Cassandra Reed and the Curse of Mordred
Chapter 4
The Professors from Hogwarts
A tall, imposing woman stepped into the room, her long green robes with brown edging giving the impression of an immovable oak.
Behind her trailed the blue-eyed stranger from the crooked house.
The one who had saved her, Cass remembered through the haze of memory. Was it he who brought her to St. Mungo's?
Cass's spine straightened as she stood. The woman's stern presence and feline eyes gave the impression that she missed nothing and suffered no fools. Cass tried not to shudder under the examination.
In response, Cass turned her own critical gaze upon the woman, one eyebrow quirked in piercing skepticism.
She was well into her golden years, a near century of wisdom lining her face. Yet, her golden-green eyes seemed to spark with shrewd determination and a zeal that was echoed in her confident, steady movements.
The woman's countenance seemed to harden, and Cass felt certain that whatever judgement had been placed upon her was not in her favor.
"Cassandra Reed."
The man from the alleyway spoke, his voice smooth as velvet. "We didn't have a chance to introduce ourselves earlier. My name is Orion Morikawa, and this –"
He gestured to the imposing woman. "This is Professor Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
Something of Cass's rising disbelief – and not-so-mild panic – must have shown on her face, for he added. "This must feel overwhelming, I understand. Please, we will explain."
Professor McGonagall stepped forward, pulling out a thin, polished stick – a wand, Cass realized with a skip in her chest.
Witches and wizards and talking portraits.
Maybe this really was an asylum.
The woman drew the wand through the air in a deft flourish, a delicate, shimmering trail following in the wand's wake. Suddenly, the empty space between Cass and the woman warped and, with a small pop, three perfectly plush chairs now rested around a quaint table as though they had always been just so.
Nestled atop the table was a perfectly steaming teapot ringed by several tiered trays, small cakes and scones teetering along the slightly askew rims.
Cass's cheeks heated as her stomach growled, the noise echoing through the room.
How long had Sister Agnes said it had been since she had arrived?
Two days.
No wonder she was hungry.
Professor McGonagall gave a small smile that smoothed the sharp lines of her face into something Cass could almost recognize as kindness.
"I thought you may like something to eat." She gestured toward the sweet-laden table, welcoming them to take a seat. "An old friend of mine believed a strong cup of tea and a few sweet treats could lift a burden right off one's shoulders. Even if but for a moment."
Cass glanced toward the food that had not been there just a moment before. Something at the edge of her mind said not to trust it.
Was that not how all the fairy stories went? One bite and you were lost forever?
It was not like Cass had a problem with trusting people. Of course she would want to believe in the best of a person, but as much as she wanted to believe these were good people, the situation spoke otherwise.
Yes, Orion had saved her butt in that cellar. But now she was locked in a hospital room after having been stabbed through the chest with a magical sword.
Grrrowwllll.
Cass hurriedly took a seat, sinking into the soft cushion.
What was she even thinking? That they poisoned the food? The magic food that appeared out of thin air, the same food that Orion was happily munching on across the table?
It was not like her situation could get any worse.
McGonagall nodded, taking the final seat as she poured three strong cups of tea.
"They don't fill by magic, too?" Cass asked.
The Headmistress blinked as she set the teapot down with a solid thunk. Cass could not tell if she was amused or frustrated. "Sometimes the act is more important than expediency."
"Sugar?" Orion asked, stealing Cass's attention.
"Oh." She blinked. "I'll get it." Her voice became small and wavering as the stark normality of an afternoon tea became jarring against the utter insanity unfolding around her.
Suddenly, it no longer felt like a dream. It was easier to pretend it was all a fantasy when everything was new and strange, where she was just another Alice stumbling through Wonderland.
But this was familiar. This was real.
This was all real.
"Ah, Sister Agnes."
The nurse in the portrait startled at the Headmistress's words, smoothing the edges of her skirt as though pretending she had not just been leaning forward to catch their conversation.
"If you wouldn't mind, good Sister." McGonagall continued. "We would like a word with Miss Reed. In private."
With a bob and some parting pleasantries, Sister Agnes stepped toward the edge of her frame and disappeared.
Cass frowned. "Where did she go?"
"Likely paying one of her friends a visit." Orion gave her an easy grin. "She might be the most popular portrait at St. Mungo's now. They haven't seen such a strange case since the Great Shrink Incident of 2012."
"And what kind of 'incident' am I?" Cass asked.
Orion seemed to pick up on the exhaustion weighing on every syllable, pushing her cup closer.
Cass took a fortifying sip. It was as strong as it looked, delightfully so.
It fortified her enough to ask, "What in the hell is going on?"
She did not intend for it to come out as an accusation, but the sting seemed to linger in the air between them. The Headmistress's lips pursed.
"I was rather hoping you could tell us." She began, head piqued to the side as she examined Cass behind sharp, feline eyes. "But first, perhaps some context will help."
The tale the Headmistress spun was extraordinary. An entire secret world, lying just beneath the surface of the real – no, the Muggle – world. For it was just as real as Cass's own.
It should have been unbelievable, if Cass was not sitting upon a conjured chair, sipping magic tea, her chest still aching from a cursed wound that should have killed her.
Cass, for her part, provided her story the best she could. It was short and lacking. Easily summarized as – 'I got lost, I got stupid, and then I got stabbed.'
"Why you?" Cass asked when it seemed the Professors had finished asking their questions of her story. Some part of her was pleased by the slight look of surprise from the pair, as though they had expected any question but that.
Perhaps it was the tea, but her mind felt sharp for the first time since she awoke.
She settled into her journalist roots, as though it was a shield against the maelstrom threatening to overwhelm her.
"Why you." She repeated, leaning forward. "Orion said that you lead a school. So, why are you interested in this – in me? Why are you here and not –." Cass hesitated. Surely a secret underground society of magical people had a police force of some sort?
"Aurors." Orion supplied with a glance toward the Headmistress. "We – they – work for the Ministry and are like your detectives, in a fashion."
"Aurors, like you?"
Something flashed across his face, too quick for Cass to decipher.
"Orion now devotes his extraordinary talents to the students of Hogwarts as our Defense against the Dark Arts professor." McGonagall stepped in when Orion failed to respond.
Cass glanced between the two, her instincts razor sharp and itching to sink their teeth into whatever story was behind the subtle interactions that played out before her.
Now was not the time, she reminded herself.
"You didn't answer my question."
Again, the startled reaction at her directness. Perhaps they expected her to be more overwhelmed, more confused.
She should be. She would be. Later.
"Why are two professors here and not those – those aurors?"
And why should I trust you. The unspoken words hung in the air between Cass, the witch, and the wizard.
"All you need to know for now is that you are safe from the people who did this to you, and we will do everything in our power to keep that so." McGonagall replied, her tone brokering no debate. "We will help figure out how you were cursed and undo it."
Cass, unfortunately, very much loved to debate.
"So, helping undo a curse and keeping me safe from a mysterious cult are two teachers and a portrait?" She cocked her head, innocent as a wolf. "But not the proper authorities?"
The pair shared another glance, this time Cass read it perfectly well. "They don't know." She realized. "The police – those aurors and your Ministry. They don't know what happened, but they are supposed to."
McGonagall leapt in, her voice sharp as a stiletto. "As soon as Orion brought you to St. Mungo's, he summoned my help. We each have extensive experience dealing with dark magics and curses, more than most in the Ministry."
The Headmistress's eyes darted toward the empty frame hanging on the wall. "This is neither the time nor the place for further discussion of the topic."
It would snow in hell before Cass let this drop. Something was wrong, and she was at the center of it.
"You're strangers." She set the empty teacup down hard on the saucer. "And I was nearly killed by a group of witches and wizards just like you." She paused, glancing at the pair and feeling a tinge of satisfaction at the flash of guilt across Orion's face. "Then I wake up locked in a strange place with magic and two teachers telling me that I should trust them in this upside down world? You'll need to give me more than an, 'I'll tell you later.'"
Her voice cracked as she spoke, the overwhelm threatening to break through her temporary shield of calm.
"What if I walked out of this room right now and rang up those aurors?"
Without waiting for a response, she strode toward the door, getting one hand on the latch before Orion appeared before her.
"It's for your own safety." He said, having the good grace to at least look ashamed.
Cass spun, her hands starting to smart with adrenaline. "Let me out."
McGonagall's lips pursed. Clearly things had not gone as she had expected.
"You're under protection." She replied, every consonant perfectly clipped. "For your safety, as much as for others'."
"What do you mean?"
"We don't know enough about the curse." Orion's voice was steady, measured. "It showed some – dangerous – tendencies earlier. You may not remember, but you woke up once before, panicked."
His lips fell into a thin, tense line. "Several nurses were injured. Sister Agnes has been keeping an eye on you in their stead."
"Injured? But I –"
Orion gestured to Cass's arms, where sparks of soft blue had begun to dance around her hands, her arms.
Her chest ached. She had become so familiar with the sensation that she had almost forgotten it hurt at all.
The awareness now rammed into her. She stumbled back a step, shaking her hands at her sides as the sparks dissipated.
"It seems to happen when you are frightened, or surprised." He murmured, hands out before him as though he was talking to a caged animal.
Exactly as Cass felt.
"I'm not a specimen." She gasped. "I have every right to leave. I want –" Her voice cracked. "I want to go home."
The Headmistress studied her for a moment, before nodding. "Take a moment and have another cup of tea."
The woman stood, and Cass had not realized just how tall she was before. "This is understandably overwhelming for you. You must be feeling quite scared right now. Take a moment, and then when you are ready, we will discuss further."
With that, the imposing witch pulled Orion to the side of the room, their heads bent on a quiet, tense, conversation.
Cass paced beside the table, unable to sit still despite the exhaustion clawing at the corners of her eyes.
Had she really hurt those nurses? She didn't remember anything of the sort.
They could be making it up to keep her here. But why?
Nothing made any sense.
"And what of Potter?" The Headmistress whispered, her voice just barely catching along the gleaming hospital tile. "Have you had any response?"
Orion's response was muffled. Cass could only catch parts. "— Minister – sent away – think he knows?"
Cass bit the inside of her cheek, glancing between the door and the professors' turned backs.
Slowly, she let her pacing expand in an ever-growing circle until she was before the door.
It was now or never.
Heart hammering in her chest and sparks of blue stubbornly clinging to her fingertips, Cass tested the knob.
By some miracle, it turned.
Between one breath and the next, Cass was through the door and on her way to freedom and sanity.