The Great Hall was unusually quiet in the early morning, as most students were still recovering from the Halloween Feast. Catherine came in and sat at the end of the Gryffindor table, then poured herself a glace of orange juice. Her eyes felt irritated and dry from wearing the contact lenses the previous night. The young witch was pretty frustrated with herself. She hadn't made any significant progress with Slughorn. On the contrary, she had made a fool of herself by singing in front of a crowd that wouldn't have given her a second glance on any other day of the week. To add to the disappointment, she didn't even have good time at the party.
'It was like the whole House of Slytherin was determined to bother me last night!' – thought the young witch sulkily, spreading strawberry jam on her toast – 'I wonder what had gotten into Snape. Didn't he know about Volumnia and Tulia before? Lily probably didn't want to escalate things with his classmates. I doubt he would do anything against people from respectable pure-blood families, though. Whatever… I have bigger problems than Snape's social standing in Slytherin…'
"Here she is - the most convincing Christine in the history of Hogwarts!" – Lily's voice startled Catherine, pulling her back to reality.
"No need to mock me." – growled the black-haired girl.
"What are you talking about?" – asked the other witch, looking confused – "Everyone thought you were amazing! Valeria Malfoy couldn't come even close, despite transfiguring her hair and eyes 'like a proper witch.' She was green with envy, Daisy! You should watch your back, by the way."
"She was the one who insisted on singing in the first place!" – exclaimed Catherine, irritated – "How is it my fault she was not as good as she thought herself to be?"
"Of course, it's not your fault!" – chirped Lily, grabbing a few toasts for herself – "They are all ridiculous! I, for once, had a really good time with Greg and Frankie. What did you do? I thought I saw you with Severus for a minute, but I was probably mistaken."
"Sadly, you were not." – sighed the other girl – "He wanted to know what had happened last year in the girls' bathroom."
Lily's face turned pale, and she grabbed her friend's hand frantically. "What did you tell him?"
"The truth." – answered Catherine flatly – "What's the problem? He obviously knew already."
"I messed up and told him the other day when we had a fight." – groaned Lily – "Knowing him, he's going to get into trouble seeking vengeance. But he has such a hard time fitting into his House. This will hurt him much more than whatever he plans to do to Volumnia and Tullia!"
"Are things that bad?" – asked Catherine genuinely curious about the dynamics in Slytherin.
"Yeah! They have this hierarchy. It's all about from which pure-blood family you come from and how much influence you have. For people like Severus… it's really tough, especially because he doesn't have money and he's not… well, he has issues with making friends in general. They don't care how brilliant he is…it's all about superficial stuff and they can be truly vicious with people who are at the 'bottom' of the House. I'm sure he doesn't tell me half of what they do to him!"
The black-haired witch glanced at her distressed friend and, oddly enough, found herself sympathising with Snape. While things between them have always been rocky, to say the least - they couldn't even spend five minutes together without bickering – watching him interact with Lily revealed a side of him that didn't grate on her nerves as much. Honestly, she could even learn to tolerate him if it wasn't for his chronic hatred towards Muggle-borns. Ironically, his own housemates didn't treat him much better than 'Mudbloods', and from Catherine's perspective, no one should endure such mistreatment merely due to their bloodline or the wealth their parents happened to possess.
'I guess that's what they call overcompensation.' – the Gryffindor girl noted mentally – 'The Slytherins torture Snape for being half-blood, hence, he behaves terribly towards the Muggle-borns, especially those who have what he doesn't, like money.'
A sharp pain interrupted the third-year's thoughts. She looked up and realised the mail had arrived. A big brown Barn-owl had nudged her finger impatiently.
"The fuck! No need to be so fussy!" – hissed Catherine and put her injured finger in her mouth while using her other hand to untie the note attached to the bird's leg. It was a small piece of parchment on which thin, slender letters formed the following message:
Dear Catherine,
I would like to start our planned lessons on Monday at 8 p.m. I hope you enjoyed your Halloween festivities!
Yours sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
P.S. The Gargoyle on the fifth floor and you share the same taste in candies.
"Got anything interesting?" – asked Lily, casting a curious glance at the parchment – "Does it have anything to do with your disappearance from the party after your singing number?"
"No!" – Catherine replied hastily – "It's from Hagrid about the surprise cake for Sirius that I'm going to bake tomorrow. He found all the food colouring I needed."
"Sure." – said the red-headed girl with a sly smile – "So you're not watching the Quidditch match tomorrow?"
"I was told it's obligatory for me to attend." – chuckled Catherine, crumpling the piece of parchment and shoving it into her pocket – "I'll bake the cake after the match is over. There's time for everything!"
"How much longer is it going to take?!" – moaned Catherine, leaning against Remus. After yet another close race between James and Elara Hawthorne, the Seeker for Ravenclaw, the tricky Snitch had vanished from sight.
"It's been three hours already." – said the Gryffindor boy after checking his old wristwatch – "They must be exhausted by now. I know I am. How are you doing, Peter?"
The short blond boy grinned with his thumbs up. Leading the Gryffindor cheer squad, he had lost his voice shortly after the second hour, although his enthusiasm was still intact.
"I really can't wait any longer. I left the cake dough in Hagrid's hut, but if it stays there too long, the cake won't be fluffy at all!" – complained the young witch, staring frustrated at Archibald Smith, one of the Ravenclaw's Chasers, who was complaining to Madame Hooch, the referee, about Marvolo Wood sending a Bludger his way, when he was not playing with the Quaffle.
"You should go then." – suggested Remus – "You may not be able to help them up there, but you do have control over Sirius' birthday present."
With a final, regretful glance, Catherine left the stands and headed towards the Gamekeeper's hut at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Hagrid was already waiting for her, as eager as ever about their baking lessons. The third-year had to admit she truly admired the giant's dedication and good spirit, as well as his stomach, since he was able to eat everything he made with quite a gusto.
After putting both the rock cakes and Sirius' birthday surprise in the oven, Catherine and Hagrid took a breather, enjoying a cup of tea.
"Do you think the game is over?" – asked the girl, glancing through the window.
"Who knows? I remember a few years back, a Quidditch final goin' on for ten whole hours. It was downright brutal, it was!" – shrugged the Keeper of the Keys.
"I sincerely hope it won't last that long." – laughed the young witch.
"Aren't ya keen on givin' it a go yourself, playin' with yer pals on the team?" – asked Hagrid with a smile under his bushy beard.
"I don't know." – admitted the Gryffindor contemplatively – "I do like flying a lot and I think I'm good at it, but on the other hand, being part of your House's team demands a lot of extra time for practice. Besides, I think they're doing just fine. I'm sure we're going to win the cup this year!"
"Bout time, it is!" – agreed Hagrid.
As late afternoon settled, Catherine finally made her way back to the Gryffindor tower. Decorating Sirius' birthday cake had taken more time than she had anticipated, and the task of safely carrying the sizable confection back to the castle, shrouded under a cloche, proved to be quite a physical exercise.
'Why did I make it so big and heavy?!' – thought the young witch, finally reaching the portrait of the Fat Lady – "Phoenix tears."
The noise emanating from inside almost made Catherine take a step back. The party was clearly in full swing, and amidst the revelry, nobody paid attention to her. She managed to get the cake to her bedroom safely and cast a preservation spell on it to keep it fresh.
After a quick adjustment of her clothes and a hasty fix to her hair, Catherine descended the stairs, eager to hear more details about the end of the game. James and Sirius were at the heart of the celebration, surrounded by some enthusiastic sixth and seventh-years.
"I remember I really thought that was it when Hawthorne dived for the Snitch!" – shouted Sirius above the noise – "She couldn't believe it when you managed to snatch it just under her nose, mate!"
"You truly have a remarkable talent, Potter!" – said Kingsley Shacklebolt, a tall, muscular sixth-year, patting James on the back.
"It wasn't that hard, honestly!" – the young wizard laughed, ruffling his already messy hair – "The entire team was amazing! Sirius scored some spectacular goals!"
"Damn right he did!" – confirmed Patricia Rakepick, smiling charmingly at the Gryffindor's Chaser, and winked at him.
"Thanks, Patricia! Too bad that the game was not that interesting for some people. But I guess, to each their own." – remarked Sirius. In this moment, Catherine realised that he knew she was there and that he was also not happy with her absence from the stands.
Feeling wronged on multiple fronts, the black-haired witch turned away from the noisy crowd, finding solace in a dark corner as she indulged in self-pity. After sulking for half an hour, the girl decided to retreat to her dormitory to work on some homework. Just as she settled in, she felt a playful tug on one of her braids.
"Why are you sitting here alone, Flame?" – James inquired, taking a seat on the floor beside his friend – "Haven't you learnt not to pay any attention to Sirius by now? He talks before he thinks."
"It's not fair!" – Catherine grunted – "I needed to leave and finish his blasted birthday cake!"
"I know; Remus told me." – James reassured, patting the girl's hand – "He's going to regret it so much when he sees the cake tomorrow. Just don't mind him."
"It's a bit hard when he purposefully tries to reprimand me in front of other people!" – complained the witch, glancing at Patricia Rakepick, who was still talking to Sirius and laughing wholeheartedly.
"Just pretend you haven't seen or heard anything." – advised James, with a naughty twinkle in his hazel eyes – "At the end of the day, I think he was mostly disappointed you hadn't had the chance to see him naked again in the changing room after the match!"
Sirius Black stared in awe at the impressive mountain of whipped cream and caramel in front of him, crowned with what appeared to be a chocolate Quaffle almost in real size. He shifted his gaze, first catching James's grin, then meeting Remus's 'I told you so' expression, and finally, finding Catherine seated with her back turned towards him.
"Is this for me?" – he asked tentatively.
"Well, considering how much time Flame spent making it yesterday, I hope you'd at least share with us!" – chuckled James, tilting his head towards the black-haired girl with a distinctive plead in his eyes.
Fortunately, his friend quickly understood the message. With a deep sigh, he approached the young witch and squatted next to her chair.
"You won't be mad at me on my birthday, right?" – he asked gently, receiving an angry growl in response. Undeterred, the young wizard continued – "Come on! I didn't want to be mean yesterday! I was just frustrated I couldn't share our victory with you right away! You can punish me if it's going to make you feel better! Or I can punish myself! I'll try to pet this demon Kneazle of yours! How about that?"
Despite her determination to be cold and distant, Catherine couldn't help it - a hint of a smile slowly appeared on her lips.
"This means more work for me because you'd be incapacitated, and I'd need to feed you myself after Nyx is done." – she replied indifferently, but Sirius already knew he was out of the woods.
"How do you eat this?" – asked Remus, pointing at the chocolate Quaffle, once the five friends were gathered around the table where the cake was placed.
"You open it first." – explained the witch, passing a knife to the birthday boy.
"Ah? Is there anything inside?" – he asked enthusiastically and carefully broke the reddish shell to discover a second brown globe inside – "Wait a second! Is that a Bludger?!"
"Yes, but don't be alarmed! It's still made of chocolate!" – Catherine chuckled.
"Does this mean… No way!" – exclaimed Sirius excitedly, using the knife to make a small opening inside the Bludger – "There's a Snitch inside as well!"
A small crowd had gathered in the Common Room to witness Catherine's culinary masterpiece. Since Sirius was a generous soul by nature, he quickly distributed his birthday cake, leaving the biggest piece for himself.
"You really outdid yourself, Daisy!" – Lily praised her friend after receiving her share of the cake – "Was it hard to make?"
"Insanely!" – responded the black-haired girl – "Especially because halfway through, we needed to extinguish Hagrid's rock cakes that caught fire."
"I hope it tastes as good as it looks." – said Greg, who had appeared behind Lily.
"Nobody's forcing you to eat it!" – snapped Sirius, but nevertheless, he handled his teammate a plate. Then, he froze, staring at the bracelet on Greg's wrist – "Is this from Flame?"
"Yeah, so?" – shrugged Greg, having a mouthful of cake.
"Just great!" – snapped Sirius and left the Common Room in front of everyone's astonished faces.
"What happened?" – Greg asked innocently.
"Like you don't know!" – Catherine hissed and ran after Sirius.
'Where did he go?' – the girl thought, wandering around the corridors until she finally saw a half-open door. The young wizard was sitting on top of a desk in an empty room, glaring through the window.
"Hey!" – said the black-haired witch, approaching her friend.
"You know, Flame, growing up, I rarely felt special." – said Sirius without turning back – "My parents were never happy with anything I did. Everything was about my duty as the oldest son of the Black family. I needed to do everything according to some stupid made-up rules. It was such a relief to come to Hogwarts. Here, people like me for me and don't regard me as some kind of a prize stallion that needs to win horse races and produce pure-blood offspring with blind obedience."
"After I met you, James, Remus, and Peter, I finally felt like I could be myself. For the first time ever, I felt genuinely special. Merlin, even when you were scolding me for touching you without permission, I felt this unique bond between us. I know it's stupid and perhaps childish, but since you gifted me that friendship bracelet, I've never taken it off. It was as if you finally acknowledged our connection, and now I see you've given one to Greg McMahon of all people!"
"Sirius," – Catherine took her friend's hand it hers and forced him to look her in the eyes – "I'm truly sorry that you're upset. I understand your feelings more than you can imagine! And I do apologise that this present I kind of owed Greg ended up causing you such distress. However, you should not, and must not compare yourself to him in any form or shape! What we have… you know we started a bit awkward, but I quickly realised you and James, and Remus… you are my chosen family! No amount of friendship bracelets would ever change that!"
"What about Peter?" – smirked Sirius.
"Fine, Peter as well, although maybe he could be part of my chosen extended family." – the witch rolled her eyes.
"It's probably not fitting for a fourteen-year-old to throw a tantrum over a few pieces of leather. I hope you can forgive me. I guess it was because McMahon has always rubbed me the wrong way. It's just so unfair he gets everything that he wants, being born with a silver spoon in his mouth and all. I've seen him at King's Cross with his parents, you know? They appear as the perfect family; it just makes me wanna throw up!"
"What appears to be perfect rarely is." – said Catherine softly – "But you're right that a fourteen-year-old wizard should do a better job controlling his emotions."
"I'm not very good at that." – sighed Sirius, standing up and hugging Catherine, resting his chin on top of her head – "The only time I'm actually perfectly in control is when I fly."
'When did he grow up so much?!' – pondered the young witch but didn't move away.
"You're wise beyond your years, Miss Plantier!" – chuckled Sirius from somewhere above – "It's hard to believe you'll be turning just thirteen in ten days."
"The perks of starting school earlier." – shrugged the girl.
"You've never told us why you did though." – noted the wizard.
"My magic was causing a lot of problems in the Muggle school I attended, so Dumbledore himself made an exception, allowing me to start studying at Hogwarts earlier." – Catherine recited the answer her parents had made her learn by heart a long time ago.
"It must have been cool being in a Muggle school." – Sirius smiled dreamily – "I know Muggles face a lot of difficulties in their everyday lives, but at the same time, they appear to relish their freedom greatly, despite being clueless about the world. I've gained a deeper appreciation for their qualities thanks to taking Muggle Studies. As a matter of fact, I'm quite fascinated by some objects I read about. Take motorcycles, for instance... I bet it's a lot of fun to ride one! And with a little tinkering, I believe you can enchant it to fly! Wouldn't it be brilliant if you have such a motorcycle!"
"Maybe for your next birthday!" – the young witch smiled, took Sirius' hand, and led him back to the Gryffindor Tower.
Monday evening at eight o'clock, Catherine McMahon was standing in front of a rather ugly stone gargoyle. Though she had anticipated these lessons for a while, now that they were within her grasp, apprehension set in. The thought of using true fire terrified the young witch. Ever since discovering her inclination to fire during the testing, she couldn't shake the nagging feeling of impurity buried within her.
While the knowledge of the demon sealed inside her had been with Catherine as far back as memory allowed, it remained somewhat abstract. Initially, she regarded it as a matter of fact, with little to remind her about the curse on her family except for occasional instances of hearing haunting female laughter. However, everything changed after she used fire to burn her brother several years ago. For months, Catherine grappled with heightened sensitivity to every thought, feeling, and movement, wondering if the demon would break the seal and take control of her body. Although this didn't happen, she couldn't escape the heart-wrenching image of her brother screaming in pain, lying on the scorched grass. Concealing her emotions hadn't produced the expected results, but it was Professor Dumbledore who prompted her to reconsider whether their approach might have been incorrect.
Since her arrival at Hogwarts, the girl felt much better. While she had unintentionally set Snape on fire once, the incident wasn't severe, and he emerged unharmed, unlike Greg. For these reasons, learning how to use elemental magic worried Catherine. In her mind, immersing herself in her fire nature and manipulating true fire could increase the risk of incidents, unless she rapidly gained control over her powers, which was not very likely. Typically, it took at least a year for an Elementalist to be deemed generally safe when using their powers around others. However, the girl was uncertain if the timeframe might be longer for Fire Mages. Information on the subject was scarce.
"Dragonfire Delights!" – Catherine said with a sigh, and the stone gargoyle sprang to life, hopping aside as the wall behind split into two, revealing a spiral staircase going upward like a Muggle escalator. The young witch paused for a second before the gleaming oak door and knocked using the brass knocker in the shape of a griffin.
The door opened, and the third-year entered the Headmaster's office – a large and beautiful circular room full of curious unknown devices, placed on spindle-legged tables. The walls were adorned with portraits of the previous headmasters and headmistresses, most of whom were staring at the newcomer with obvious interest.
Albus Dumbledore occupied a substantial claw-footed desk, with the Sorting Hat perched on a shelf behind him. Lifting his head, he greeted the Gryffindor girl with a warm smile behind his half-moon glasses. The glow from the candles illuminated his wrinkled face and long silver beard, casting shadows on the glossy midnight blue robes adorned with golden stars that draped the Headmaster. Similar to their initial meeting, Catherine sensed the shifting magic around her, affirming Dumbledore's standing as one of the most formidable wizards in history. Despite this, his blue eyes exuded tranquillity and friendliness, immediately putting the young witch at ease.
"Good evening, Catherine." – the wizard greeted her politely and motioned towards one of the comfortable chairs in front of his desk – "I hope you enjoyed your dinner. The Yorkshire Pudding was especially delicious tonight!"
"I wouldn't know because I ate Lancashire Hotpot." – the girl replied, mentally kicking herself for once again appearing impolite and sloppy before the person she expected to teach and guide her.
"A fine choice as well." – smiled the Headmaster, his eyes twinkling merrily – "I would like you to feel at ease with me here. You might be wondering why your lessons haven't started earlier. I have been carefully observing your progress at Hogwarts, both academically and in terms of your personal relationships and I would like to say that you exceeded my expectations."
"How so?" – asked Catherine, surprised, earning another smile from the older man.
"Well, for someone who was confined at home, never interacting with people outside of your family, you proved to have quite a gift for making friends." – Dumbledore explained – "Your adaptation to using a wand has been commendable, and I thought it would be a waste if you didn't get the chance to enjoy yourself and develop at your own pace for a while. I understand that things have not always been easy with your fellow classmates, and the teaching staff would certainly appreciate it if you can exercise some restraint with your impulses in the future, especially when students from the Slytherin House are concerned..."
"It's not me who started it!" – the girl couldn't help but interject, blushing and quickly lowering her gaze. Dumbledore chuckled, unfazed, and continued in his wise and soothing tone.
"In such situations, I believe it is important who chose to end the vicious circle. Still, I won't put unrealistic expectations on you, although it would certainly be beneficial if you could be a positive influence on your fellow Gryffindors."
Catherine didn't answer. She knew that Dumbledore was right, and she and the boys had caused a lot of trouble, not to mention all the school rules and laws they were planning to break in the future. However, the young witch decided to keep this to herself.
"Focusing on the topic at hand," – the Headmaster continued – "your father has already informed me that your test showed your inclination to fire, a revelation that, of course, did not come as a surprise."
Catherine nodded silently, her gaze fixed on the floor, once again grappling with an uneasy feeling.
"I should tell you that while your parents insist that you start your elemental training immediately, I believe it is essential to consider your perspective on the matter." – Dumbledore remarked, prompting the young witch to look up in surprise.
"I thought it was best to start as early as possible! I don't want to endanger those around me!"
"My dear child," – said the wizard kindly – "being inclined to fire is not a curse. Quite the opposite! Yes, mastering true fire is undeniably challenging, and it could be dangerous. Fire Mages carry a great responsibility due to the unpredictable nature of their element. However, it does not suggest that you pose a greater threat than any other individual with a strong affinity for their element."
"I am mostly afraid that in my case… that the strength of my element is linked to the demon, influencing how the element manifests." – confessed the young witch, finally finding the courage to voice some of her biggest fears.
"I think you are greatly misinformed about the nature of your power, Catherine." – said Dumbledore gently – "It's not surprising. There are very few Fire Mages. Besides you and me, I am not aware of any others in Great Britain. However, I would like you to remember one thing: true fire is not pure destruction, as it's often portrayed. It possesses a dual nature. In fact, some records documented instances of Fire Mages possessing a rare healing ability. They could control true fire with such precision that they could inject it inside a person, destroying black magic or poison without harming the patient."
Catherine's jade-green eyes grew wide with astonishment. She moved closer to the edge of her chair, completely mesmerised by the Headmaster's words.
"So, you're saying that true fire has sort of purifying effect as well?"
"Exactly!" – nodded the wizard – "True fire is the essence of fire, the purest form in which it exists in nature. Humans born with such a gift learnt how to wield it from the ancient dragons who once guarded it inside their bodies, unlike their present-day descendants. It is the most destructive of the elements, capable of burning even magic itself. Yet, simultaneously, it can serve as a shield and a purifier. Ancient magic rituals were crafted to draw from true fire, creating the most potent protection barriers. Magical creatures like dragons, phoenixes, and salamanders, all of which bear traces of true fire, can withstand dark magic and even neutralise it. This is why phoenix tears hold such a tremendous healing power."
"Conversely, dark arts cannot tap into true fire. The Fiendfyre Curse comes close, but it forcefully extracts only the destructive part, creating an abomination in the process. That's why it's often impossible to control once unleashed. What I am asserting here is that a demon, as a creature of the dark, cannot access the essence of nature. What it employs is Fiendfyre, and honestly, you being a Fire Mage might prove to be an additional line of protection against the demon breaking through the barriers that confine it."
Catherine realised her mouth was agape and promptly shut it. Her head buzzed with all the new information, and a rare sense of hope enveloped her. This hope differed from her usual self-protective state of refusal to contemplate the future because she was uncertain if she had one. It was a genuine hope that she could maintain control over her body and soul.
"Sir… do you think I would be strong enough to do this?" – she asked softly.
"I do!" – immediately answered the wizard – "As you probably know, we classify Elementalists in three categories or types per element, depending on their strength. When a person shows their elemental inclination as powerfully as you do, it's safe to assume you do not fall in the first category, which is the weakest so to speak. For Fire Mages, it means you are not a Salamander type. Unfortunately, we can't know for sure how strong you are until a certain point in your training when the Price will appear."
"The Price?" – asked Catherine, confused.
"Ah, yes, this is indeed probably something you are not aware of, but you do need to keep in mind at all times." – said Dumbledore, rolling up his right sleeve. He closed his eyes just for a second, and when he opened them, they were gleaming, casting an ominous red glow. The Headmaster lifted his arm with his hand upward, and a ball of scarlet flames formed above his palm. Catherine couldn't even breathe; she felt shivers all over her body, but she couldn't cast her gaze away from the fireball. She could almost hear it calling her name, inviting her to touch it and feel its intense and all-consuming energy.
Then the young witch finally saw what Dumbledore wanted to show her. His right arm was covered with thin streams of fire, forming strange lines, resembling some kind of a tattoo - fiery phoenixes - running all the way up and hiding beneath the sleeve of the robe.
The fireball vanished abruptly, and the tattoo became pitch black. Catherine looked up at the smiling wizard whose eyes were once again blue behind the glasses.
"Don't worry, it's going to completely disappear in a few minutes." – the wizard explained when he realised the girl was still staring at his arm – "Using the essence of nature has a price, my dear girl. You cannot surpass your own limits. If I continue using my power the Price would have spread to my other arm, my legs, torso and eventually my face."
"And then?" – asked Catherine, somehow already knowing the answer.
"And then I die." – calmly responded Dumbledor – "I would be consumed by my own fire. It rarely happens. Most of us are very much aware of our limits. The fireball you saw drew just a bit of true fire; the rest was regular fire. You will learn how to put the right amount you need, depending on what you're trying to do."
"Sounds very complicated." – admitted the girl, discouraged.
"We often act on instinct. Opening yourself to your element allows you to effortlessly draw fire from your surroundings. Elementalists predominantly harness what already exists. It's akin to a standard Fire-making Spell—not creating fire but attracting it from the environment and enabling the wizard or witch to direct it. However, Fire Mages have the ability to create fire, or more precisely, the essence of fire known as true fire. Through this, you can shield yourself from spells; you can vanquish dark creatures like Inferi, which ordinary fire cannot stop. In theory, you could even block Unforgivable Curses."
"What do you mean 'in theory'? I thought you can't stop the Killing Curse?" – asked Catherine anxiously.
"This is not entirely accurate. Ancient magic was employed to counteract the Killing Curse. The problem is that it requires a sacrifice; therefore, someone still dies due to the curse, even though not the intended target. As I said, in theory, true fire could be used to block the Avada Kedavra Curse. However, the concentration needs to be so dense it might be impossible. I am certain I could not achieve it." – explained the Headmaster.
"So, if I understand correctly, you believe that I belong to one of the two higher types of Fire Mages, but there is no way to know for certain until this tattoo starts to appear?"
"Yes!" – confirmed Dumbledore – "The Price manifests when an Elementalist reaches maturity power-wise and could have access to their full potential. However, in your case, I am certain that you are a Phoenix type, as am I. I assure you that this would place you on par with the Highest types of Water, Air and Earth Mages - at least in terms of raw power. This is crucial when you face the aristocrats as Lady Catherine McMahon."
Catherine was a bit shocked. She realised she had become unfamiliar with using her own name and title, especially inside Hogwarts. Simultaneously, the girl felt an annoying pang of guilt for lying to her closest people – a feeling she had become so familiar with these days. The closer she got to her friends, the heavier the burden was. Thinking of herself solely as Catherine Plantier seemed to help a little, but now, she was brought back to reality by the Headmaster himself. To distract herself from these thoughts, she asked:
"Why wouldn't you consider me belonging to the most powerful type of Fire Mages?"
Dumbledore thought for a moment, then spoke slowly.
"The most powerful types of Elementalists are naturally the rarest among their respective ranks. When we talk about Fire Mages, who are rare in general, the most powerful ones belong to the Dragon type, and they are just a few people in a generation. Among them, we have records of only one woman. For some reason, female Fire Mages are generally an exception, probably due to the way we deal with the element, as you would see for yourself."
"But there was a female Fire Mage who was a Dragon Type?" – asked Catherine, quite curious.
"Indeed. The only one known was the witch Pyrrhia, who lived more than two thousand years ago." – said the wizard – "And I would sincerely hope you do not turn out to be the second one."
"Why?" – inquired the girl, slightly offended.
"Let's talk about this another time." – answered the Professor cryptically – "What I would like you to tell me now, Catherine, is if you feel ready to start learning elemental magic? As I explained, I don't perceive any danger if we wait for a while until you are mentally ready and you grow up some more. This doesn't mean we won't work on something else. As you are aware, elemental magic is just one of the things I agreed to teach you."
Catherine studied Dumbledore's face, sensing for the first time in her life that there was a grown-up who genuinely cared about her thoughts and wanted her cooperation instead of blind obedience. She was eager not to disappoint him, appreciating the choice he presented—the chance to learn what she truly desired.
'Am I ready to use true fire?' – pondered the young witch, briefly recalling her brother's weary face after training with their father. Then, once again, the picture of Greg's burnt body surfaced before her eyes.
"Before we start my training in elemental magic, could you possibly teach me how to heal people?" – the girl asked decisively.
Surprise flickered for a moment on the Headmaster's face, but then he smiled warmly at the black-haired Gryffindor with burning green eyes in front of him.
"If this is your wish. I must warn you, though, that I do not possess that healing ability I mentioned earlier. Nevertheless, I believe there is another form of healing, described in ancient texts, that might be well-suited for someone with your talents."
"I thought you would teach me some spells." – said Catherine, a look of confusion crossing her face.
"I may not be as skilled in healing spells and potions as Madame Pomfrey," – explained the wizard, winking at the third-year – "but you can still learn those from books and even ask Poppy to explain to you what you cannot understand. What I have in mind is a form of wandless magic which relies on using one's magic and mixing it with vital power. This yields much more comprehensive healing effect, even in cases when spells cannot provide complete relief. I am confident that you can learn this because you have a natural sensitivity to magic energy, as evidenced by your ability to invent spells at an early age."
"Then let's start right away!" – insisted the young witch impatiently, jumping to her feet.
Dumbledore stood up and retrieved his wand. With a sharp movement, he slid it across his left hand, leaving a thin incision with a few drops of blood already visible. The wizard lifted his injured hand in front of Catherine's eyes, and a pale blue aura formed around the incision. The young witch watched intensely, sensing Dumbledore's magic quite well. It was almost physical - like she could taste it, feel it, and hear it at the same time. It reminded her of a hot sunny day in the middle of summer. However, there was something else.
'Mixing it with your vital power he said.' – thought the witch, uncertain how to achieve this effect.
The wound on the Headmaster's hand had vanished without leaving the slightest trace. He smiled at the determined focus on his student's face.
"There are three steps to achieving self-healing, arguably easier than healing another person. First, you need to learn how to envelop the wound with your magic, concentrating it evenly. Second, you need to become aware of your vital power. Third, you must learn how to mix them both together."
For the next half-hour, Catherine immersed herself in trying to follow Dumbledore's three steps. Concentrating her magical power at a specific spot was easy enough. However, the other two steps presented a challenge.
"This is enough for tonight. I'll send you a message regarding our next meeting by owl." – concluded the Headmaster, glancing at the young witch's sweaty face – "You should continue practicing, but I would like you to promise me you won't hurt yourself on purpose."
"You have my word, Sir." – Catherine quickly assured the wizard. As she turned around to leave, her eyes caught sight of the golden perch behind the door of Dumbledore's office. On top of the perch, there was...
"You have a phoenix as a familiar!" – exclaimed the girl in awe, carefully approaching the red and gold bird, whose feathers were faintly glowing.
"Fawkes is much more than a familiar." – said the wizard, joining Catherine as she admired the magical creature from a safe distance – "He appeared in front of me, heavily wounded, while I was also in great pain. I suppose you could say that we saved each other, and we have been inseparable ever since."
The phoenix lifted his head, and his black eyes pierced the girl. He gently cooed and stretched his long, graceful neck.
"I believe Fawkes took a liking to you, Catherine!" – smiled Dumbledore – "You can pet him if you wish."
'True fire can't be that horrible if it's in the core of such a beautiful creature!' – thought the Gryffindor while gently caressing the soft feathers of the phoenix.
"No parties!" – Catherine said wearily during breakfast. This marked the third occasion in two days she had to remind her friends that she didn't want a birthday celebration – "I've had more than enough time in the spotlight recently. Please, can't we just have a quiet evening hanging out together in the Common Room."
"Fine, grandma!" – answered Sirius, snatching the girl's schoolbag – "Come on, we'll be late for Charms."
"I can carry my stuff." – the young witch mumbled sulkily, following her friends out of the Great Hall.
"Sure, you can - once you stop being stubborn and go to Madame Pomfrey. I don't know why you are so clumsy these days!" – said Sirius.
The black-haired girl rolled her eyes behind her classmates' backs. While she wasn't intentionally hurting herself, it was true that she suffered quite a few incidents in the last week or so – from tumbling down the stairs to cutting her hand while attempting to peel a Sopophorous bean during their last Potions class.
Though she had promised Dumbledore not to hurt herself purposely to practice healing magic, Catherine saw these accidents as valuable learning opportunities. This way, the young witch could stay true to her promise and simultaneously gain some experience with real wounds.
'I guess my clumsiness might not really be a pure coincidence.' – concluded the girl while trying to focus her attention to her wound.
Unfortunately, the attempts to mix her magic with vital power remained fruitless. Consequently, the cut on her hand persisted, making everyday tasks problematic. Therefore, the third-year wasn't thrilled about the upcoming Potions class.
'That's what I need – to be bested by Snape on my birthday!' – she thought bitterly.
To her utter surprise, however, Professor Slughorn was incredibly accommodating.
"Catherine, my girl, is that nasty cut still there?! Merlin, you should go see Poppy! Even the most talented Potion Masters have an occasional accident or two. I myself once almost burnt my entire hand with a splash of Polyjuice Potion! There's no pride in suffering for making a small mistake!"
Then, he provided the Gryffindor with a set of ingredients for brewing a Confusing Concoction, which were already prepared for usage. This allowed the Catherine to finish before everybody else, spending the last fifteen minutes of the class enjoying Snape's sullen face and occasional mutters about 'people who would do anything to go ahead in class, even exploit their mediocre singing abilities.'
"It seems that you've already received your birthday present, Daisy." – chuckled Lily when the class was over, and Snape hastily left the classroom.
"You have a birthday today?" – asked Slughorn, who was collecting the leftover baneberries from the tables – "Allow me to wish you a very happy birthday, my dearest girl! I hope you continue bringing us joy with your beautiful voice and brilliant mind!"
Catherine smiled politely, trying to ignore Lily, who was giggling behind her cauldron.
"You know, I have a book that I acquired a long time ago from one of my old aunts. I think it might be a fun read for you!" – exclaimed the Potion Master, clapping his hands. He quickly walked into his office and returned with a thin book whose original colour had probably been pink at some point in time but currently appeared as a mixture of brown and beige.
"The Potion Guide of the Witch?" – read Catherine, confused.
"It's a rather amusing, old-fashioned book that was considered a manual for house-witches for 'handling' their husbands. It contains some truly crafty potions. I think it would be interesting for you, coming from a Muggle family, to have a peek at what our society used to be like."
Catherine sincerely doubted she would find anything interesting but nevertheless took the book with a lot of appreciation and gratitude.
"Oh, you are quite welcome!" – said the professor, touched by the third-year's profound gratefulness – "It's not much of a birthday present, but of course, we could celebrate it more thoroughly during the Christmas party I organise in mid-December! I hope both you and Lily could make it, and you could sing for us again, my dear!"
"Of course!" – the two girls agreed immediately.
'Well, it's another chance for me to sweet-talk Slughorn into giving me instructions on the Animagi potion.' – thought the young witch, casually browsing through the book during dinner.
Suddenly, her eyes widened in surprise. She threw away her fork and read in concentration for a few minutes.
"I understand you not wanting a party, but reading during dinner on your birthday? It's a bit much!" – complained James, who was sitting next to Catherine.
"I found a way!" – she whispered, pointing at one of the old pages, covered with yellow spots.
"Bacchus Bliss Elixir?" – read the boy, confused.
"It's listed as a hangover prevention. You put it in the wine, and you can drink as much as you want without having any symptoms the next day." – explained Catherine – "However, the author here suggests a slight modification which would also make the person who drinks the elixir - I presume the poor husband of the witch owning the book - very suggestable to all kinds of ideas. And the best part is that he's not going to remember anything the next day!"
"You want to drug Slughorn?!" – asked Sirius, who was seated across the table – "I like you more and more with every day!"
"It's a suitable way to handle a Potion Master, is it not?" – asked the witch with a sly smile, adding – "It's not very hard to make. It will take approximately three hours. I can brew it at Hagrid's next week, and I will find a way to make Slughorn drink it at the Christmas party!"
"See? I told you everything was going to turn out fine!" – grinned Sirius – "There was no point in sulking for days after Halloween. You almost ruined your birthday present!"
"How so?" – asked the girl, blinking.
"I couldn't draw a portrait with your frowning face!" – laughed Sirius and handled his friend a rolled parchment. Catherine quickly opened it and gasped when she saw a very accurate portrait of hers sketched with what appeared to be charcoal.
"You made this yourself?!" – she exclaimed still in awe.
"It's nothing special. You just appear kind of picturesque when you are concentrated on a task." – chuckled the young wizard – "Do you like it?"
"I love it!" – Catherine smiled brightly, then stood up, walked around the table, and hugged the surprised artist, kissing him on the cheek.
"I got your message." – Catherine said, entering the empty Common Room at three in the morning.
"Well, while technically it's not your birthday anymore, I couldn't just skip it. Unfortunately, you are constantly surrounded by people!" – Greg explained, gesturing to the seat next to him on one of the comfortable red sofas.
"Look who's talking - the Heir of Hogwarts with a whole designated entourage!" – answered the girl mockingly as she took the free spot.
"Nevertheless, happy birthday, my dear sister! Welcome officially to your teenage years!" – smirked the wizard and hugged his sibling.
"Thanks!" – answered Catherine hastily and suddenly her face lit up – "I don't see any presents!"
"Well, that's because I don't want your jealous boyfriends jumping on me for giving you a gift!" – Greg replied sulkily. Sirius was still not talking to him, except for occasional grunts during Quidditch practice – "How about I buy you something when we go to London for Christmas?"
"We're going to London for Christmas?" – asked the young witch, surprised.
"Ah, yeah, just for the 24th though. Grandpa's going to be in town, but he won't have much time since he's travelling to Iceland."
"Jeez, thanks for the update!"- Catherine snapped – "I'm always the last to know. Anyway, I will forgive you both this and the absence of a gift if you do something for me!"
"What do you need?" – asked the boy with suspicion.
"I need you to acquire a bottle of Dad's house-elf wine and give it to me." – stated the girl, disregarding her brother's shocked face – "It's not for me. I'm gifting it to somebody."
"And how, pray tell, am I supposed to do that?" – grumbled Greg, scratching his head – "We are not allowed to receive alcohol, tobacco, or any opioids by owl! You know there are spells preventing it around the school!"
"Up to you!" – shrugged the young witch – "Just be sure I get it before Slughorn's party in December. I will count it as a Christmas present too."
Catherine jumped from the couch, and jolted towards the girls' dormitory, leaving her very annoyed brother to solve the puzzle of how to smuggle house-elf wine into Hogwarts without being caught.