May 12th, 2005 - Over the Gulf of St. Lawrence
While making her way to the mainland, towards Blanc-Sablon - which would take 11 hours by her roughest estimate - Cassandra considered her plans for the future. First things first was, obviously, getting back to civilization. Or at least out of the remains of Newfoundland. After…she had a few decisions to make.
Obviously as a minor, being only 16, she was likely going to be pressed into school and the foster system. Frankly, both were unacceptable. She'd been no slouch when it came to academics, and Albus definitely hadn't been either. He might not have the most up-to-date information on her world, but in terms of mathematics, English literature, and even some sciences, he was proficient enough to teach. At least all the information up to the 1990s.
A lot of alchemy overlapped with chemistry, and Albus had been considered at the forefront of magical chemistry for the wizarding world. He even had several awards, achievements, and discoveries in the field - his 12 Uses for Dragon's Blood to name one. He had a surprising amount of knowledge considering the hard sciences. Which meant that she did, too.
So, her education was mostly sorted. She didn't really want to have a boring, normal job now, anyway. Not after her experiences. She wasn't Harry, with his desire to be "Just Harry." She wanted…well, she didn't know what she wanted. But it wasn't to be "normal."
As for foster care…no. Just no. Absolutely, positively, no. She refused. She would rather live in the woods, in her tent, with no contact at all with civilization outside fighting Endbringers and other S-class threats.
She'd leave that for a backup option.
So, what should she do? She could approach The Guild - which was really just the State's PRT by another name after it'd failed to get off the ground in any meaningful way - and demonstrate her abilities. They'd probably bend over backwards to recruit her, always needing more bodies on the streets in the never-ending battle against crime.
Channelling dad there a bit much, Cassie. That was very cynical… But no less true.
That…also didn't appeal to her. Sure, they had resources, something that she likely would need, but there were…far too many restrictions. She'd have to reveal too much, more than she would be comfortable with, and there was also the whole "was she really a Parahuman to begin with" aspect of things. That was a can of worms she really didn't want to open.
Because she was certain the answer was "no, no she wasn't, and it's going to be pretty obvious."
Alright, so no going the "official Hero" route. She won't have access to the resources those organisations had, no biggy. Her parents…well, the RBC Royal Bank handled their money, as far as she was aware, so she could claim that. They might have had life insurance, too, so she'd have to check that. Outside that? Well…If it wasn't in the ocean somewhere, it was converted into a tomb.
If she was blocked on both of the aforementioned fronts, either due to being unable to prove her identity or because of PRT/The Guild bullshittery? She'd have to get creative.
The alchemic formula for transmuting stone into copper slid to the front of her mind almost on reflex. It would be cheap to acquire stone, and copper was in short supply due to shipping issues from nations that had a monopoly on its mining. She'd get a pretty penny for it. She also recalled that, while the laws of magic said one couldn't conjure food from nothing, you could duplicate food that already existed.
Endlessly, too.
How the fuck does that make any sense? Isn't that basically just conjuring it, only you're conjuring a copy of food that exists? How is that any different? How?! Albus had apparently tried for a year to figure this very question out himself, only to throw his hands into the air and call it one of the arbitrary limitations of magic.
Right. So food wasn't a problem. Nor was water. Her tent had all the amenities and comforts of a small apartment, and could be carried anywhere. So…what did she need, really?
Materials. Lots of them. She'd need to get a whole set up going for enchanting, alchemy, tinkering, that sort of thing. And she'd need lots of various types of clothes, minerals, plants, and more. Alchemy could get her a lot of what she needed, but the less she had to transmute a material, the better the results and purity would be. And purity meant a lot when creating enchanted items.
So, I "arrive at the shore" on debris that I'll, of course, conjure, to make it slightly believable that I, somehow, managed to survive. I deal with the media storm that'll happen from my "miracle" of survival. I see about my parent's estate, or lack-there-of, and apply for either emancipation, or disappear after taking the money and running if they won't play ball, so to speak. Rough plan. The roughest, really. Albus would be ashamed. But she didn't have his influence, so she'll work with what she has.
After that? Well, she'll have to explore her new powers. Fully integrate Albus into herself, get a firm grasp of his knowledge and abilities, and then start acquiring his skill with said knowledge and abilities. After all, the only reason Albus bested Gellert was, as he often said, a touch more skilled. Not more powerful, though he certainly wasn't a slouch there, but skilled.
It was the same with Tom. Riddle had been stronger, magically, and while Albus actually was certain he rivalled Tom with his knowledge of the Dark Arts, Tom had been far more willing to use that knowledge. That meant he had far more destructive spells and curses to draw on than Albus.
So how had Tom, for all his power and youth, comparatively, never beaten Albus? Simple. Albus had been more skilled using his power than Tom. Tom had skill, yes. More than most. But Albus? Albus had decades on Tom, and he hadn't sat idly during them. He'd been capable of fighting Tom to a draw even at over a century old during the battle at the Ministry, after all.
Cassandra needed that skill if she wanted to survive. She'd need to get practising, and fast.
…I also need time to… She couldn't rely on Occlumency forever. Albus' memories and experience told her this. She needed time to grieve. To come to terms with it.
And she wanted to be safe, secure, and alone when she did. Just in case her magic - God that was still a strange thing to think about - lashed out.
Basic plan established, let's put it into action. First, however, she needed to get to shore. And that meant a long, long, flight. Ughhhhh…
May 13th, 2005 - Coast of Blanc-Sablon
Cassandra had forgotten one, critical, part of her whole plan to get to the mainland.
She'd set out at mid-day. It was now early the next morning, as in, the sun was not out. She had been flying all day and most of the night, and as much as she would like to say she was in amazing shape, she didn't think that applied to her hawk-self. I'm so tired…
Diving towards the water, Cassandra supposed there was a benefit to the darkness. It certainly made a convenient cover! Pulling upwards before she hit the water and slowing down, she reverted back to human form and took a breath. The water was cold, but thankfully the shoreline was close enough for her to swim even while exhausted. Pulling herself onto the sand, she made sure to resize and slip her bag into a pocket - just incase questions were raised about it - and looked around.
The small town of Blanc-Sablon had some 300-500 residents near the coast, in the town proper, with another 500-600 spread out around it. It was very sparsely populated. It was currently 5:40am, according to the Tempus spell that Cassandra wandlessly and silently cast, so it was unlikely that many people would be awake or out and about.
She spotted some rescue ships anchored at a harbour nearby, and slowly dragged herself to her feet. At least she wouldn't have to sell the whole "exhausted and needing assistance" routine. She was beat.
There was a hastily thrown together relief station, which looked to be lightly manned and supplied. Likely the leftovers of a much bigger effort. With the devastation she'd seen while flying, she imagined many had simply given up on finding too many survivors from her section of Newfoundland. She didn't blame them.
Making her way toward one of the tents that still had lights shining, and thus hopefully people that could "help" her, Cassandra made sure to have everything that would out her as a cape resized and hidden away. She didn't want to be unmasked, even if there was no real civilian side to her identity left. Albus' memories clearly showed that having some ability to relax, unburdened by duty and worry, would be a Godsend.
Pushing open the flap of the tent, Cassandra squinted in the light and took in the sight of two soldiers. One a man, the other a woman. She couldn't tell their rank, but figured they were part of the Canadian Army Reserve (ARes). They jolted at the sight of her, and seemed slightly wary.
"Yes, Miss? Can we assist you?" The man asked. He was as tall as she was, not very broad, with a little bit of extra weight to him that hinted at a role that spent less time in the field. Not fat, but not very active - spending more time at a desk, maybe. Likely the commanding officer of the small camp.
"H-hello…I'm, my name is Cassandra Reid." Cassandra began, and for a moment she was lost on what to say. "I'm from M-Mount Pearl. Can you…help me?"
It took the two soldiers a few seconds to puzzle that together, but once they had, the man practically leapt from his chair, banging his legs on the small table and scattering paperwork. The woman was at Cassandra's side, looking her over and talking on a radio - asking for someone from medical to come assist. Cassandra was guided over to a chair that had been dragged from the desk and pushed to sit down.
"It's alright, Miss Reid. You're safe now. You've had a horrifying experience, and you're very strong and brave for making it here." Cassandra simply nodded along with the words, leaning back in the chair and closing her eyes.
She was very tired. A quick nap wouldn't hurt, right? She'd been flying for hours…
"Miss Reid?" The man questioned, concern in his voice.
"Tired, Sir. Probably been swimming this entire time…Damn lucky to have made it." The woman responded. A cloth was laid over Cassandra - a towel by the feel of it. "Should let her rest, have medical check her over. Doesn't appear to be injured."
"Damn lucky indeed…" The voices were slowly drowned out as Cassandra let exhaustion take her.
Next time? She would just apparate.
When Cassandra woke up, it was to the sound of waves crashing against the shore and the soft hum of activity that came with civilization. After days without it, it was amazing how much background noise we naturally filtered out. Sitting up and rubbing her eyes, she took note of what appeared to be a medical centre of some kind.
It was just like the ones she'd seen in some war movies with her dad. A quickly set up location, with beds, medical equipment, etc. It was set up in one of those army tents - the really big ones - and despite the many rows of beds, she was the only one present. That really showed just how bad the situation was. Were there really so few survivors?
"Ah, Miss Reid, you're awake." An unfamiliar voice called out, and Cassandra turned to see a man in a standard ARes uniform exiting a makeshift office. He had a red cross on his shoulder, signalling his position as a medical officer she guessed.
"H-how long?" Cassandra asked, voice hoarse. The man quickly obtained a glass of water for her, which she accepted and drank deeply from.
"Around a day." He said, grabbing a chart off her bed. "Exhaustion, no surprises there. You were soaked, of course, but surprisingly in good overall health."
No hypothermia, no signs of injury. Suspicious - Cassandra should have considered those, honestly - and clearly a sign of something abnormal. Parahuman, perhaps. Damn. Well, nothing can be done - just play ignorant.
"That's good…right? Do you know what happens now" Cassandra played with her blanket, keeping her gaze down.
"Yeah, that's good." The medical officer placed the chart to the side. "There will be a few people coming in today - government officials - and they'll have questions. I can turn them away if you want, but they're persistent."
That was fast… Nodding, Cassandra held up her empty glass. "I'll see them, I guess…Can I get-?"
"You'll have at least two more, a warm shower, and a hot meal before I let anyone bother you. Doctor's orders." The man nodded and filled the glass.
"Thanks, Doc." She was given a quick smile before he left to get everything set up. At least she wasn't being tossed into the lion's den outright.
Government officials. That was extremely vague. PRT? Guild? Social Services? Or some other group? Given the circumstances, she was leaning more towards the first two rather than the second. Cassandra shoved her nerves down with a quick application of Occlumency, and considered her options.
She needed to play ball, at least on some level. She didn't know what questions they'll have, but guessed they'll be fishing for any signs of Parahuman shenanigans. It was questionable, and probably violated some sort of ethics, coming after a young woman who just had a traumatic experience to interrogate her, but things had…gotten murky in the world of law after Parahuman's came to light.
Something to look into later. Albus had used his knowledge of the legal system in a lot of creative ways during his time. She needed to get familiar with all the laws - Canadian and State ones - to see the grey areas.
The doctor came back a moment later with her food - a warm porridge with cinnamon and a bit of fruit - and another glass of water. Afterwards, she was given a hot shower with some rather boring unscented soaps and a change of clothes that were, roughly, her size. She made sure to keep her coat with her, passing it off as "sentimental value" when anyone gave a questioning look. With her…status…that led to some pitying glances, but they thankfully stayed away from it.
After freshening up and changing, she was escorted to what she guessed had been the harbour master's office at one point, now commandeered for search and rescue purposes. Or, at the moment, a government interrogation. Upon stepping into the room, she stiffened up when she caught sight of a Cape.
Fantasia was, despite her name, not a Cape with powers over sound, magic, or anything of the sort. She actually lucked out and snatched the name early. As far as Cassandra, and the world at large knew, she was simply a low-tier Brute-style Cape. Enhanced physique, better reflexes, that sort of thing. She'd been in The Guild for years, since its foundation and subsequent failure to get off the ground. She wasn't a big name, not even in Canada, but she had been around since the start.
It was obvious why she was here - comfort, and something familiar. Especially to girls her age, at least those that were big into the Cape scene. A Canadian Cape, iconic with her black dress and gold accents - The Guild's spear-pole with ribbon proudly located on her chest. Cassandra always thought the dress was a stupid choice for a melee-focused Cape, but Fantasia had to be doing something right.
She was still active even after nearly two decades, after all.
"Miss Reid? My name is Anna Baker, and you're probably familiar with Fantasia here. Please, have a seat." The well-dressed government official, who had stood as soon as Cassandra entered, said.
"Ok…" Cassandra looked behind her as the door closed, and she made a show of slowly making her way towards the offered chair. "What's this about?"
Once Cassandra had taken a seat, the other two followed suit - though Cassandra did notice, via Albus' experience, that Fantasia was in a position to intercept her. The Cape was here for two purposes, then - to provide that familiar presence, and to fight off a potential Parahuman. Good to know.
"Nothing too serious, Miss Reid - can we call you Cassandra? Thank you. Just a few questions regarding what you remember." The woman - who was definitely PRT, even if she didn't have a marking on her - clicked her pen.
"Questions? I don't know what I can tell you…" Cassandra shrugged, keeping her eyes down.
"That's what we're here to learn, Cassandra. Now, you said you were from Mount Pearl, correct? That's…only a few kilometres from St. John's, right?" At Cassandra's nod, the woman made a note with her pen. "According to Capes that flew over the area while you slept yesterday, there's nothing there. You must have been in the water a long time."
Nothing? That wasn't right. She knew that wasn't right. She had the supplies to prove it. They hadn't found that little island she'd, apparently, made? If they travelled over Mount Pearl, surely they'd seen it…
Unless…
Fidelius charm? How? She'd even said the name, Mount Pearl…Unless that wasn't the Secret. A subconscious Secret that only she knew, yet didn't? Was that possible? Albus' memories didn't reveal anything. This was…new. Uncharted territory. Had magic's possibilities expanded, previous limits broken, with the coming to this world?
That was terrifying. Terrifying and exciting.
"I guess…I just remember swimming, or floating, letting the water carry me. I…didn't really know where I was, or where I was going." Cassandra shrugged, keeping her tone flat.
"What about your parents?" Fantasia asked. Cassandra flinched, and shrugged again, saying nothing. "I see…"
"What's the last thing you remember before swimming, Cassandra?" Anna asked.
"...Water. A wall of water." Her father's panicked eyes meeting her own and watching her home collapse under the wave, crushing him. "Towering over everything."
Cassandra once more praised Occlumency as she pushed down everything. The two women across from her shared a glance, and Cassandra caught Fantasia giving a small shake of her head - barely noticeable if you weren't looking for it. The PRT agent - she had to be an agent - gave a barely perceivable nod.
"...Right. Well, you're lucky to be alive, Cassandra. I'm sorry to say that there's been no sign of others from St. John's, or Mount Pearl. It's…not looking good, there." Anna reached across the table for Cassandra's hand. "That's part of why I'm here, to help you."
Cassandra glanced at the hand, then up at Anna's eyes. The woman did look remorseful, genuinely. She was doing her job, yes, but she wasn't a bad person. She wasn't some evil government official or corrupt agent. Cassandra relaxed a little, and squeezed the hand slightly.
"I…I understand. What do I do…?" At the small squeeze, Anna smiled and nodded - reaching for a folder that Cassandra hadn't been paying attention to.
"Well, naturally you'll have to talk to other people about your…financial situation, in light of…events…But, let's talk about what Canada can do for you, ok?" At Cassandra's nod, the woman opened the folder and cleared her throat. Fantasia relaxed slightly in her seat, but the black and gold clad hero was watching Cassandra carefully.
Her eyes weren't like the PRT agents. The veteran hero, at a glance, appeared friendly and supportive - here to do her role for a young and likely traumatized woman - but her eyes were focused. Analyzing.
Cassandra wondered if she really was just a low-tier Brute like the rumours and theories suggested.
