most petty person in the school.
"Professor Quirrell is dead." he said simply. She stopped mid stretch, staring at him in shock.
"What do you mean dead? I just spoke to him last week." she gaped, horrified
"What did you discuss?"
"How? What? How does someone just die?" she ignored his question,
"People die every day. Answer my question Miss Tonks."
"When? At Hogwarts?"
"Professor Quirrell was attempting to steal a highly valuable magical object that was hidden in the school while the headmaster was away on urgent business. He was stealing the object for the Dark Lord, it was something that would return him to power." his voice was low and urgent as he gave her the bare bones of the situation.
Cassiopeia stared at him in open mouth shock, unable to process anything he was saying.
"What killed him?" she asked finally, her voice hoarse as she repeated what he said in her head, trying to find any other meaning.
"He was unsuccessful in his goal and died in the process" he growled, rage flashing across his face once now. "Now, that is all I am going to say. I need to know every conversation you ever had with him over the past year. Starting with last week."
"Quirrell was a death eater?" she asked, sitting back in shock, her mind racing through all of their conversations.
"No. He wasn't. If you are unable to tell me your conversations, then show me." he insisted, growing more impatient with his student.
"You know, I think you are getting a little too comfortable in my head sir," she remarked sarcastically, already searching her memories for the relevant ones.
"Mainly because you appear to be incapable of answering simple and straightforward questions, regardless of how many times they are asked."
She shrugged, pulling the memories forward, searching them herself for any clues to his loyalty, feeling slightly queasy. "You don't think, he uh, was trying to recruit me do you?" she voiced her fears. The Professor remained silent, his eyebrows raised, his wand in hand ready to examine her mind.
"Legilimens." he muttered diving into the memories she pulled for him.
He flicked through most of them impatiently, pausing only on one moment earlier in the term. The book he lent her, the one filled with a ridiculous amount of black magic. She felt his irritation echoing across her mind as he continued rapidly going through the contents of her memories. He paused at her last meeting with Quirrell, slowing it down and examining it closely before pulling out of her head and stalking over to his fireplace.
"We are going to the headmaster right now."
She balked, staying firmly in her seat, staring at her head of house with wide eyes. "Why? Why can you just fill him in on all the information like you always do."
He rolled his eyes, "there are things you need to know, that I am not equipped to explain to you." he said simply.
"That isn't helping sir. I don't want to know. I already know too much." she felt ill, he had wanted to introduce her to a wizard he had travelled with. That was their last conversation, they had even set up tentative plans. Was it him?
"You are being childish, either come to his office or he will come here. Your choice."
She reluctantly followed Snape through the floo to face the man she feared nearly as much as she feared the Dark Lord. In a lot of ways she feared him more, which she found fairly depressing.
The headmaster looked old as he sorted through a small mound of paperwork, before turning to his visitors.
"Ah Severus, I see you brought Miss Tonks. So you have news then?"
Snape looked at his student, jerking his head, "Show him." he said simply.
She gaped at him once more, paling as she looked between the two men. "No. I mean, why cant I tell him?"
"Do you know what is significant about your memories?" he asked pointedly.
"No, but you apparently do, why don't you tell him?"
He growled, "this would all be so much easier if you just listened to me for once Lestrange."
"I just think you're being unreasonable sir, I can barely tolerate you in my head, but him-" she looked at the headmaster, her eyes wide with fear, before glancing at at her teacher.
A few of the portraits shifted in their frames, tutting the rudeness of the student, a few calling down to her to obey her elders. What did they know anyways.
"Perhaps you should tell me the pertinent information Severus." the headmaster said, watching the two fight in amusement.
"He gave her a book in French depicting extremely dark and violent magic. Something she failed to report to anyone else, despite being curious about the contents and instead read it cover to cover before returning it." He snarled, his lip curling as he looked at the girl who was shrinking in her seat, her face red.
"I mean, you just made that sound worse than it actually was sir. He gave me the book because it had some French runes that were similar to an, uh well a project of mine. I just thought that maybe he had forgotten at the book was filled with such er questionable themes. Knowing him, even flipping through some of those pages would have given him nightmares."
"20 points for reading banned material Miss Tonks." Snape hissed, "especially material as graphic as that one had been. That book was probably illegal, and never once when I asked you if he was acting peculiar did you think to mention it."
She shrugged, folding in on herself defensively, glaring at the man.
"And the last conversation however is the most alarming headmaster. Lestrange, show him."
"No!" she protested, she didn't want Dumbledore in her head. Not again.
"Miss Tonks are you familiar with a pensive?" he asked her politely, pointedly ignoring the eye roll from Professor Snape.
She shrugged, looking anywhere but his face, not wanting to be taken by surprise.
"It is a wonderful object that allows me to view the memories of others, without going into their minds. If you could be so kind as to extract the memory, perhaps I can examine it that way."
She fidgeted in her chair, weighing her options. "Is it true? Was he really trying to bring Him back?" she asked finally, her voice low, her face pale with terror.
"Yes." the headmaster confirmed her fears. She reluctantly nodded, listening to his instruction and pulling the memory out of her head and handing it over to the headmaster, who promptly examined it in his pensive.
He looked at her with pity when he emerged from her memory, carefully giving it back to her, allowing her to put it back in its rightful spot.
"How could he be working for the Dark Lord? How is that even possible? He's dead." she asked, finding the silence unbearable.
"Miss Tonks, what I am about to tell you is a secret known to very few. One I would appreciate would remain so, for as long as possible." Dumbledore started, gazing at her carefully.
"Lord Voldemort is alive and out there somewhere. Professor Quirrell was more than Voldemort's servant. He housed him in his own body, Voldemort was a parasite that was with him always."
She flinched at the sound of his name, instinctively snarling at the sound. It took her a few second to move beyond the shock of hearing his name and actually understanding what the professor was saying.
"So when he was talking to himself…" she wondered, her heart dropping and her stomach turning.
"He was likely talking to Voldemort."
"And his stutter, his nervous ticks?"
"All a clever ruse to throw suspicion off himself." Dumbledore said patiently.
"And that wizard he wanted me to meet, all that stuff he said…" she paled further, regretting the celebratory junk food she ate after her last exam.
"Likely was Voldemort. He was likely fishing for your support, planning on bringing him back successfully."
"But why? Why even risk talking to me?" she asked faintly, her body filled with terror.
She had always thought that he wasn't dead, he was too powerful, it had been too convenient, too unbelievable that a mere child could defeat such a powerful wizard and this proved it. The Dark Lord was out there somewhere, weak and desperate, but waiting, biding his time. And he knew about her, had seen her, had followed her for a year. Did he expect her to come to his aid now? Or did he think she didn't know?
"Do you really need to ask that question?" Drawled Snape, giving his student a sharp sideways look.
"He owns me. I was a gift to him." she whispered, barely audible to the others in the room, her eyes wide with fear and horror.
"His plans were foiled and he had fled once more, none the wiser to your knowledge." Professor Dumbledore started, trying to comfort the terrified young woman in front of him.
"He didn't confide in you Cassiopeia, he doesn't expect you to go to him. How could he? You are safe for now." Snape added lowly, trying to calm his students fears.
"For now." she repeated hollowly, "But he's out there. Someone else will find him, he'll get them to help and it'll start all over." She anxiously spun her bracelet across her wrist, her fingers occasionally tracing the Dark Mark etched on the inside face.
"Nothing you can do for now. It took him ten years to get to this point. Perhaps it will be another eleven before he is strong enough to try again." Snape tried to reassure her.
She answered a few more questions to the headmaster before she was thankfully released to go back to her own dormitory. She heard the whispers already spreading through the halls, Professor Quirrell was dead. He had tried to steal something important in the school. Harry Potter had stopped him.
It was all Harry Potter's fault, she decided. If he hadn't been at the school, then none of this would have happened. It had been ten peaceful years in his absence, and now suddenly the Boy Who Lived appeared and the Dark Lord was returning.
She slept fitfully that night, unable to take any real joy out of the remaining school year, so focussed on Him.
She thought back to advice Snape had given her once, when he saw her boggart. She might as well enjoy as much of her life and freedom as she could, forging as many experiences and memories as possible before he returned. He had been sceptical then that he would truly returned, but now she knew it was only a matter of time.
She could spend that time preparing for his arrival, or she could live as much as she could, being as free as possible. The dark future looming also brought on a strange introspection, Cassiopeia thought long and hard about the relationships she had in life, and mourned the ones she had damaged beyond repair. She had no real friends at Hogwarts, and strained relationships with nearly everyone else in her life, and she was the only one to blame for it. She felt regret keenly, and tried to think of ways to make amends to her broken relationships, starting first with her adopted family.
She was living on borrowed time, and she didn't want to waste any more of it.
She was afraid of what the future would bring, but she was determined to enjoy it as much as she could before things changed for the worst.
She smiled at all the appropriate times at her graduation, hugging both Andromeda and Ted who had come to see her graduate from the school. She posed for a picture with a rather reluctant Professor Snape, who scowled into the camera, and took another picture with Professor Flitwick, whose grin split his face nearly in two. She avoided Professor Dumbledore, finding an excuse to congratulate someone when he approached the Tonks couple. She smiled at her old friend, Constance Green and Daniel Jones, and glared at Matilda Cook and Arlene Roberts, relishing the fact that she probably wouldn't have to see them again for a very long time.
She laughed at all of Ted's jokes and enjoyed the after graduation meal, she had even stayed at their house in her old room for the night, keen to see her adopted sister in the morning and wish her well with whatever training she was undertaking. Dora had been less than keen to see her in the morning, and very suspicious when she tried wishing her well with her coursework, which she admittedly understood.
She met with the Malfoys in Diagon Alley, celebrating her graduation with them reluctantly. They didn't ask about the events going on at Hogwarts and she wondered how much they knew. She evaded the questions about her future and her current living situation, not wanting to encourage her uncle Lucius to meddle where he wasn't wanted.
She was alone when she received her NEWT results. She wasn't as nervous as she thought she would be, knowing that if she had totally failed she still had an unconditional offers. With only the barest hint of trepidation she opened her letter and flipped it open, her eyes greedily scanning the results.
Charms ...O
Transfiguration ...O
Defence Against the Dark Arts...O
Independent Study...O
Potions...E
Arithmancy...O
Ancient Runes...O
She did it. She bloody well did it. She poured herself a drink and savoured her success in her flat, looking out at the muggle world below her.
Professor Flitwick wrote her, informing her that her independent study had been anonymously nominated for an award issued by the experimental charms committee for the best up and coming research of the year. Mr Spavin wrote to congratulate her once more and informing her that if she was interested in splitting her study between the bank and the hospital, he had a provisional proposal for it.
She sat in a happy glow that was enhanced slightly from her drink, surrounded by only good news.
Sure, the Dark Lord was out there, somewhere. But for once, things were going in the right direction for this Lestrange, and she wasn't about to spoil it.
She had a bright future ahead of her, and she was going to enjoy it if it bloody well killed her.
A/N
And its bloody well done! I cant believe it! sorry for the long update time, but I wanted to get this chapter out as I launch the first chapter of Part III so you all could go and read that and give it a follow. I will be updating Part III, at least in the beginning a bit slower, as ive got a lot of random bits written, but nothing cohesive. I mainly wanted just something to have up and published in time with this last chapter.
Thank you all for reading, and a few people who commented regularly/ semi regularly have my eternal gratitude. If you enjoyed the story on a whole, or hated it, or felt ambivalent towards it, please leave a review. I could greatly appreciate it, and it really does go a long way to help motivate me to keep writing and keep pushing on. And seeing as this is the last chapter for this part, I would appreciate it even more.
Click on my name to check out Part III, give it a follow, and I promise i'll update as quickly as humanly possible (ive just moved, gotten a new full time job, and am finally settling down into a regular schedule, which gives some time to write.)
Peace
Tibys