It was evening; the hospital wing was quiet, the windows curtained, the lamps lit. Cassandra's was the only occupied bed. Fidele and Tove were at her bedside; they had spent all day waiting outside the double doors, trying to see inside whenever somebody went in or out. Madam De Wit, the Durmstrang matron, had only let them enter at eight o'clock. Ivanovich had arrived at ten past.

Cassandra woke up abruptly sometime between eight and nine. One moment she was asleep and the next she was conscious and frantic, taking desperate gulps of breath.

"You're all right. You're all right, Frau Lestrange. Here," Madam De Wit said, holding a full vial of a runny, green, musty-smelling potion up to Cassandra's lips. She recoiled and opened her mouth to ask what was it and who brewed it, but all that emerged was a faint rasp that made her throat feel like a dragon had breathed fire into it.

"It's Essence of Rue," said the matron. "Drink up."

Cassandra shook her head. She wasn't going to take any chances with potions she hadn't sourced herself.

"Give it here," said Ivanovich. He held the potion to his nose, took a sniff and then gulped some of it down. "All good," he said after a few moments.

She pinched her nose, took the vial and downed the rest of it. The taste was stale and mud-like, the liquid thick enough to almost choke her going down, but as soon as it touched her throat, the burning eased, leaving only a faint ache.

She wiped a sleeve over her mouth, making a face at the aftertaste.

"Thank you," she rasped out. Her throat was still sore, but the raging fire inside her seemed to have banked.

"How do you feel?" asked Fidele. Tenderly she held Cassandra's hand between hers. Tove merely looked at them, clench-jawed and frightened-looking.

"Like I was nearly killed," Cassandra said. She tried to organise her thoughts. Someone had poisoned her. Most likely the wizard who had abducted Merga. She had announced to the entire school that she had the means and the intention to find him. Driven to desperation, he had attacked her like a cornered animal.

Ivanovich drew up a chair beside her bed and looked at her pale face. "How exactly did it happen?"

"The poison was in the Easter egg — the one Galena sent us. Although I doubt they really came from her. I took one bite from it and immediately knew something was wrong. I managed to call for Hux before my throat closed up. He should've realised what was happening and fetched a bezoar without needing to be prompted but he froze. Krum was yelling, then I think I heard you yell," she recounted, looking questioningly at Fidele. "Hux got the bezoar down my throat. That's all I remember."

"Gal sent warning that you were going to be poisoned," Fidele said in a low voice. "Her owl flew through one of the library windows to get to me. Schreiber was pissed; she banned me from setting foot there for a month. I ran all over the castle looking for you. The screaming was me Banishing Krum to the other side of the practice pitch when found you. I thought he'd done it."

"It was lucky you thought of calling for the house-elf," said Tove.

"It would've been luckier if Hux had reacted more quickly," said Cassandra, turning cold at the thought of what would've happened if she had not gotten the little stone in time. "He's getting on in his years; I think it's time to retire him."

"You can worry about the elf later," said Ivanovich. He peered at Fidele from beneath his furrowed brows. "Can Frau Tiresias provide any insight into the identity of our poisoner?"

"I wrote to her asking that a few hours ago, but her response won't get here before tomorrow evening at best."

"What about the two other eggs? Were they poisoned as well?" said Cassandra.

Ivanovich shook his head. "I've tested them. Only the one addressed to you."

Cassandra closed her eyes and sagged against the pillows that Madam De Wit had placed beneath her neck. At least she hadn't imperilled her friends.

"—anything different?"

"We've been—"

When Cassandra woke up again, the hospital wing was awash in early-morning sunlight, and Ivanovich was snoring resonantly from the chair beside her bed. Klaus was perched on a ceiling beam, watching her.

Her body felt stiff and still half-asleep. She pushed up from the bed and rose to her feet, feeling the room spin. She stumbled and held on to a privacy screen. Klaus cawed and beat his wings in worry. She shushed him absentmindedly as she made her way to a window.

Cassandra wasn't sure what she expected to see waiting outside. Her would-be killer standing in the courtyard, glaring at her? Something more sinister?

She shook her head, disgusted with herself for indulging in such inane thoughts and cast a gaze out the window. The courtyard to the left was green with spring grass and empty of students. She must have slept through the night.

"What are you doing?"

Cassandra whirled around to face Ivanovich, who was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. His thin hair was tousled and there was a dusting of white stubble along his jaw.

"Stretching my legs. Have I missed anything important?"

Ivanovich cleared his throat before speaking. "We received a letter from Frau Tiresias on Monday," he began, his voice grave. "It seems that she had been the one to send the Easter eggs to you and your friends, but her owl was intercepted at some point in the journey. That's the extent of what she could tell us."

Cassandra listened intently, her fingers drumming against the windowsill as Ivanovich spoke.

"I reached out to some acquaintances in the Norwegian Magical Law Enforcement community," he continued, "but Karkaroff has forbidden the Ministry from entering the school to investigate your poisoning. He claims that Durmstrang's sovereignty must be respected. And to make matters worse, the Board of Governors is backing him. It seems that for now, there's little we can do."

After a moment's reflection on the news, Cassandra nodded. "I'm not surprised that Karkaroff doesn't want the Ministry nosing around his school. Dumbledore would do the same," she remarked. "And come to think of it, it wasn't Galena's owl that delivered the package… I had assumed Philemon was occupied and she was using a family owl instead. But wait, you said her letter arrived on Monday. What day is it today?"

"Thursday."

"I've been asleep since Sunday?" Cassandra's eyes widened in surprise.

"There's no reason for alarm," Ivanovich replied reassuringly. "The potions required time to work and help purge the poison from your body. Madam De Wit will probably want to keep you here for the rest of the week to ensure a full recovery."

As she gazed out of the window, Cassandra contemplated her current situation. Spending a few more days confined to a hospital bed would not be enjoyable, but for now, it was preferable to attending classes. There was no reason to believe that whoever had hurt her was finished. She was still in danger.

"I suppose that's fine," she murmured mostly to herself. "I could use the time to think."

"You'd be well-served by doing some thinking," Ivanovich said sternly. "You've been acting arrogantly and stupidly. That silly speech you made has painted a target on your back."

"I know. But then again, my very existence painted a target on my back. This is not the first time someone's tried to poison me."

Ivanovich heaved a deep breath and released it with a long, slow exhale. "Of course it's not." His demeanour changed ever so slightly. "Do you have dreams?"

"Whatever do you mean?"

He waved his wand in the air, summoning a steaming mug of tea that hovered gently before her until she accepted it.

"Sit," he said, gesturing to the bed. "It's a simple question. Do you have any dreams for your future?" The words caught her off guard. Her life had been a series of terrifying events she had tried her best to take in stride. She didn't dream about the future. Instead, it loomed ahead like a mysterious prowling beast whose danger she'd been warned about.

Ivanovich took a sip of his tea and set the mug down. "I can see the cogs turning in your head. Have you never asked yourself this before? Do you want to be here? Not here, in this hospital wing, but here in this world? Alive?"

"I fought for my life, didn't I?" Cassandra said, and despite her best efforts, the words emerged with a petulant edge.

"Do away with the defensiveness," ordered Ivanovich. "I'm not leveraging an accusation. I'm asking you these things because I don't know how else to get through to you. I don't want you to live one day at a time, thinking survival is all you should aspire to. You almost died, and you're speaking of it as if it was a trivial experience."

He paused before continuing in a softer tone, "Life can be beautiful or it can be ugly. But it's on you to choose."

"Do you think people like me get that choice?" said Cassandra, leaning forward. "That it can be about what I want, rather than what I can bear?"

"What would be the point of this conversation otherwise?"

She took that in. Somewhere along the way, apathy had become the rock she clung to when the current of fear would seize her. But she had conquered fear. Even now, as she recovered from an attempt on her life, she felt calm and sure. Could she stop clinging to that rock, then, and climb atop it? What would she build there?

"How would I go about doing that?" she asked.

"Dream. Close your eyes and envision the future you're fighting for. If you like it, then it's beautiful."

"And if I don't?"

Ivanovich folded his arms across his chest and shrugged. "Then you might as well eat the rest of that poisoned chocolate egg and fade away right now."

Cassandra strolled down the corridor towards the marble staircase leading to the courtyard, deep in thought. Madam De Wit had granted her permission to take short, supervised walks within the hospital wing's vicinity, and she was making the most of it. Fidele and Tove were keeping a watchful eye on her from a nearby balustrade, absorbed in their homework but still aware of her movements.

If she closed her eyes, what was it that she pictured years from now? Like Ivanovich had said, didn't she need to understand that to decide what kind of existence she wanted to lead? How would her future unfold? There would be war, yes, but her parents had gotten married and had a child during a war.

Would she remain connected with those she deeply cared for — Fidele, Galena, Tove, even Boris? Would she reunite with Adrian? Laugh at Fred and George Weasley's antics, watch Neville Longbottom grow into himself? Would she make amends with Cedric, whom she'd treated so selfishly? Maybe this future included people she'd never dreamed of getting close to.

This is what she had not dared imagine for herself before. A future filled with friends and family. With love. And she would like very much to make it a reality.

On Saturday morning her friends settled themselves around her bed on the hospital wing, armed with stacks of books and notes. Adrian, having been informed of the poisoning, sent her a bouquet of Singing Snowdrops and a strongly-worded letter urging her to be more cautious. Apart from them (and the crooning flowers), the room was mercifully empty. Madam De Wit had seen three different fifth years the past couple of days for minor breakdowns over the fast-approaching G.M.A.s and frankly, Cassandra was over the tears and tantrums.

"All right," said Fidele, tossing a stack of flashcards on her lap. "Quiz us."

"Sure," said Cassandra. She put her overdue History of Magic homework aside and picked a random flashcard off the pile. "What is the incantation for the human-presence-revealing spell?"

"Homenum Revelio," said Fidele and Tove together.

"For an extra point, demonstrate its wand movement."

Tove hesitated just long enough for Fidele to show the correct movement.

Cassandra chose another card. "Identify and describe the properties of the Fanged Geranium, including its Latin name and where it can be found."

"Ooh, I know this one!" said Tove. "The Geranium dentata is native to various parts of Europe and the Andean regions in South America. It has defensive, offensive and herbicidal properties, and its sharp teeth can be harvested and used as potion ingredients."

"Correct. Can you name two potions that contain fangs of Fanged Geranium?"

"Strength Potion, that's one. And…"

Cassandra raised an eyebrow exaggeratedly. "Ske…"

"Skele-Gro! Strength Potion and Skele-Gro."

"That's right! Point to Tove."

"This is not a competition," said Fidele shrilly. "And if it were, then my two points from the first round would have to count."

Tove rolled her eyes. "I scored a point in the first round too."

"No one's getting any points, forget I said that," Cassandra intervened.

"But—"

"No points! Next question. What is the second of the Principal Exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration?"

"Precious metals."

"Noble metals."

"You're both correct, although Tove has a slight edge over you for calling them noble rather than precious metals, Fi. Can you tell me why that is?"

Fidele answered with a pout. "The term 'precious' highlights their economic value and that's not the reason why they can't be permanently Transfigured."

"The reason being…"

"Noble metals are nearly alchemically inert. Which means they're generally resistant to Transfiguration and can't be Conjured at all."

"Frau Lestrange," interrupted Madam De Wit, appearing from behind the privacy screen. "You have another visitor."

"Is Professor Ivanovich back?" asked Cassandra, setting the flashcards aside. "He told me he would be busy today."

Her visitor was not Boris. Viktor Krum entered the dormitory with his characteristic, slightly uncoordinated stride. He was clad in his training kit for the Bulgarian Quidditch team. In one hand he held his Firebolt, and in the other, he carried a beautiful black orchid. He walked purposefully across the room towards her, his intense presence compounded by his furrowed brows and tightly clenched jaw. He halted at the foot of her bed and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, as if unsure of how to proceed.

Now that they were no longer at odds, Cassandra could finally admit how much Viktor's brusque lack of social graces amused her. If Krum were any more tightly wound, he would start ticking like a clock.

"You look like you're here to finish me off," she said with a smile.

Viktor's frown deepened. But Cassandra's smile remained, and she quickly added, "That was a joke. In case you couldn't tell."

Viktor relaxed ever so slightly and acknowledged Tove and Fidele with a nod. "Skau. Rosier."

"Hey, Viktor," Tove said, greeting him in a friendly tone.

Fidele's eyelid twitched. Her barely-suppressed hostility was not lost on Cassandra or Tove, who elbowed their friend not so discreetly. Fidele cleared her throat and replied, "Krum."

"That's probably the best she can do for now," Tove said with an exaggerated smile, enlacing her arm with Fidele's and forcing her to stand. "We'll leave you two to it."

As they walked past Viktor, Fidele couldn't resist a parting jab. "See that you don't let her nearly die right in front of you this time," she muttered under her breath.

Tove whispered angrily to Fidele, trying to drag her towards the door even faster. "Will you leave him be? He apologized!"

Fidele, however, was untouched by that. "Will you leave him be?" she mocked Tove with a high-pitched mimicry. "He apologised."

Cassandra observed Viktor as her friends left, noting that he didn't seem to take the barbs personally. Well, that was good. Even though he had recently had a change of heart regarding Fidele, Cassandra doubted that she would extend any warmth his way in return for the time being. Fidele had years of Viktor's antagonism to fuel her dislike of him, and she loved her grudges.

"I heard you reached out to them and offered the same apology you gave me," she said evenly.

"I did."

"That was big of you."

He shrugged, averting his gaze from her. "It was the right thing to do."

It might've been but in her experience, that didn't make apologising for one's mistakes any easier. "So," she said, pointing at the orchid he was carrying with a flick of her eyebrows, "is that for me?"

"Yes," Viktor answered. He stepped forward and carefully placed the vase on her bedside cabinet.

"It's surprising and pleasingly unconventional. Flower arrangements can look so funereal." She reached for the orchid and touched its delicate petals, appreciating its perfect, dark beauty. "But this is different."

"The colour matches your hair," said Viktor. Cassandra's eyes flickered to him in surprise. He gave another tense shrug. "I thought you might like it."

Something fluttered inside of her, tempted out of dormancy. "I do," she said, lingering on each syllable for long enough to be sure she meant them.

The words reached Viktor and he, at long last, met her gaze. They shared a moment of silence, the tension that had once been palpable between them now replaced with something that more softly thrummed just beneath the surface.

Sensing a shift in the conversation, Cassandra cast her own version of the Imperturbable Charm around the both of them — the one she'd perfected back in Fourth Year so she could have a measure of privacy in public spaces. The walls, she'd learned long ago, had ears.

"I've been rude. Haven't asked you how you've been. I imagine what happened that day must be weighing on you," she said.

"I thought you were going to die," said Viktor, his voice filled with an emotion Cassandra couldn't name as he took the seat Tove had vacated. "I had no idea what to do. I had never…"

Cassandra nodded. Over a year later, she was still caught off-guard sometimes by the vivid memories of the night when she was trapped in an abandoned building, facing the brutal wrath of Greyback's pack. She remembered the terror and incredulity that had gripped her, how the only thing that had given her a sense of what to do had been her grandfather's shouted orders. She considered that to have been her first close brush with death. Unintentionally, she had provided Viktor with his. "It's like you can't believe it's happening even as it is happening," she said.

"I wanted to think you were having me on. Then you started turning purple."

"I'm sorry you had to witness that," said Cassandra sincerely.

Viktor scoffed. "I'm more sorry you had to go through it. In fact, I wanted to apologise. Again." He ran a hand over his face, as though trying to wipe away the evidence of his distress. "I shouldn't have taken so long to figure out what was going on; I should have brought you to the infirmary right away. If I had just taken the chocolate when you offered it to me…"

"Viktor," she said, sliding down her bed to be closer to him. "You do not owe me an apology for any of those things."

"I do," said Viktor testily, pummeling her bed with his open hand.

Cassandra grasped his arm firmly, her eyes blazing. "You don't," she challenged. "Even if you had failed to recognize the symptoms and I had choked to death at your feet, there still would be nothing for you to apologise for. Unless it was you who poisoned me in the first place."

Viktor looked taken aback. "You don't have to placate me," he said, sounding as though the very concept was insulting, but not quite meeting her gaze. His eyes kept slipping down to her parted lips, his dark lashes fluttering distractingly.

"Do you play wizard's chess?" Cassandra asked in a slightly breathless tone.

Viktor frowned, shaking his head. "I—Yes, it develops a lot of skills that are transferrable to Quidditch. Why?"

She scooted back, putting some distance between the two of them. "In wizard's chess, help isn't allowed, correct?" she continued. Viktor grunted, not yet grasping the point she was making. "That's the beauty of the game. You're locked into a set of moves as determined by your previous choices, your options changing dramatically with every decision. There is no lifeline, no external force at play. It's a pure battle of two opponents."

"When I announced that I was soon going to uncover the identity of Merga's killer, I checked an opponent whom I knew wasn't beyond committing murder," said Cassandra, her voice unwavering. "Tell me, what are the three ways of escaping check?"

"You can move your king, block the check with another piece or capture the checking piece," he replied.

"As far as my opponent was aware, he had no means to evade my locating ritual or to pin the blame for his crimes on some other person. The only move that could save him from capture was to remove the threatening piece from the board."

"Meaning you," said Viktor. His eyes narrowed as he absorbed the implications of her words. "You knew this person would come after you."

"Yes, I knew. It was a calculated risk. If I could truly expose Merga's killer so easily, why would I reveal that and give him the opportunity to stop me?"

"You were bluffing?" Viktor asked.

Cassandra's lips curved into a smirk. "Yes. The ritual works, mind you, but it requires a living subject. If we had found Merga's child alive…" Her voice trailed off, leaving the unspoken implication hanging in the air.

"You thought you could provoke him into making a move," said Viktor.

"Exactly. But I didn't anticipate this particular move. Merga and her child's murder lacked subtlety, lacked caution. Keeping her alive so close to the castle for nearly a year, then dumping her body publicly, making a such macabre display of it… Those were risky choices. Why not vanish the corpses or bury them discreetly in the forest?"

"Those crimes were not the work of a cautious mind," Cassandra pressed on. "They reek of overconfidence and contempt. I expected to be met with unchecked aggression, for him to try to abduct me as he did with Merga or attack me when I was alone. He truly surprised me with the poison. Poisoners are usually meticulous planners and plotters, killers who do their homework."

Viktor's piercing gaze bore into her, his expression incredulous. "So you willingly placed yourself in the sights of a killer because you believed that's how you would catch him?"

"It was an impulsive decision." Cassandra maintained her composure, her demeanour unflappable. "You have to understand, Viktor, I am stunningly arrogant. I would wager on myself in a duel against any witch or wizard in this school, save for Ivanovich," she replied. "I didn't believe my life was truly in danger."

Viktor's laughter was rough, a mixture of awe and frustration playing across his features. "I wish I didn't respect that choice, but I do," he admitted.

Cassandra smiled, liking Viktor more with every passing second. "Well, you should."

"That day, I told you I wanted to help you catch this guy. I still do," he declared firmly. "This madness has to come to an end, Lestrange. Lives have been lost."

"If we leave it up to Karkaroff, he'll allow whoever is behind this to keep killing for as long as he can get away with. His only interest is maintaining his position."

"Hasn't Professor Ivanovich got any ideas?" asked Viktor. "He was an Auror during the war."

"I suspect he has hundreds of ideas," said Cassandra. "But the only ones he's willing to share with me involve pulling me out of Durmstrang for the time being and rallying parents to strong-arm the Board of Governors into removing Karkaroff and allowing the Ministry of Magic to conduct a formal investigation. He wants to do things by the book."

Viktor leaned in, resting his elbows on his knees and interlacing his fingers. "And what are you going to do?"

"They tried to kill me, Viktor," she said solidly. "Now it's my turn to make a move. I'm going to try to kill them."

*Some conversations in this chapter were inspired by (cough, stolen from) an episode of Mr Robot I watched a few weeks ago. In it, the protagonist was asked to contemplate the dreams he had for his future as a way to help him find value in his own existence.

**"Geranium dentata" translates to "toothed geranium" in English, referencing the Fanged Geranium's fanged or tooth-like appearance.

***In physics, there are only three noble metals: copper, silver and gold. I am maintaining this same strict classification for the fields of alchemy and transfiguration. I made noble metals one of the Principal Exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration because it seems plausible to me that wizards shouldn't be able to transfigure or conjure these materials (otherwise, they would hold little monetary value).

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! If so, please leave a review. They feed the attention-starved hamsters inside my brain that spin hard on their wheels to keep me motivated and inspired to write. xx, b