20th December 1993
Dear Adrian,
I apologise for the agitated tone of my last letter. Yes, it's all true. No, I'm not in danger. At least, I don't think so.
I'm as well as one can be, under the circumstances. Galena hasn't had any more nightmares since that night, and her spirits have risen steadily. Funnily enough, I believe she's the most well-adjusted of us all right now.
Ivanovich and Professor Krauja felt it was the right thing to inform Headmaster Karkaroff of the discovery we made. Professor Lasses argued strongly against it but was unable to sway them from their position. I was undecided at first, but now I see that Lasses was right. Keeping that information to ourselves — and perhaps, Merga's family — would've been a mercy. Karkaroff did a morning announcement about it, proclaiming that the mystery of Merga's death had been solved; that she had committed suicide after the accidental death of her illegitimate child, and that the whole thing had nothing to do with Gellert Grindelwald or his supporters. A few days ago, everyone at school saw her as a victim. Now, she's a slag.
Nothing about Karkaroff's story rings true, but he's conveniently resolved a major problem with nothing but a story. The man is slick if nothing else.
What are your plans for the holiday? I need to know where to send your present. Galena's invited us to go to Greece with her and I said yes, even though her family doesn't observe Yule. It's better this way; it wouldn't feel right to celebrate it without Grandfather and Mimi.
Write to me soon, and as often as you can.
Your friend,
Cassandra Lestrange
They had fled from Durmstrang like a pack of migrating birds.
They travelled light, only taking with them what they considered to be the bare essentials for a holiday. When they opened their luggage for inspection at the Greek Ministry of Magic Immigration & Customs Department, the contents of their trunks were a fair indication of their character and interests. Tove's luggage contained a multitude of diaphanous garments, three sketchbooks, and a regiment of small bottles each containing some potion guaranteed to either enhance one's beauty or imbue them with a variety of punishing ailments. Fidele's travel bag held a handful of chic knit jumpers and tailored trousers which were wrapped around her father's old wand, an enchanted knife, and a book called Everything You Need To Know About Human Sacrifice. Galena, being a citizen of Magical Greece, didn't have her luggage inspected. Cassandra travelled with only the items that she thought necessary to bring her a sense of ease in a foreign land: a couple of schoolbooks, her familiar in his cage, a sensible selection of clothes, and an extravagant amount of money.
They made their way to the island inhabited by the Tiresias in the Saronikos Gulf by boat.
The sea undulated with crystalline blue waves that glimmered in the light of the early morning sun. A white fan of sea foam spread gently behind the boat, a veil made of bubbles. Cassandra inhaled deeply. The air was pleasantly chilly and saturated with the briny smell of seawater. It was such a departure from the frozen gloom of winter in Durmstrang, it felt as though they had Apparated to another planet.
"It's beautiful," she said, shielding her eyes from the sun to make out the brown slopes of the mountains, stained with the green of olive groves, and the ivory beaches that curved along the shore.
Galena gave her an exuberant smile. "It's even more beautiful in the summer. You see over there? That's where the Siren colony is."
"They're not weird-looking like the Selkies in Britain. They're gorgeous," said Tove, who had her face to the sky and her eyes closed, as though she were trying to absorb as much fresh air as she could. Her skin had taken on a sickly green hue throughout their maritime travel.
"They're delightful!" said Galena, softly rubbing Tove's back. "To everyone but Muggle men, that is. When the weather gets warmer, they sit on the rocks and sing songs. The wizards get quite distracted."
"So does Fidele," Tove laughed.
Fidele whipped her head around in their direction. "I do not!"
"Yes, you do. Last summer, we couldn't figure out why she got so awkward whenever one of them came to shore to trade with us — they love trinkets — but it was totally the liking girls thing."
"They don't wear clothes," Fidele explained with a red face and a sharp tone. "It's uncivilised."
The rest of them broke into a fit of giggles, their laughter carried away by the sea wind.
Cassandra poked her elbow into Fidele's side to get her attention. "There's no need to defend yourself. You're allowed to find girls attractive. You're even allowed to be crass about it. Circe knows we are when it comes to boys."
"Mostly Tove," said Galena.
"Discussing boys with all of you is different. I might as well be talking about Herbology," she replied, mollified. "And the Sirens… Well, they're not exactly girls, are they? They're creatures."
"Hot creatures," Cassandra shrugged. She'd done this song and dance with Adrian before and knew the steps well. She leaned her arms over the boat railing and smiled knowingly at Fidele. "Who knew you had such a sense of propriety in you? I thought the French were supposed to be liberated when it came to—"
Fidele demonstrated just how mature and liberated she was by yanking a fistful of Cassandra's hair before she could finish talking.
Not too long after, they disembarked from the boat and stepped onto the pier. Mrs Tiresias and her youngest daughter, Dorcas, were already there, standing beside a magnificent pegasi-drawn carriage. The family resemblance was clear to see. Galena's olive complexion and dark, ringlet curls were shared by both her mother and little sister. Mrs Tiresias, however, exuded a more unassuming air than her daughters, whose aquiline noses gave them an air of nobility.
Galena rushed ahead of them to reunite with her mother and sister. After what seemed to Cassandra an overwhelmingly effusive display of familial hugging and cheek kissing, Mrs Tiresias turned her attention to her daughter's friends, smiling sweetly, and greeted them in charmingly accented German.
"Tove! Fidele! What a pleasure it is to see you again. We have your usual rooms ready and waiting for you. And Cassandra, it's so wonderful to finally meet you. We've all been looking forward to getting to know Galena's new friend."
Cassandra hesitated for a moment before smiling back at the beaming witch. She often found herself discomfited around other people's mothers, too eager to please and resentful of herself for it. "It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Frau Tiresias."
"We'll have plenty of time to get better acquainted later, but for now, let's not waste any time. I imagine the journey was tiring, so let's head straight to the house where you can all have a little rest before lunch."
While the group climbed inside the stagecoach, Cassandra busied herself with removing Klaus' cage from her drawstring travel purse. He cawed indignantly at her and flapped his wings violently until she released him. Once free, he immediately flew off, a black dot of ink slashing through that unbelievable blue.
Inside, the ivory-and-gold-lacquered carriage was spacious and smelled faintly of myrrh. Cassandra missed the sea already, but Tove looked relieved to no longer be on the water. As soon as they all got comfortable in their seats, the intelligent pegasi drawing the carriage charged all by themselves, causing the witches to sway in place as they took to the skies.
They made casual conversation and marvelled at the views below as they soared among the birds. After a short ride, the carriage descended gracefully towards a grand villa nestled atop a hill. The Tiresias' residence was different from any Cassandra had seen before. It was a sprawling complex of chalky stone buildings connected with one another, arranged around an expansive courtyard.
Mrs Tiresias led them inside and up a limestone staircase to a set of spacious rooms on the second floor. She made sure they were settled in comfortably and left them with a sweet smile.
22nd December 1993
Dear Cassandra,
I'm glad to know you're safe. Please, don't feel the need to apologise for your spine-chilling letters. The play-by-play of your terrifying existence keeps me from deluding myself into thinking we can achieve any measure of peace as a society. I need the reminders, lest I become an optimist in your absence.
I never would have imagined that I'd view Dumbledore as a responsible Headmaster, with the continuous mortal dangers that keep cropping up at Hogwarts every year, but Igor Karkaroff's making me grateful for the old codger.
Regarding my holiday plans, I'll be staying with my family in Colchester, wishing I were anywhere else. You can mail me there. I'm counting on a lavish present to make up for the fact that you're ditching me to gallivant around the Mediterranean with your shiny new friends. I expect to see you in July, or heads will roll. Possibly mine.
I have news about Diggory if you want them.
Yours,
Adrian Pucey
Cassandra celebrated Christmas for the first time in her sixteen years of life alongside her friends and the Tiresias family. She participated in a Christmas boat decoration contest, which was taken very seriously by everyone involved; gamely sang carols in broken Greek; ate more sweets than she could ever remember eating and dutifully pretended not to find the idea of Galena's father distributing presents while transfigured into a white-bearded, red-caped, long-dead wizard to be completely ridiculous.
These activities brought about a sense of bittersweetness. Cassandra missed her own family and their holiday traditions. Ivanovich was a fine guardian, but he neither desired nor was equipped to take on the emotional role of a parent. When she'd informed him of her plans for the holiday, he'd casually expressed his gratitude for not having to plan one of his few breaks from his duties around her. She'd been grateful as well, for her own reasons. The anniversary of her family's murder was not a date she cared to spend with her reliable yet aloof guardian.
But Cassandra wasn't alone in her longing, and that made it better. Tove and Fidele also observed the boisterous Tiresias family with the same blushing hunger that she did. They, too, envied their friend for what she had and loved her for being willing to share it.
It was difficult to begrudge Galena for anything. Cassandra could not remember the other witch ever being happier; she skipped as she walked, apparently delighted to have their company at home. Her younger sister was much the same. Little Dorcas glued herself to their sides and was always underfoot, laughing at their jokes and mimicking their varied accents, begging to be let into their adolescent world.
Gradually the magic of the island had settled over them as gently and clingingly as a mist. Each day had a tranquillity, a timelessness about it, so that they wished it would never end. But then the darkness of night would fade away and there would be a fresh day waiting, glossy, colourful and blissful.
Then, on the very last day of the holidays, something happened that brought back them crashing back to reality.
"Galena, my sweet," said Mrs Tiresias, poking her head into her daughter's bedroom where they were trying to levitate Dorcas without using wands. "Could you and your friends come down to the garden? Your father and I would like a word."
Galena's face fell. She looked around at Cassandra, Tove and Fidele, all of whom were staring back at her. Klaus, who'd been happily perched on Cassandra's shoulder for the past quarter of an hour, leapt gleefully onto the top of Dorcas' head and cawed at the top of his lungs.
"Right now?" said Galena blankly.
"We can't delay it anymore."
"What do they want?" asked Tove, looking unnerved as Mrs Tiresias withdrew from the room. "Is it about school, do you think?"
"Yes," said Galena sadly, and refused to elaborate.
A minute or two later, they sat out in the garden, under the small tangerine trees. There was a spread of amber grapes on the table, a dozen black figs striped with pink where they had burst their seams with ripeness, and a giant watermelon sliced in convenient triangles. Mr Tiresias, a great hulking wizard with a thunderous voice who in the past few days had watched over them as tenderly as if he were minding very young children, sat quietly with his arms folded over his chest and an unhappy frown between his thick brows.
"Would you girls like some fruit?" asked Mrs Tiresias. She tsk disapprovingly when they refused. "You must eat more at school when you go back, or else you'll leave all your strength behind."
"Please, mama," said Galena in a small voice. "Don't."
Fidele grabbed Cassandra's hand under the table.
"I wish we didn't have to, my dove," Mr Tiresias said mildly, his frown becoming more pronounced. A tender expression overcame his wife's plain face.
"We wanted to get you all together to let you know that Galena will not be going back to Durmstrang for the next term," said Mrs Tiresias.
"What?" Tove and Fidele blurted out.
"We've given it a lot of thought, but it's simply not safe to have her back at school with everything that's been going on. One of your schoolmates dead, her spirit tormenting Galena and then leading you to the body of her child… We can't in good conscience let Galena return to Durmstrang and risk her being put through anything worse."
"But we can protect her," Fidele said aggressively. "We've been protecting her."
"We know that. And we thank you. But now it's our turn to protect our daughter, and the best way we can do that right now is by keeping her home."
Fidele looked quickly round at Cassandra for support.
"Is there anything we can do to change your mind?" Cassandra said. She had the horrible sensation that she was wrong to argue. Who was she to question how a parent protected their child? What did she know of that?
"No," Mr Tiresias answered gravelly.
"But we're a coven," said Tove despondently. "We have to be together."
Mrs Tiresias reached forward to envelop Tove's hands with her own. "And you're welcome to spend every holiday you can with us. We know how much you girls all mean to each other. But as long as Durmstrang remains unsafe, this is how it has to be."
"Did you even think to ask her what she wants?" said Fidele, looking livid. "Do you even care?"
"Fi…" said Galena, but Fidele had already pushed her chair roughly aside and was striding back to the house.
30 December 1993
Dear Adrian,
I hope you enjoyed your 52-year-old Japanese Firewhisky. Only 41 bottles were produced of it, from just a single ex-sherry cask. At the time my great-uncle bought it, it was the most expensive Japanese Firewhisky ever sold. I know how much you appreciate outrageous things like that, so it should be right up your alley.
Seeing the words "Dumbledore" and "responsible Headmaster" in the same sentence was quite diverting; thank you for that.
I assure you we'll see each other for the Quidditch World Cup, if not before. I'm snagging tickets for us as soon as they set the date, regardless of who's playing. Remember that prat Krum I told you about? Everyone's convinced he's going to lead Bulgaria to the finals. If that's the case, I'm going to have fun rooting for whatever team he plays against — hopefully England!
I think it would be best for me to abstain from hearing any news about Cedric unless they pertain to his safety.
Love,
Cassandra Lestrange
P.S. Thank you for the perfume, it's lovely.
P.P.S. I changed my mind. Tell me.
Cassandra stared blandly at a random spot to the right of Mrs Tiresias' head, her back straight as a board. Galena had rushed after Fidele when she'd stormed off from the garden, and Tove had been quick to follow after the both of them. Cassandra had hesitated for a couple of seconds too long and now here she was, pretending to be enraptured by the sight of the olive groves in the distance while Galena's parents communicated silently.
After reaching some mysterious agreement with his wife, Mr Tiresias excused himself and disapparated away. Before Cassandra could do something similar, Mrs Tiresias spoke again.
"Galena told me you were a pragmatic young witch. I see that she was right."
Cassandra eyed her, realizing she wasn't getting away without conversation."Is she ever wrong?"
"Sometimes. That's one of the cruelties of the Sight, that it has to be interpreted by fallible humans. Galena's visions are always accurate, but her interpretation of them can often be misguided. It's why she keeps journals, to try and keep some perspective."
Mrs Tiresias suddenly looked very tired. Cassandra watched her inscrutably for an uncomfortably long moment, studying her, then relaxed. "I'm used to things not going how I expect them to. Or want them to. That life lesson has also beaten into Tove. Fidele is still… Well, she has a mum."
"What does that mean?" Mrs Tiresias asked curiously.
"That her whole life she's had someone cheering her on, saying that she can do anything. Making her believe that with enough work and dedication, there's nothing she wants that she can't achieve."
"And what would you want, if you could have anything at all?"
Cassandra chuckled humorlessly. "A mum."
Mrs Tiresias gave her a pained look and reached out to touch her comfortingly, but she drew back.
"It's fine. As I said, I'm used to things not going my way."
"I'm very sorry that you didn't get to grow up experiencing a mother's love, Cassandra. I wish there was something I could do." Mrs Tiresias took a cleansing breath. "I know that my daughter is mad at me, and I understand that you girls might be as well. But this is the only decision I can make. My number one priority has always been and will always be to keep Galena safe."
Cassandra considered biting her tongue, but didn't. "Is that why you've arranged a marriage for her?"
"That's not— You don't understand."
"I come from two of the most rabid pure-blood supremacist families in the world. With all due respect, I understand arranged marriages better than you think."
"I love my daughters more than anything," said Mrs Tiresias forcefully. She closed her eyes and rubbed at the middle of her forehead, her voice watery. "In my family…"
Cassandra waited. Mrs Tiresias took a deep breath and tried again. "My family has consistently produced a powerful Seer every three or four generations, for almost three thousand years. The Sight skipped my father, myself and my brothers.
"Growing up, it was always impressed upon us how extraordinary our family was. How jealously others coveted our gift. I was taught to be zealous, paranoid and insular because to be anything else might result in my death. I hated it. I wanted to be like everyone else. I wanted to be free. And when it turned out that I hadn't been blessed with the Sight, that I was nothing but an ordinary witch, I was allowed that freedom. I got to marry for love and to choose my own path in life.
"When I got pregnant with my girls, I selfishly hoped that the Sight would skip them as well. I prayed for it every single night. My husband would laugh at me — a witch, praying like a common Muggel. But I knew that being ordinary, being skipped over, would be my daughters' best chance at a happy life.
"And then Galena… Our sweet Galena. When she was a little girl, before she reached past my knees, she would wake up crying in the middle of the night, desolated, because she'd Seen someone get hurt in her dreams. She had dozens of imaginary friends, and most of them were people my husband and I had known before their deaths.
"I'm trying my best for her. We're trying our best, I promise you. She's Seen… People know of her power. There are murmurs all around Greece about what she can do. That's why we chose to send her to a foreign school. She's Seen herself be killed a hundred times, in a hundred different ways. Stavros, the wizard we've betrothed her to, is her best chance at staying alive. She's told us so herself.
It brings me no joy to marry my daughter to an ambitious, cold man almost my age. But if that's what it takes to protect Galena, so be it."
"You got happiness. She gets safety?"
"If it's one or the other, yes."
Cassandra brought her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. She believed Mrs Tiresias was being truthful, and that made her feel even sadder. "It shouldn't be this way. She deserves better."
"Of course she does."
"You should give her the choice. Between living a long life and a happy one. It's hers to make."
"You're not a mother."
"No. But I was a daughter once. And I would want to choose. Every time, I would want to choose."
01 January 1994
Dear Cassandra,
I couldn't have picked a better present for myself. My ogreish cousins and their daft parents — the ones among them capable of recognizing a bottle of Karuizawa, at least — were positively frothing at the mouth when I opened it. Thank you, thank you, thank you! And you're getting us tickets for the Quidditch World Cup as well? It's like my birthday and Yule have been wrapped up into one. Marcus is going to shit himself.
I debated whether it was a good idea or not to update you on what's going on with Diggory, but I think you need to hear it. He's dating someone else. He and Cho Chang were seen together at Madam Puddifoot's (gag!) during the last Hogsmeade trip, and she's stuck to his side like a barnacle ever since.
I don't know if this changes anything for you. I don't even know if I want it to. It'd be nice to have my best friend back, but I see now how awful things would be for you at Hogwarts this year, with the Dementors and Sirius Black rounding the castle. I'm sorry you have to choose between dealing with all of this at Hogwarts or going to school elsewhere for some bloody piece of mind. Not that you're getting much of that over at the Durmstrang Institute of Ritual Murder and Body Exhumation.
Your ever-loyal friend,
Adrian Pucey
*Galena's father distributed presents while dressed as Ayios Vassileios, or St. Basil, a traditional Greek figure associated with good-spirited gift-giving around Christmastime. It amused me to make Cassandra interact with some version of Santa Claus and of course, wizards would assume he was one of them.
**The Japanese Firewhisky Cassandra gifted Adrian was inspired by a real (very expensive) bottle of whisky, Japan's Karuizawa Distilary's 52-Year-Old Zodiac Rat Cask #5627.
***I considered including Cassandra's response to Adrian's last letter, but it would've just been, "Who the fuck is Cho Chang?"
Thank you for patiently waiting for another chapter! I wanted to take the girls out of Durmstrang and work on some character development instead of the plot for a bit, and this was the perfect opportunity. Not that this chapter doesn't also advance the plot (wink wink). The next update will be posted on the 27th. Please leave a review if you're so inclined, they make me very happy.
Also, to the girl who corrected my Google Translate German in the reviews, thank you very much! Feel free to PM me with any further corrections.