Author's note: Please be warned that the chapter contains intense domestic violence. Proceed with caution.
Christmas at Hogwarts had always been a special and magical time. Despite the common choice among students to return home for the holidays, the castle transformed into a festive wonderland. The Great Hall boasted twelve majestic Christmas trees, each adorned uniquely with golden pinecones, vibrant red berries, never-melting icicles, living owls and enchanted snow, glistening on the green branches.
Filch took to polishing every suit of armour within Hogwarts and decorated them with festive red hats. Professor Flitwick went a step further, teaching dozens of portraits to serenade passersby with Christmas carols. This initiative, while heartwarming, occasionally struck a discordant note due to the varying musical talents of its portrait participants. Meanwhile, Peeves had developed a repertoire of his own, significantly altering the lyrics of the songs, and taking it upon himself to showcase the results to everyone that he encountered, regardless of their willingness to listen.
For Catherine and her friends, the highlight of the Christmas festivities was undoubtedly the introduction of seasonal culinary delights to their dining experience, featuring the likes of succulent roasted apples, delectable sweet mince pies, and indulgent sticky toffee pudding. The third-years' spirits were already soaring from their triumphant acquisition of the Animagi potion recipe, and they viewed the surprising treats provided by the house-elves not as nuisances, but as well-earned rewards for their daring and ingenuity.
Even amidst the towering stack of holiday homework, the Gryffindors remained undeterred in their good mood, despite Peter's mental tally of the hours he'd need to invest in completing McGonagall's daunting assignment on Cross-Species Switches Spells, stretching across two rolls of parchment.
"Think Thorne will saddle us with as much work?" - Peter inquired with a hint of anxiety as they traipsed back to the castle following Care of Magical Creatures.
James shrugged nonchalantly. "Doubt it. He's not one for lengthy assignments. Probably doesn't fancy slogging through them himself."
"Can you blame him?" – Sirius chuckled – "Imagine having to decipher something scrawled by Mulciber. Honestly, I'm not sure he even knows the alphabet!"
"Can't be worse than Aelia Greengrass." – Catherine interjected – "Frank Longbottom told me that she accidentally cast a Conceal Charm on Valeria Malfoy's wand during Charms. Valeria was so startled she dropped it, and they couldn't find the wand for an hour."
"No wonder their Pure-blood supremacy nonsense falls flat!" – Sirius chortled as they entered the castle, making their way toward the DADA classroom.
"I wish that were true." – Remus murmured sombrely – "Did you hear that Valeria Malfoy had a huge fight with Autumn Monroe from Hufflepuff?"
"Big deal! Valeria is probably the snappiest person I've ever had the misfortune to encounter. Thinks her name puts her above everyone else and doesn't mind making a spectacle of herself!" – Sirius remarked, shrugging.
"It was different this time." – Remus countered in a hushed tone – "Autumn stood her ground, and Valeria was so pissed that she told her it was time to clean the school from all the…ahem…"
"Mudbloods." – Catherine helpfully finished his sentence.
"…Muggle-borns, but that's beside the point." – Remus continued – "Apparently someone stunned Autumn yesterday as she was returning to her Common Room after dinner."
"Unpleasant, certainly, but I expected worse." – noted James, surprised.
"And it gets worse!" - Remus added, casting a cautious glance around – "Philippa Finch from Hufflepuff… you know her, the girl with the short, curly hair… we have Arithmancy together… so she told me Autumn's wand was found next to her, snapped in two!"
"This is despicable!" – roared Sirius, startling a bunch of second-years who were passing by – "When are they going to expel Valeria anyway?"
"They won't! It turned out she had a solid alibi." – Remus explained unhappily.
"Just because she didn't physically do it doesn't mean she wasn't the instigator!" – objected James angrily.
"There's no solid proof." – the amber-eyed boy sighed.
"Aren't we wizards? Can't we use Veritaserum to make her confess?" – snapped Sirius.
"It's forbidden to use Veritaserum on students, Sirius." – Catherine explained calmly – "What's more bothersome in this case is the impressive organisation. It happened way too quickly, and if it wasn't Valeria herself, it means those who want to harm Muggle-borns are very well-coordinated with each other."
"I've said it before, and I'll say it again – you are not going anywhere alone from now on, Flame!" – Sirius declared decisively.
"I've said it before, and I'll say it again – it's not you who decide where I go and with whom." – the black-haired witch replied impassively.
Sirius glared angrily at his friend, ready to start arguing, but at that moment they encountered a large crowd that had encircled a few students.
"What's going on here? Why are you blocking the hallway?" – asked James, pushing his way through the students, followed by his classmates.
Finally, they reached the source of the commotion. Lily Evans was engaged in a heated argument with Leopold Warrington from Ravenclaw. Beside her stood Severus Snape with an unreadable expression. A fourth person was almost hiding behind Warrington's back.
"I'm telling you it wasn't Severus! I'm not sure what happened to Archi, but you're being unreasonable!" – the red-headed witch insisted.
"Have you lost your mind, Evans? Archi was perfectly fine before he drank from his water bottle, and the only time someone could have tampered with it was when we left our schoolbags in the boys' bathroom, and Snape was there! How much more evidence do you need?" – Warrington argued.
"What are you talking about? You're leaving your schoolbags unattended all the time! We all do! Severus wouldn't have done such a thing, and Archi should go see Madame Pomfrey right away!" – Lily refused to give up.
At this juncture, Catherine finally managed to get a better look at the fourth person who, according to the conversation, was supposed to be Archibald Smith from Ravenclaw. The young witch gasped as her eyes fell on the grotesque transformation of the otherwise handsome Archi. His head was oddly swollen, his ears - extremely large and bat-like, and his brown eyes were bulging to the size of tennis balls. In fact, the Ravenclaw bore such a striking resemblance to a house-elf that had the situation not been so serious, Catherine would have found it laughable.
"Of course it was Snivellus! Only a coward like him would resort to some kind of potion instead of facing you directly!" – James jumped in the midst of the argument.
"What do you call me, Potter?" – hissed Snape, immediately drawing his wand.
"I called you a coward. Is your hair so greasy that it blocks sound now?" – James retorted, mocking him as he drew his own wand.
"I'm not the one who's constantly walking around, surrounded by his dogs and whatever that one is." – Snape answered motioning towards Catherine, who responded with a sarcastic snort.
"I don't know if Snape's a coward but he's most certainly an outcast if he needs a Gryffindor to defend him." – she retorted – "Where are you friends, Snivelly? Imagine what kind of misfit one must be if even Slytherins can't stand him!"
These words seemed to really strike a nerve. The crowd laughed and Snape stared at Catherine with murder in his black eyes. She immediately knew that the first curse was going to be sent her way and quickly reached for her wand. However, nothing happened because Lily jumped between her friends, grabbed Snape's hand, and tried to drag him away from the escalating scene.
"Hey! We're not done here!" – James yelled after them – "Come on, Evans! Choose the right side for once!"
"Don't you dare talk to me about the right side, James Potter!" – hissed Lily, her face flushed with rage – "You're just a bully who enjoys nothing more than finding a reason to hex people left and right! Leave us alone!"
James seemed far from finished with the conversation, but the sudden arrival of Filch and Mrs Norris robbed him of the opportunity to continue. The students scattered, and the Gryffindors reached the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom just in time for the lesson.
Professor Thorne divided them into pairs for a practical session on the Lumos Maxima Spell, which they were supposed to use against real Hinkypunks after the holidays.
Lily was ten minutes late and ended up being paired with Catherine who was grateful at first but quickly realised her friend was extremely irritated with everyone, and any kind of collaboration was futile at the moment. As a result, the lesson passed without the black-haired witch being able to focus the powerful light stream into a single ray, as required for effective combat against Dark creatures like the Hinkypunks.
At the end of the class, the girl lowered her wand helplessly and looked at the mirrors on the wall with disappointment. Casting the spell correctly with her partner, aimed at the marked part of the mirror was supposed to redirect the light onto a special crystal plate, which changed colour depending on the force of the spell. Catherine's plate was still transparent because her spell had never reached it in the first place.
"What seems to be the problem, Miss Plantier?" – the voice of Carter Thorne startled the young witch, who realised she was the only one left in the classroom.
"It's nothing, Sir. I was lost in thought. I'll be out of your way immediately." – the Gryffindor said quickly attempting to hastily collect her belongings and put some distance between herself and the DADA teacher.
"Wait for a moment, Miss Plantier." – Thorne requested unexpectedly – "I believe you didn't do well during the lesson. Do you have any issues with Miss Evans?"
"No, Sir!" – lied Catherine instantly – "I think we were just lacking focus. I promise, I'll do my best to improve for the next time."
"It won't be necessary." – Thorne shook his head and approached the black-haired Gryffindor, who was eying the door with hope – "I believe you're strong enough yourself to trigger reaction of the Luminus crystal. You just lack proper technique. Come and stand here next to me."
Catherine obeyed unwillingly, wondering what kind of game her Professor was playing. Judging from past experience, he was definitely up to something, most likely involving her humiliation in one way or another. However, to her utter surprise, the wizard simply helped her position correctly in front of the mirror.
"Your wrist is a bit stiff. It wouldn't allow you to aim accurately." – he explained and gently guided the girl's right arm.
The young witch felt literally dizzy. For three years, Carter Thorne had shown her nothing but harsh expectations, meting out severe punishments for the slightest mistake, and displaying a complete lack of mercy, whether with his wand or his tongue, depending on the situation. The person in front of her, however, was calm, accommodating, and almost father-like.
'Could it be that he's under the Imperius Curse?'- Catherine thought, mechanically following the Professor's instructions.
"Now, use the incantation, but try to focus your gaze a little bit above the marking. This way, the spell will hit exactly where it's supposed to. Don't forget to concentrate your power into a stream."
"Lumos Maxima!" – the girl yelled, and to her surprise, a perfectly shaped stream of light hit the mirror at the correct angle and reflected towards the Luminus crystal, which shined with golden light, just as it had after Sirius and James used their combined spells.
"Very well done!" – Thorne prised the Gryffindor, and for the first time ever, he smiled at her.
To say Catherine was shocked would be an understatement. The black-haired witch realised she was standing there like a complete idiot, staring at her Professor with a blank expression and her mouth agape.
"Do you feel alright?" – Thorne asked with a slight concern in his voice, his sky-blue eyes scanning the girl's face for some sign of sudden illness.
"Yes…I need to go…dinner…Excuse me!" – Catherine stammered, grabbed her schoolbag, and darted through the door without even noticing Professor McGonagall, who was standing there.
"You really left the poor thing speechless, Carter." – the Head of Gryffindor noted dryly, trying to suppress her smile.
The DADA teacher glanced at his colleague and shrugged disappointedly. "I suppose I had traumatised Miss Plantier to the point where she's more afraid of me when being nice than when being mean."
"She's not that easy to break. She's a Gryffindor, after all!" – Minerva remarked proudly, adding with a simper – "I'm glad to see that you've decided to adapt your teaching methods!"
Carter Thorne lifted an eyebrow and smiled bitterly. "I'm not going to alter my expectations. As you probably saw yourself, she has remarkable potential. I can't just allow it to go to waste by not providing enough challenges."
The witch sighed heavily and moved closer to the DADA teacher. "I understand your point… to some extent. I'm still uncertain about your motivation, but I'm just happy to see you're at least trying to be kinder to Miss Plantier. You'll see she's much more willing to perform well in class when the person teaching her shows genuine willingness to help her learn."
"Was that an offence towards me or a bit of humble bragging?" – asked Thorne, smirking which made Minerva McGonagall blush a bit, despite her firm disposition.
"I actually came to return your present, but… I guess I may reconsider. And if you're willing to… I mean, if you have the time, we can share a glass of that wine."
"It would be a pleasure!" – the other teacher replied, his eyes completely serene, fixed on the witch's face, making her blush even harder.
"Good! Then, I suppose, I'll see you first at dinner." – she said hastily, turning toward the door.
"Minerva!" – the DADA Professor called out before his colleague could leave – "I'm glad we have the chance to strengthen things up. I truly missed our conversations."
The Transfiguration Professor smiled and nodded. "I feel the same way. We all need support during these troublesome times. I presume you heard about Ann Owens and her husband?"
Thorne's handsome face turned pale, and he appeared sickened by the subject. "I did. It took me a while to grasp all the gruesome details. Her husband was a Muggle, wasn't he?"
"He was." – McGonagall almost whispered, tears brimming in her beady eyes – "And Ann was such a bright person. She was one of my favourite students, though it's not very professional of me to have favourites… I just can't believe she's gone, and in such a manner! To think that they had werewolves assault her and then… kill her slowly in front of her husband… this is just…"
Marquis Carsilion Egbert had a wealth of experience with Dark wizards, but even he was sickened to the core by the so-called 'accident' as labelled by the Daily Prophet. While he didn't know the victims, Minerva's reaction was heart-wrenching. For a strong, powerful, and composed witch like her to tremble like a child, it must have affected her greatly.
The wizard quickly approached the sobbing witch and embraced her slender frame, smiling at the sharp gasp the Head of Gryffindor emitted, completely taken by surprise. However, it seemed she didn't mind too much because she quickly relaxed in his arms, and her delicate hands rested on his chest.
After a few moments, Thorne released the confused and embarrassed Transfiguration teacher, who cleared her throat and said nervously. "I'm sorry, I got a bit emotional. It's just hard for me to comprehend how anyone could follow that person and support his views. I thought we overcame this after Grindelwald, but I see we're back at the same place once more."
"It's overwhelming." – agreed the DADA Professor – "I know it's not very helpful to say, but we should concentrate on what depends on us – not allowing his influence to spread further into the school."
"I feel we're failing miserably there." – admitted McGonagall.
"So do I. But do we have any real choice but keep on fighting?" – Thorne asked with grim determination.
The evening before Hogwarts students departed for the holiday break, the third-year Gryffindor boys were gathered in their dormitory, joined by Catherine, who had brought along Nyx, much to everyone's horror.
The Kneazle was purring happily in the girl's lap, occasionally lifting its head with a challenging gaze, its piercing green eyes fixed on Sirius, who sat on a thick rug, opposite Catherine. The owner of the spirited creature was stroking its silky black fur unapologetically, while Remus deftly braided her long, straight hair.
Sirius had a lot to say about that particular activity, but the presence of Nyx somehow appeased him, and he was content merely being in the same room as Catherine. James and Peter were also seated on the floor, leaning against the frame of their respective beds.
Remus Lupin was trying to concentrate on the task at hand. Despite James' teasing and Sirius' sullen face, he found braiding Catherine's hair oddly relaxing. Perhaps it was the rhythmic, repetitive motions required, or the comforting presence of his closest female friend, but he felt a sense of security and tranquillity.
Taking a deep breath, Remus savoured the fragrant blend of fresh lemon grass and apple blossoms emanating from the young witch. With the full moon nearing, his heightened senses were both a blessing and a curse, particularly amid the bustling halls of the school.
'This is nice though.' – the boy thought, a soft smile gracing his lips as a faint blush tinted his cheeks at the notion of Catherine's reaction if she knew how much he cherished their closeness.
In truth, he had never felt happier. James, Sirius, and Peter were constants in his life, providing camaraderie, laughter, and tough love when necessary. And then there was Catherine, a relentless source of energy, whose unwavering care and companionship were a soothing balm to Remus's introverted soul. With her, conversation flowed effortlessly, devoid of any awkwardness or judgment. It was as if she understood the darkness that lurked within him, yet never flinched or looked away.
Occasionally, Remus thought he glimpsed a shadow of that same darkness in Catherine's jade-green eyes, but it vanished so swiftly that he dismissed it as mere imagination.
Nevertheless, as they approached the holiday break, Remus felt an overwhelming need to be close to his friends. It provided a welcome distraction from the grim news in the Daily Prophet regarding the recent werewolf attacks and the impending full moon, sadly coinciding with Christmas Eve.
It wasn't that the Lupin family ever had lavish celebrations; money issues and his sister's empty chair at the table, served as stark reminders of their misfortune. In addition, this year Remus was going to spend Christmas somewhere deep in the woods behind their house. The young boy shivered involuntarily, suppressing the vague suspicion that this would drive his mother straight to the local Gleamroot crystals' dealer. Subsequently, upon Remus' return to his human form, he would find himself in a cold, dark house, his father absent and his mother still under the influence of the powdered crystals.
Biting his lower lip to prevent tears from forming in his eyes, Remus forced himself to concentrate on the conversation his friends were having, although he truly wished they would stop discussing the topic altogether.
"Upon further review, we may encounter difficulty in obtaining four essential ingredients, and mere gold won't resolve the issue." – Catherine declared, her gaze fixed on the open pages of the Guide to Rare and Dangerous Potions before her. It was the first time she had delved into such a complex tome, compounded by the unsettling effects of some of the listed potions. Take, for instance, the concoction preceding the Animagi Potion—referred to as Sinfulis Obsessionis—an elixir touted by the author as the most potent of lust-inducing potions, boasting Veela's blood as a primary component.
"Can't we find them in Slughorn's storage?" – James asked, irritation evident as he ruffled his hair.
"I don't think so." – the young witch replied, shaking her head while scanning the list of ingredients – "Thestral hair… I wasn't even sure whether Thestrals were real… Ashwinder egg… I think they are forbidden to be traded… Mandrake leaves… stores are certainly not going to sell us those, but perhaps we can get some from the Greenhouse when the time comes… Phoenix feather… this might be possible to acquire, but it won't be easy…"
"Really? I thought that the feather would be the hardest one to get!" – Sirius remarked sceptically.
"Probably, but I have a plan." – answered Catherine contemplatively.
"You're really annoying with all these secrets, you know, Flame?" – complained Sirius sulkily.
"I love you too." – the girl replied with a charming smile, enjoying the displeased growl coming from her friend.
"Whatever! I think we should try searching for the Thestral hair first. I might know someone who could help us with the Ashwinder egg." – he said, rummaging through his schoolbag for parchment and a quill.
"You know a lot of shady people, mate!" – James chuckled – "I was thinking it might not be safe to ask Professor Kettleburn about the Thestrals. We've already mentioned Animagi in front of many teachers, so we should be careful!"
"I guess we shall start from the Library then." – sighed Catherine, envisioning another grand hunt for information through the thousands of dusty old volumes.
"Not necessarily." – Remus chimed in hesitantly.
His friends looked at him in surprise, as he usually tried to avoid getting involved in their Animagi quest and stayed out of conversations about it.
Taking a deep breath, Remus released Catherine's hair, now neatly divided into two Fishtail braids. "Hogwarts has a big herd of Thestrals. They're the ones who pull the carriages from the station."
"Aren't the carriages moving on their own?!" – Peter interjected, his round blue eyes blinking in confusion.
"But of course!" – exclaimed James excitedly – "We can't see them because they're only visible to those who've seen death! That's how the legend goes!"
Catherine turned around, gazing at Remus' pale face. Her joy from the sudden realisation that one of the ingredients could be nearby vanished when she managed to grasp why the quiet, golden-eyed boy was the only one who could see the creatures. She gently patted his hand and smiled when their eyes met.
"Thanks for telling us, Moony." – she murmured softly.
"I'm not certain I did the right thing." – he sighed heavily – "However, considering that the more I try to persuade you to give up on becoming Animagi, the more determined you are, I guess it's better if I just help you with all I can."
"You finally got back to your senses, mate!" – laughed Sirius with delight.
"Glad to hear it, Moony!" – James chimed in – "In that case, it's probably safest if we ask Hagrid about the Thestrals. If they belong to Hogwarts, he's likely the one taking care of them?"
"You're right, James!" – Catherine agreed – "Once we're back to Hogwarts, I'm going to find a way to ask him during our baking lessons."
"If anyone can do it, that's you!" – said Sirius – "Look how you managed to trick old Slughorn!"
"I expect this to be an easier conversation." – the girl frowned slightly – "We also need to figure out where we can brew the potion. It'll take three months. That's a lot of time."
"Can't we do it here?" – suggested James – "It's just us in the room."
"No! McGonagall can enter whenever she wants, and the house-elves would certainly notice a cauldron in the fireplace." – Catherine disagreed – "They're probably instructed to report such unusual occurrences."
"We'll figure it out!" – said Sirius confidently – "We already know so much about the school! I'm absolutely certain we can find a place where nobody would check, even if it has to be the Shrieking Shack!"
"Not an option!" – Remus declined – "It's not safe if the brewing takes three months. I won't be able to control myself around the potion. I've already broken everything there was to break in terms of furniture."
"It was just an idea, Moony." – Catherine said soothingly – "Let's take it one step at a time. We're already on the right track. Just watch us! We're going to become Animagi in no time and make that blasted full moon the best time of your life!"
"Absolutely!" – roared James and Sirius, joined hesitantly by Peter.
Remus smiled wholeheartedly, trying to embrace the moment and forget about the dreadful Christmas ahead of him.
The crisp, cold air echoed with the bustling of last-minute shoppers, wrapped snugly in their finest winter attire - thick coats, vibrant scarves, and hats of all hues. London's Oxford Street and its shops, from the famed Selfridges to small niche boutiques, were adorned with twinkling Christmas lights and elaborate decorations, casting a warm glow over the hurried patrons.
As the day gave way to night, the illuminated facades of the department stores shone even brighter, their windows attracting the looks by both children and adults. A couple of teenagers left one tiny shop, specialising in hand-painted accessories. The tall blond boy was obediently carrying an impressive number of bags, following the red beret of his sister, guiding their way through the crowds.
"At this point, I'm not sure whether you're enjoying the shopping or torturing me." – Greg McMahon lamented as they reached Bond Street, stopping in front of the De Beers jewellery store.
"You were the one who offered to accompany me." – responded the girl nonchalantly.
"To buy you a gift, not to serve as your personal pack mule!" – groaned the young wizard.
"Fine! Stop complaining!" – the witch retorted, rolling her eyes – "Let's go back to the hotel. It's getting late."
As they made the short trip back, Catherine walked in silence, her mind consumed by thoughts of her friends, especially Remus. His sickly face before they separated at Kings Cross station deeply troubled her, despite the awareness of the upcoming full moon. The whole Christmas affair felt unnecessary and superficial to her. While she was glad to see her grandfather, his hurried demeanour, once again rushing off on another expedition, left her longing for the cozy familial warmth she had heard about from classmates like James and Lily. Yet, Catherine found solace in the thought that things could always be worse; at least she wasn't obliged to spend her time with Sirius' family, unlike him.
After about ten minutes, the two Hogwarts students arrived at the majestic Claridge's hotel, where the attentive staff promptly assisted them with their luggage. The penthouse on the top floor was luxuriously appointed, with plush carpets and heavy curtains matching the opulent decor. In the main room stood a magnificent Christmas tree, towering three meters high, its lush branches adorned with an array of sparkling ornaments, twinkling lights, and delicate tinsel cascading down like shimmering ribbons. Meticulously wrapped gifts lay nestled beneath the tree.
Duke McMahon sat comfortably in a burgundy armchair, savouring eggnog from a festive mug. Beside him, his wife nestled on the sofa next to an elegant wizard in his fifties, whose gentle facial features defied the passage of time. His jade-green eyes, reminiscent of Louisa's, lit up as they fell upon his grandchildren, returning with their purchases.
"Marguerite, on dirait que tu as froid! Viens t'asseoir à côté de moi et prends une tasse de chocolat chaud!"* – he said, taking out his wand and summoning a steaming cup from the nearby tray.
"I'm fine, thanks for asking." – murmured Greg mostly to himself, taking off his hat and gloves.
"Papounet, tu as deux petits-enfants!"** – Louisa remarked sulkily, as she got up from the sofa, embracing her son who was now almost as tall as she was.
"Mais une seule fleur, mon trésor!"*** – Florian Plantier answered, and he wandlessly conjured a delicate daisy with white petals, which he gave to Catherine with a smile.
"Still not a reason to spoil her at Greg's expense!" – objected the Duchess, irritated.
"Someone 'as to do eet in zis family." – Florian said calmly but his voice showed clear displeasure.
"What's that supposed to mean?" – asked Louisa, her eyes flashing.
"Don't worry, my nymph!" – Edward interjected, leaving his empty mug on the table – "As usual, when your father switches to English, it's primarily to criticise me."
"It's not creeticism, raather an observation." – the older wizard replied calmly - "You detch-ed my poor flow-air in zat barbaric school in ze middle of ze mountains wizout any support or care to ensure she receives prop-air education!"
"Hogwarts is a renowned institution, and Catherine's doing great there!" – insisted the Duke, feeling annoyed despite his firm decision not to allow his father-in-law's snappy remarks to affect him – "Regardless of whether you approve or not, she's my daughter, and her ancestors are the Founders of Hogwarts. It's her birth right to be there! It's in her blood!"
"It's 'ard to forget such a thing, especially when we all know what else came wiz said blood." – Florian smirked.
Catherine couldn't bear it any longer. With resolve, she rose from her seat and sought refuge on the rooftop terrace. Halfway through the exchange between her father and grandfather, she had begun to envy Sirius. The young witch was well aware of the tensions that had arisen between the Duke and Florian Plantier following her birth. Florian had accused Edward of deceiving his daughter by not disclosing the risks associated with having a girl with the McMahon blood, despite assurances from Louisa that she was fully informed.
While her grandfather clearly favoured Catherine, she couldn't shake the feeling that this favouritism was only further exacerbating their dysfunctional family dynamic. All that she wanted was some nice, peaceful time without snarky remarks and thinly veiled insults.
'I just wish I didn't feel like everyone would have been happier if I'd never existed.' – she thought, gazing out at the city sprawled out before her.
"Flame?" – the girl heard Greg's voice behind her – "Come back inside, it's really cold."
"It doesn't matter. I don't feel it." – she replied automatically – "In any case, I prefer being here than at the centre of whatever that mess inside is supposed to be."
"You're taking it too personally." – shrugged the boy, shivering from the cold – "We don't meet that often, so Grandpa feels he needs to show all his tricks so to say."
"Doesn't it bother you how he behaves towards you?" – Catherine asked suddenly.
"Sometimes." – her brother admitted – "But, I know it's mostly because I remind him too much of Dad, and also because he still hopes his 'little flower' will turn out to be a great Earth Mage who can use Floral magic like him."
"Hasn't Mom told him I'm inclined to fire?!" – Catherine exclaimed, surprised.
"Are you nuts? If she had, he wouldn't have been here." – Greg chuckled – "I think the only reason he set aside a whole day for us was because of you. Otherwise, he'd already be in Iceland."
"Lovely." – the black-haired witch grumbled.
"Holidays just aren't a priority for Mom's family, and you know it." – the boy said with a shrug – "It's already quite an effort that Grandpa rented the penthouse and ordered decoration and presents. That's more than I anticipated! You need to adjust your expectations, sis."
"I wish I could live my life like you do, Greg." – Catherine hissed – "It must be nice not to care about anything! This way, you experience neither highs, nor lows."
The girl quickly regretted her words. The wizard appeared visibly hurt by her comment. He turned as if to leave but then paused, reconsidering.
"You know, Flame, if you stop fixating on every way our family does not correspond to some idea you have about cloudless happiness, you might notice we're doing our best despite the hardships. Mom and Dad may not be perfect, but they are the first people in our family in hundreds of years who gave their daughter a chance to live and raised her, despite the danger they face. As for me, the fact that I don't use my magic to show everyone I'm displeased or joyful doesn't mean I don't have feelings or don't care about anything. However, let me ask you something: you often accuse us of not caring about you, but do you care about us?"
Before Catherine could respond, Greg went back inside, leaving his sister completely stunned and very much ashamed of herself. Unsure of how much time had passed, she remained perched on the terrace's edge, gripping the rail tightly as she gazed blankly at the night sky. Her trance was broken by a warm sensation on her right hand.
Looking down, the witch discovered her hand and the rail being covered with blood. She hadn't realised she had been clutching a sharp ornament that pierced her skin, leaving a deep gash across her palm. Acting instinctively, Catherine enveloped the wound with her magic. A surge of adrenaline pulsed through her as a faint blue light emanated from her hand, healing the skin completely without even a trace of a scar. As the healing magic took effect, the distant sound of church bells drifted through the air, drowning out the noise of the traffic below.
*Margaret, you look cold! Come sit next to me and take a cup of hot chocolate.
** Daddy, you have two grandchildren!
*** But only one flower amongst them, my treasure!
Spinner's End remained unchanged throughout the seasons, its rundown brick houses, and broken streetlights a constant sight. The river, polluted with debris, lazily wound its way between steep banks. The nearby mill's tall chimney tirelessly smoked, filling the air with the unpleasant odour of burning coal.
On Christmas Eve, there was no festive spirit in this impoverished corner of Cokeworth. Instead of joyful carols, the neighbourhood echoed with the howls of stray dogs roaming the streets freely, a stark reminder of the area's neglect.
In a cramped, dimly lit kitchen within one of the homes on Spinner's End, a petite, gaunt woman moved tirelessly between the oven and a small table. She wore an old black dress, its fabric weathered with age, and a stained apron wrapped around her. Nearby, a scraggy chicken lay in a tray, surrounded by a handful of potatoes and carrots.
On the opposite side of the table, a lanky teenager with shoulder-length black hair hunched over a roll of parchment, scribbling furiously with minuscule, cramped handwriting. He was engrossed in what seemed to be a detailed essay on the subcategories of venomous plants in Europe for his Herbology class.
"Severus, it's time to stop studying. It's too dark, and your father will be home soon." – Eileen Snape gently admonished her son as she placed their modest dinner in the oven to roast.
"Maybe he could have paid the electricity bill instead of going around with his friends drinking." – the boy retorted, carefully setting his homework aside to allow the ink to dry and rubbed his tired eyes.
"It's not his fault he lost his job." – the woman pointed out sorrowfully – "Many people were let go. We're fortunate to have some meat for dinner tonight. You should show more gratitude. Darkness can be cozy, and we still have wood for the oven."
Severus lifted his head abruptly, anger etched on his face as he met his mother's gaze. Though barely visible in the December night's sticky darkness, he could sense the tears welling in her eyes. Yet, rather than evoking sympathy, this realisation only fuelled his resentment towards her.
"You're a witch! You can conjure some light." – he spat out with disgust – "Or even better – you can return my wand, and I can do it."
"You know perfectly well your father doesn't feel comfortable around magic." – Eileen attempted to diffuse her son's annoyance – "We're not going to discuss it again! You're grounded for using spells in the house, and I won't return your wand until you're leaving back to Hogwarts."
Severus clenched his thin lips tightly, suppressing his anger. It was bad enough he wasn't allowed to stay at school for the holidays, but having his wand confiscated for using it to repair the table his father broke during one of his drunken rages was beyond unfair. The young wizard was poised to continue arguing, but the sound of heavy steps in the corridor robbed him of that opportunity.
Tobias Snape staggered into the room, the unmistakable scent of alcohol and tobacco trailing behind him. He was a large, imposing figure, nearing forty-five. His hair was cropped short and still jet black, much like his piercing black eyes. A prominent hooked nose lent his face a menacing and perpetually angry expression, which seemed to be his default mood unless he found refuge in the local pub, away from his family.
For Severus' utter disappointment, he resembled his father greatly, except he inherited nothing of his physique. Even at the age of almost fourteen, it was evident that the young wizard would be tall and slender rather than brawny and stalwart. His pale complexion, however, made the boy appear frail and weak. This was likely one of the reasons why Tobias harboured such animosity towards his son.
"Why's it so dark in 'ere? I thought you lot 'ad gone or summat." – the man asked, chuckling at his own joke.
"We didn't pay the electricity bill this month, darling." – his wife quickly jumped towards one of the cupboards – "We have a few candles though. I'll light one in a moment."
Tobias growled something under his breath, casting a quick glance at the chicken in the oven before plopping down on the closest chair across from Severus. Meanwhile, Eileen had found a candle and was hastily searching for matches. She was acutely aware that her husband tended to become incredibly impatient after drinking, and she didn't want to give him any reason to lose his temper, especially on Christmas Eve. When she realised there were no matches left, the woman quickly drew her wand from an internal pocket of her apron and lit the candle.
Unfortunately, her fidgety, rushed movements didn't remain unnoticed. Tobias Snape was surprisingly observant for a Muggle, and he seemed to be constantly aware of his surroundings.
"I told ya not to use this thing around me!" – he shouted angrily, slamming his fist on the table – "Are ya so useless that ya can't do anythin' 'round 'ere without magic?"
"N-n-o, darling!" – Eileen stammered apologetically – "I just couldn't find matches and I wanted to save some time."
"Ah, so it's not about bein' useless but bein' lazy!" – Tobias exclaimed with an unpleasant smirk – "One would wonder what ya do with all that time saved. You certainly didn't take care of the 'ouse because it's a complete mess! And you didn't use it to make yourself look pretty for me! Although I suppose even magic 'as its limitations."
"Don't talk to her like that!" – hissed Severus, staring at his father with hatred.
It happened quicker than anyone expected. Tobias rose abruptly and sent everything on the table crashing to the floor with a single strike. Severus' ink bottle broke, soaking his Herbology essay in black ink.
"Is that what they teach you in that school? To get smart with your father?" – the man shouted, with spit flying out of his mouth – "You should be working to help us pay the bills! Instead of being grateful for sending you to school, you sulk around, eat my food, and waste my money on clothes, books, and whatnot! And now yer tryna' order me 'ow to treat me own wife?!"
"Severus, go to your room and don't upset your father any further!" – Eileen interjected hastily – "I'll call you for dinner."
When the boy didn't move, his mother practically dragged him upstairs to his tiny bedroom on the second floor. Before closing the door, she cast a pleading look in her son's direction, though it was obscured by the darkness surrounding them.
Severus was oblivious to the passage of time. He was entirely concentrated on suppressing his rage against both his parents. While the young wizard was positive that his dad's words hurt much less than his fist or belt, he had a slight suspicion that his mom might not share the same opinion. The teenager hissed with irritation at Eileen's inability to put a Muggle like his father in his rightful place. Frankly speaking, Severus would have been more than happy to do it for her. However, the looming possibility of being charged by the Ministry of Magic for breaching the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, getting expelled, and being forced to return home had a very strong restraining power.
The black-haired boy crossed his room in just three steps, careful not to trip over one of the boxes containing his few belongings. He then opened the dirty window and gazed eastward, where Lily Evans' house lay less than a kilometre away.
'They must be having dinner now.' – he thought dreamily, his own stomach rumbling hungrily. The only time Severus had ever set foot in Lily's house had been just before they were set to leave for Hogwarts for the first time. It was a nice, cozy two-story building with large windows and flower beds in the front yard. The Evans family weren't wealthy by any means, but they weren't poor either. The furniture was new and comfortable, everything was spotlessly clean, and the mouthwatering aroma of chocolate chip cookies wafted from the kitchen. Lily's mom was very kind and had insisted that Severus take some sweets for the way home, which he had refused, trying to salvage some of his dignity, painfully aware of his shabby, mismatched clothes and unkempt appearance.
It was painful for the young wizard to admit that he truly longed for the life his best friend enjoyed. He wished he could spend his evening in a bright, festive, and warm living room, indulging in as much food as he desired and finding a gift with his name on it under the Christmas tree. He couldn't even recall if they had ever had a Christmas tree in his house, but he was certain that the only person who would have given him any present was Lily. She had tried to do so two years ago, but Severus was so ashamed that he couldn't offer anything in return that he snapped, declaring the holiday ridiculous, and returned the package wrapped in beautiful emerald-green paper without even opening it. Lily understood the message, and since then, she hadn't attempted to give him anything else, not even for his birthday. This was met by Severus with relief, as he was running low on plausible excuses.
The teenager's thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a commotion downstairs, followed by his mother's scream. Severus shook off his daze immediately and dashed towards the door, only to find it locked.
'When did she manage to lock it?!' – he thought angrily, exerting all his strength to escape the room, but to no avail.
Tobias' angry shouting and a series of muffled hitting sounds reverberated through the boy's mind, causing him almost physical pain.
"Alohomora! Alohomora!" – Severus shouted at the door, but the spell did little good without his wand.
The noise grew louder, and the boy was able to distinguish his father's vulgar insults, accompanied by Eileen's distinct sobbing. Severus sank to the dusty floor, pressing his back against the locked door, and covered his ears with his hands in a futile attempt to drown out the sounds coming from downstairs.
The young wizard preferred it when Tobias was beating him instead of his mom. At least the pain was dulling his other senses. At least then Severus was a participant rather than a helpless witness. He could retain some semblance of control, even if it was in the form of enduring everything without shedding a single tear. However, at that moment, a flood of tears was cascading from the wizard's tightly shut eyes as he once again went through the well-rehearsed routine that had preserved his sanity during the long years of his childhood.
'I'm all grown up now—a rich, powerful, and well-respected wizard whom everyone fears and envies…' – the boy recited the familiar story in his mind – 'The Ministry of Magic offered me several high positions, but I refused them all to concentrate on my own potion business. With numerous highly-valued patents under my belt, I could easily retire. However, the wizarding society needs me to guide them through their struggle with understanding Dark Arts and creatures, as they're either too naive to handle them properly or too ignorant to comprehend them.'
The sounds from downstairs became more erratic – Eileen's screams now mixed with excited grunts coming from Tobias.
'All my former classmates are now seeking my company and advice.' – Severus continued the story in his head, pouring every ounce of his focus into vividly picturing every detail, thus blocking out the tumult of the real world – 'Members of every pure-blood family are frequent guests at my spacious, luxurious house. They often praise the style and quality of the furniture, the delectable food, and the opulent decor. Lucius is the godfather of my son, and he and Cissy dine with Lily and me every Saturday.'
The teenager was fully immersed in envisioning the grown-up Lily Snape, neé Evans, standing beside him, smiling at him with love and adoration, wearing an abundant number of jewelleries, all gifted by her husband. She held the hand of a young black-haired boy with the same emerald-green eyes as hers.
Another piercing scream came from the ground floor, accompanied by the sound of breaking glass.
'Last week, Bella Black came to ask me if I could find a job for her worthless cousin, who apparently couldn't keep a position despite all his family's influence.' - the Slytherin continued, delving further into his fantasy world – 'I told Bella I'd see him, but only to relish the opportunity to inform him that he's good for nothing and that he can join his buddy Potter in drinking all his inheritance away. It's understandable when one is so arrogant that they can't hold down a job for more than two consecutive months and not nearly talented enough to become a professional Quidditch player.'
The young wizard grinned as he imagined the shabby-looking Sirius Black timidly entering his office, attempting to apologise and beg for a chance, promising he would work hard and prove himself worthy. He even swore he could make James Potter come and show exactly how much he regretted their past behaviour. Severus shivered with pleasure at the detailed vision in his mind. He could see Black's weary, unshaved face so clearly. The desperation in his grey eyes was more than evident.
"Stupid ugly bitch, I told ya not to look at me!" – Tobias rough voice broke through his son's mental barriers – "Do what you're only good for! Is that so 'ard?"
Severus felt the taste of blood in his mouth, realising he was biting his lower lip fiercely. He could sense his pulse racing and his mind growing foggy.
''I'm in control! I can't let my anger consume me or he's going to win!" – the teenager heard his own raspy voice, forcing himself back to his soothing fantasy.
Severus pictured himself strolling through the dimly lit Knockturn Alley, searching for a few poisonous ingredients needed for his latest research. Suddenly, someone tugged his cloak, and he turned to find Peter Pettigrew, grinning broadly, and bowing deeply. Pettigrew insisted that Severus follow him into the nearby brothel, claiming he had an exquisite deal in mind. He had thought about it ever since seeing Severus receive a First Class Order of Merlin for his Dragon Pox Cure in last year's Daily Prophet. Unafraid but rather curious, Snape followed the former Gryffindor, finding himself in a suffocatingly dark room where half-naked witches served drinks to rather ragged patrons. Pettigrew took his disgusted former classmate to a secluded area where a bonny, dishevelled woman in a tawdry-looking short red dress, was sitting on low chair, staring at the floor, probably expecting her next customer. Her straight black hair emitted an overpowering scent, a mix of cheap perfume and men's sweat.
The woman lifted her head and Severus prepared to imbibe the sight of her battered, anguished face. However, to his surprise, the expression on the person who was supposed to be Catherine Plantier was far from what the young wizard had expected and wanted.
No matter how hard Severus tried to imagine it differently, Catherine's jade-green eyes exuded blunt superiority. Her chin stayed proudly lifted, and her daring smile remained unyielding.
'What the fuck is that?! Why can't I picture her the way I want!' – the boy thought annoyed and confused by the abrupt interruption to the satisfying dream scenario unfolding in his mind – 'It's probably because of Lucius and his stupid kinks. So much for Plantier and her 'reactive face'. She's worthless even for a fantasy!'
Gritting his teeth, Severus tried to regain his focus, but it eluded him. Catherine's defiant green eyes filled his mind, and all he desired was to shatter her composure, to replace her pride and ridicule with desperation and hopelessness.
Eileen's muffled sobs started reaching the young wizard's ears yet again. The real world closed in, crushing the last vestiges of his dream reality. He slammed his fists on the dirty wooden floor, feeling utterly abandoned and frustrated.
"I hate you so much!" – he muttered angrily under his breath with his eyes still tightly shut.
It was the middle of summer. Golden light flooded the old castle, streaming through every window with warmth, accompanied by bird songs and the sweet aroma of the flower garden surrounding the McMahon family estate.
Catherine strolled down one of the corridors leading to a spacious living room on the third floor. The stone felt cold under her bare feet.
'Where's the carpet?' - she thought briefly, her mind feeling foggy and drowsy, as if she were on the verge of drifting off after a very tiresome day.
Something felt strangely off in the whole situation. The young witch had the vague impression it was supposed to be winter, and her body felt peculiar—slightly heavier and stiffer. The castle also appeared different; there were fewer portraits on the walls, and the stone seemed less weathered. Moreover, all the Muggle inventions they were using, such as electric lights, were nowhere to be seen.
The girl could sense an inexplicable surge of excitement. She had a distant feeling that her magic was running wild, surpassing all of her limits, giving her a defiant sense of omnipotence and the freedom she longed for desperately.
The heavy wooden doors in front of her burst into flames, turning into ashes in mere seconds. Catherine remained unfazed. She walked past what she recognised as her father's study, now open to reveal what appeared to be a music room, filled with harps, fiddles, and cornetts, all exuding a distinctive medieval vibe.
A tiny house-elf emerged from within the premises, dressed in a makeshift rug and carrying a duster and a bucket of water. The creature screeched in horror when it saw Catherine. The young witch felt elated. She raised her hand and snapped her fingers. The head of the house-elf was severed from its trembling body, as if an invisible sword cut its neck.
Without a second glance, the girl continued walking and soon reached her destination. The living room looked vastly different from what Catherine remembered. Her mother's plush midnight-blue armchairs and sofa had been replaced with rough wooden chairs. Instead of the yellow Persian carpet, there lay a Graphorn skin in front of the empty fireplace. Edward McMahon's vinyl record collection was nowhere to be seen, but an impressive tapestry depicting the construction of Hogwarts by the Four Founders adorned one wall.
Two blond boys between the age of seven and ten were playing on the floor with a bunch of marble balls, giggling merrily. Catherine felt like a wild predator, stalking its prey. A mindless thirst was driving her insane. The older boy turned around abruptly his blue eyes growing wide with fear.
"Erin!" – he exclaimed before his body being cut into hundreds of little pieces. The scream that echoed through the room came from Baldwin McMahon who witnessed his brother's demise. The boy remained petrified on the floor, his lips moving soundlessly, unable to form words. The air was thick with fear and smell of blood that made Catherine smile with delight. At her feet, the trembling human emitted waves of desperation and primal magical essence, his power attempting to shield him from his inevitable fate.
Catherine effortlessly lifted Baldwin to eye level with her magic. Slowly, she licked the tears from his pale face, a soft sigh of pleasure escaping her.
"I think I'm going to kill you the same way I killed mother." – the witch whispered in her brother's ear before she used air currents sharp as knives to pierce the boy's screaming body until it was all limp and lifeless.
It felt euphoric. Her power absorbed the pain and suffering surrounding her, multiplying exponentially. With her heightened strength, newfound knowledge flooded her mind. She no longer required a wand or spells; the magic currents obediently fulfilled her every desire, conjuring spells far beyond the limited imagination of the puny wizards who had dared to imprison her.
As the witch crossed the room, the far wall erupted in a cloud of dust and debris. At the edge, she paused, casting a glance toward the south where the nearest village nestled among the hills.
"What a pity Robert isn't here to join in the fun!" – Catherine laughed, briefly shooting a glance at the polished silver mirror that lay nearby. The chubby girl, around twelve years old, with platinum blond hair and glowing red eyes she saw there appeared somewhat familiar. The witch grinned darkly as huge black wings spawned from her shoulders, and she flew away from her ruined home. Fiendfyre hungrily consumed the tapestry on the wall.
Catherine awoke drenched in cold sweat, a splitting pain in her head making her feel nauseous as it spread through her entire body. She hurried towards the bathroom, her trembling legs barely managing to carry her there in time. After vomiting violently for a few minutes, the young witch managed to rise to her feet and wash her face. The mirror above the sink showed her a crying mess of a girl with jade-green eyes and unkempt black hair. She went back to bed trying to be as quiet as possible, though there was no indication that any of the other inhabitants of the Claridge's hotel penthouse had woken up. However, the witch found herself unable to return to sleep, trembling intensely throughout the rest of the night. A bitter taste lingered in her mouth, and despite her efforts to convince herself that it was just a nightmare, the memory of the bloodthirst and sadistic pleasure she had felt remained fresh. She was fully conscious of her actions and the enjoyment she had derived from them.
"I don't want to… This isn't who I am…" – she whimpered, burying her face into the pillow as the sun rose above London on Christmas day.