Sirius received his slice of cake alongside a salty tirade from Catherine, who was more than displeased upon discovering their plan and the fact they had kept it from her. Even with the Thestral hair finally in their possession, visible only to James and Remus, the girl's annoyance with her best friends remained unassuaged.
Dumbledore had successfully healed all the scars left by the salamanders, and Sirius quickly pushed the pain he had experienced aside, basking in their achievement.
"I love it when plans come together as they should!" – he exclaimed with a grin, springing onto one of the sagging red sofas in the Gryffindor Common Room, where Catherine sat, engrossed in her Standard Book of Spells, Grade 3 by Miranda Goshawk. Ignoring her lack of response, Sirius seized her book and settled his head into her lap, casually flipping through the pages of the thick volume, scoffing condescendingly.
"You already know all this! Let's do something fun instead!"
"Sure!" – Catherine replied, her tone laced with sarcasm, green eyes flashing with anger – "How about I set you on fire again? Or we can shove you off the Astronomy Tower and see if you can fly! Is that fun enough for you?"
Pushing the tome aside, Sirius grasped Catherine's hand firmly, coaxing her to meet his gaze, sincerity evident on his face.
"Don't be mad at us, Flame!" – he pleaded, pressing his lips to the back of her hand, causing the young witch to avert her eyes in embarrassment – "You've been through so much lately, and overall, you've already done more than your fair share. It's time to let us be your partners in this, not just some foolish kids you look after."
"I simply can't believe you would devise such a dangerous plan and you couldn't be bothered to share it with me!" – exclaimed Catherine exasperatedly – "Do you have any idea what kind of horror I experienced when I saw you screaming, engulfed in flames? I thought you may die!"
"We knew the salamander fire was not sufficiently potent to kill me, but the accident had to appear serious enough for Hagrid to come to the rescue!" – Sirius attempted to justify their actions, his heart pounding furiously at the memory of Catherine's genuine care during the accident – "Come on! You won't cry again, will you? It makes me feel worse than being burnt to a crisp by salamanders!"
"Numbskull!" – the young witch snapped and stood up – "I'm warning you, Sirius Black, if such a thing happens again, you'll sorely regret the day you met me!"
"I doubt it!"- Sirius responded, moving swiftly from the sofa to stand next to Catherine, his voice dropping slightly in pitch – "I'll never regret that day, no matter what comes between us."
Catherine met his intense gaze, feeling a lump in her throat and her palms growing sweaty. "You're not off the hook yet." – she murmured, her tone much softer than intended.
"Would you change your mind if I buy you a box of your torture candies when we go to Hogsmeade next weekend?" – asked Sirius, flashing a tempting smile.
"Make it two boxes." – said Catherine, deciding it was a fair price for her concern.
The first Saturday in April bathed Hogwarts in the golden embrace of spring, casting a radiant glow over every student bustling with anticipation for their Hogsmeade visit. Catherine was not an exception. She was having an early breakfast, humming a catchy tune, she had heard on the portable wizarding radio Mary had received as a birthday present from her parents. Suddenly, a beautiful brown owl dropped a letter over her scrambled eggs and flew away. The young witch quickly opened the envelope and immediately recognised Dumbledore's handwriting.
Dear Catherine,
My apologies for or the delay in reaching out to you. Matters of great urgency demanded my attention beyond the confines of Hogwarts.
Let us resume our lessons promptly on Monday following the Easter break, at the hour of 8 p.m.
In the interim, I implore you to persist in honing your skills in the art of healing magic. Should you find yourself with spare moments amidst your studies, I recommend perusing the tome titled 'Healing Spells and Incantations' by the esteemed Professor Aurelia Silverleaf that you can find in the Library. Mastering some traditional healing spells will facilitate adapting your magic for that particular task.
Yours sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
P.S. It has come to my attention that the Gargoyle has developed a fondness for Salt Water Taffies as of late.
'Great!' – thought Catherine, annoyed – 'He doesn't have enough time for me but assigns me homework regardless!'
She finished her breakfast and left the castle. Remus was already waiting for her next to the gates. Sirius had received detention for 'improper handling of salamanders,' and James had opted to stand by him. Peter apparently found the prospect of spending the entire morning with James, while Sirius was busy sorting various fertilizers, to be the most enjoyable use of his time. Thus, Catherine and Remus ventured into the village alone, with the promise of meeting the rest of their group later for butterbeers at The Three Broomsticks.
The two Gryffindors enjoyed a pleasant morning wandering through Hogsmeade, filled with fellow Hogwarts students. The young witch was chatting merrily, jumping from one topic to another, while Remus listened with a contented smile, occasionally interjecting. He seemed pleased to engage in a conversation where his input was limited to no more than thirty percent.
"So, eventually, I decided to get a new broom. However, I haven't decided on the brand, and every time I ask for advice James and Sirius end up bickering for hours, without helping me choose." – the girl concluded her rant.
"I suppose the choice depends on whether you plan to use it for Quidditch or just for recreational flying around Hogwarts." – said Remus, looking at the sky contemplatively – "Though, I can't see much use for flying around the castle. I suppose you wouldn't be able to use it while you're at home?"
"Not necessarily." – Catherine replied, her words measured and deliberate – "We live on a large property, so I can fly around without worrying about Muggles spotting me, apart from my parents, of course."
"If your house is that big, don't you have some sort of servants?" – asked Remus.
Remus's inquiry caught Catherine off guard. She underestimated her friend's astute and perceptive nature. Furthermore, unlike James and Sirius, the amber-eyed boy's quiet demeanour belied his acute observation skills. Every word he spoke carried weight, a trait Catherine now regretted overlooking.
"We used to employ a few servants, but when my magic began to manifest, my parents deemed it necessary to let them go, to avoid any undue attention or speculation." – lied the girl, hoping it would sound plausible – "Nowadays, we rely on a cleaning service for maintenance, and food is delivered to our doorstep."
"It must have been difficult when you found out that you were a witch." – stated Remus, reflecting upon what Catherine had just told him – "I suppose you didn't know what to think and do before the school contacted you?"
"Yes." – the girl nodded, her whole being rebelling against the lie she told Remus – "Yes, it was hard. To realise there might be something dangerous within you, something you can't control... It's terrifying. You end up pushing away those you care about, fearing you might harm them."
"I know that feeling all too well." – sighed the young wizard, staring at the ground – "There's always been a sense that you understand me better than anyone else. Perhaps it's due to the shock and the fear of the unknown you experienced when your magic manifested."
"Indeed." – mumbled the witch.
'I wish I could tell you the truth, Remus!' – she thought, her lower lip caught between her teeth – 'But I fear even you might flee if you knew what I am. You're a werewolf, yes, but your danger is bound to the full moon. Moreover, there are ways one can protect themselves. How does one contain a demon once unleashed? I just hope you wouldn't be anywhere near me.'
"Flame?" – Remus' voice cut through Catherine's troubled thoughts – "Isn't that Frank Longbottom?"
Catherine lifted her head and saw Frank, standing in the middle of High Street with a guitar, playing something that sounded like Smoke on the Water by Deep Purple. A small crowd had gathered, laughing, and even tossing a few Knuts his way.
"What's going on?" – the young witch inquired, her curiosity piqued by the choice of song from the Pure-blood wizard.
"Oh, hi, Flame!" – the fourth-year grinned, as he paused his impromptu performance – "As you see, I'm paying the price for an ill-placed bet with Greg."
"And you chose to serenade the only wizarding village in Britain with a Muggle hard rock anthem?" – the girl said, amused, thinking that her brother really had a weird sense of humour.
"Absolutely!" – Frank's shoulders slumped in mock defeat – "But in my defence, I thought I had a winning hand. If I'd won, Greg would be here instead, singing Spellbound by You."
"My mom used to love this song." – mumbled Remus, mostly to himself.
"And what was the bet, if it's not a secret?" – Catherine asked with curiosity, feeling regret she wouldn't be able to witness the spectacle of her brother throwing all his composure and cool persona aside to sing an all-time favourite song to every housewitch.
"I wagered we'd lose the game to Hufflepuff." – sighed the boy.
"Serves you right if you bet against our team!" – chuckled the young witch.
"I just thought it was a sure betting opportunity, after seeing how Potter and Black were eying Greg, I couldn't have imagined they would work as a team!" – admitted Frank, sulkily.
"Hence, now you're playing until you earn a Galleon!" – laughed Greg, who had emerged from the nearby Apothecary.
"You have no mercy, my Lord!" – Frank moaned theatrically, while Greg simply shrugged and joined the other Gryffindor fourth-years nearby.
"Well, good luck!" – Catherine smiled, tossing a few Sickles to the unfortunate street artist.
"Would you like to grab lunch?" – Catherine asked Remus, then added – "My treat."
"You don't have to." – he replied, his cheeks turning crimson.
"I don't have to, but I want to!" – the girl declared firmly – "You know, it's pointless to have money if you don't use it to take care of the people who are dear to you. And you, Remus Lupin, you're definitely one of those people for me! Now, let's go to The Three Broomstick and get some sandwiches! We can eat them outside."
With determination, Catherine grasped Remus's hand, quelling any protests, and led him towards the popular pub. They took a shortcut through some backstreets and were just about to turn onto High Street when a familiar female voice prompted them to stop.
"I don't understand why you'd refuse my offer to treat you to lunch, Sev! It's just a sandwich!"
"It's a matter of principle! Besides, these particular sandwiches don't look like anything I would eat." – Snape's voice replied, as Remus and Catherine finally spotted their two classmates. Severus was leaning against the wall of The Three Broomsticks, while Lily stood opposite him, near the Hogsmeade Hattery.
"I can't comprehend your principles!" – Lily retorted – "You turn a blind eye to so many despicable things your Slytherin friends do, and then you show scruples about something that's not a big deal at all! I've seen plenty of people treating their friends to a meal or a drink!"
"I'm sure you have!" – sneered the black-haired boy.
"What's that supposed to mean?" – the witch demanded angrily.
"It means the whole school knows how much Potter, Black, and Plantier like to flaunt their wealth, showing 'generosity' left and right. I'm certain there are plenty of people without pride who don't mind being bought, but I am not one of them!"
"This is ridiculous! I don't know what Potter and Black do and I don't care, but Catherine has never flaunted her wealth!" – Lily defended her friend vehemently.
"Of course not!" – Snape's tone dripped with sarcasm – "She's not the one purchasing extravagant clothes and accessories, showcasing them to everyone. She's also not the one squandering Galleons on frivolous gifts for her so-called friends every time she visits Hogsmeade! Honestly, Lily, you need to spend less time with her!"
"I can decide myself who I spend my time with!" – snapped Lily, her frustration evident – "I'll say it again: stop this already! You've gone too far! You hexed her hair off, and she broke your nose, for Merlin's sake! What will it take for the two of you to stop provoking each other every chance you get! It's so childish!"
"Perhaps Snape would like me to throw some Galleons his way too?" – Catherine's cold voice startled Snape and Lily – "Then he could finally afford some necessities like shampoo and toothpaste."
The Slytherin turned around and shot a murderous glance at the two Gryffindors, standing just a few metres away from him.
"You can keep your gold." – he scoffed – "You'll need it to pay people to tolerate your bald head and not flee."
"I have enough to spare." – the girl retorted with a smile, though her jade-green eyes flashed with barely contained anger - "I could even pay someone to go on a date with you. Redheads, I presume?"
Snape's hand tightened around his wand, his lips trembling with anger as he aimed it at Catherine. Remus moved to intervene, but his friend halted him with a subtle shake of her head, her focus unwavering on the Slytherin. She had never encountered anyone who could ignite her fury like Severus Snape.
The young witch didn't want to proclaim she hated him, because she refused to deem his as important enough to deserve her hatred. Nevertheless, in that moment, Catherine was experiencing a sense of detest that she was confident went as close to hatred as possible.
"Don't bother, Moony." – she interjected – "As we've recently learned, you don't need a wand to deal with him. Say, Snivellus, did you like being beaten by a girl that much that you can't wait for another round?"
"This is more than enough! I've had it with both of you! Why do you constantly ruin my time!" – yelled Lily on the verge of tears, as she ran away towards High Street.
Severus looked stunned after her. He quickly put away his wand and turned around, determined to follow the red-headed Gryffindor. Just before he left, however, he glanced over his shoulder, his cold black eyes meeting Catherine's green ones.
"I understand your need this image to protect your ego, but do you truly believe I couldn't physically overpower you if I chose to?"
The young witch was left speechless, grappling with the implications of Snape's words. She had never considered that Snape might willingly refrain from engaging in a physical confrontation. Her assumption of superiority had been shattered, leaving her bewildered.
'But why?' – she thought, confused – 'He was not shy about hexing my hair off. Why would he stop if he was truly able to protect himself back then?'
"Flame?" – Remus's concerned voice broke through her thoughts.
"I'm fine, Moony! I'll go grab those sandwiches. You can wait outside or join me." – she said, forcing herself to sound cheerful.
The boy opted to wait in front of The Three Broomsticks, where they bumped into Philippa Finch from Hufflepuff, with whom Remus shared Arithmancy classes. They engaged in a conversation about numbers and formulas, topics that left Catherine feeling lost. Deciding to escape the scholarly discourse, she slipped into the dark, cool interior of the pub and patiently queued to order their lunch from Madame Rosmerta.
The girl ordered two ham and cheese sandwiches and two bottles of lemonade, then moved to the side to wait for their food to be prepared. Leaning against a nearby wall, she surveyed the premises. There weren't many patrons at this hour, as most people preferred to enjoy the sunny weather outside. However, Catherine noticed a familiar glint of auburn hair at one of the tables, half-hidden beneath the stairs.
As her eyes adjusted to the dim atmosphere, the Gryffindor recognised the figures of Professor Thorne and Professor McGonagall. They appeared to be engrossed in conversation, their tea completely forgotten. Thorne's hand gently cupped McGonagall's cheek, their faces closer than they should have been. The girl felt uncomfortable witnessing such an intimate scene but couldn't tear her eyes away.
"Here are your sandwiches, darling!" – Madame Rosmerta pushed a paper bag into the girl's hands, startling her and prompting her to quickly dash outside.
"What's wrong?" – Remus asked, puzzled by his friend's flushed face.
"Nothing! Let's eat!" – the girl replied, a bit too enthusiastically.
The two Gryffindors headed down High Street in search of a good spot to sit and have lunch. As they approached the Post Office, they heard a strange sound.
'Is this a car? No, it can't be.' – thought the young witch, feeling confused.
A dark blue Rolls-Royce Corniche with tinted windows slowly made its way through the stunned students, stopping in front of the Hogsmeade Time Treasures, where various antiques were on display. A small crowd of students immediately gathered around the unfamiliar mode of transportation.
"Isn't this a Muggle car?" – exclaimed Remus, surprised – "I thought Muggle technologies wouldn't work in an area with so much magic!"
"They would, if you enchant them." – said Catherine, feeling a cold shiver run down her spine. She scanned the faces around but couldn't spot Greg anywhere. Her heart pounded wildly as her hand slipped into her pocket, seizing her wand tightly and pulling it out, ready for whatever might come next. She wasn't sure what she would do with it, but Catherine McMahon was painfully aware that one of her family's worst fears was becoming a reality. There was only one type of people who would use a Muggle car in an all-wizarding village: aristocrats.
Meanwhile, the car's driver promptly exited his seat and opened the back door. A tall, dark-haired man in his thirties emerged from the vehicle and strode confidently toward the antique store. He was dressed in a sleek, well-tailored Muggle suit that accentuated his elegant silhouette. Abruptly, he halted and turned around, catching sight of the stunned students staring at him intently. With his deep-set topaz-blue eyes and loosely flowing, wavy brown hair, he exuded an aura of refined elegance. Sharp, symmetrical features added to his striking appearance, with a strong jawline that neatly framed his straight nose. A perfectly groomed short beard accentuated the chiselled contours of his face. There was a defiant aura of potent magical power and arrogance surrounding the newcomer.
Catherine's mouth went dry, and she doubted she could even summon the strength to cast a spell if necessary. She knew she stood no chance against the wizard several paces away. Though she had only glimpsed him from afar before, there was no mistaking his identity.
"Hm, it seems we've arrived during a Hogwarts weekend!" – Duke Adrian Borealis remarked with an amused smile.
Catherine tightened her grip on her wand, feeling more vulnerable than ever before. Suddenly, she felt a sharp tug and found herself pulled into a nearby alley. Before she could react, everything went black, and she felt pressure from all sides, her eardrums throbbing painfully. When she opened her eyes again, she was standing in the middle of a dusty old room with a sagging bed, a dirty table, and two broken chairs.
"Well, Miss Plantier, it appears you still haven't learned that school rules apply to everyone. Twenty points from Gryffindor!" – hissed Carter Thorne, fuming with anger, his perfectly arranged hair now a total mess.
Carsilion Egbert tossed a Galleon to Madame Rosmerta, who flashed a seductive smile in return. He then picked up the tray carrying the pot of Silver Needle tea and two delicate cups, making his way to the table where Minerva McGonagall awaited him. He had to admit that the barmaid of The Three Broomsticks was definitely his type, however, he found out with surprise that he was much more willing to spend the afternoon, talking with the shy and brilliant Transfiguration teacher, than having fun in bed with Rosmerta.
Minerva smiled gratefully when her colleague poured her a cup of the aromatic white tea with unforgettable delicate flower scent.
"Would you care for milk or sugar?" – asked Carsilion, filling his own cup.
"No, it would be a crime to spoil this rare treasure." – she replied, admiring the colour and the smell of the golden liquid.
"It's just tea." – the wizard smiled – "What's a crime is enduring something you don't enjoy simply to meet expectations."
"Are you still talking about the tea?" – asked Minerva, arching an eyebrow.
"Apologies, I have a lot on my mind lately." – said the man, his gaze fixed on Minerva's delicate yet stern features.
"I think we all do." – she sighed – "So many attacks, so many incidents, so many quarrels! Hogwarts doesn't seem like the peaceful haven it used to be. It's as if the turmoil of the world has seeped into our walls. Look at what happened to Miss Plantier!"
"I understand what you're saying, but that particular incident was probably not related to the rest of them." – the DADA teacher mused – "Miss Plantier and Mr Snape have been at each other's throats from the first day they set foot to Hogwarts. I mean, Severus has issues with their whole gang, but with Catherine, it's an explosive combination. For someone as gifted in magic as she is to resort to physical violence instead of spells, it's quite something. She must have been beyond herself with rage."
"And yet, what he did was unacceptable!" – McGonagall shook her head – "I'm not defending her outburst, but as I explained to Horace, I can understand her reaction to some degree."
"What did Horace say?" – asked Carsilion with curiosity.
"He whined for a while and then suggested we should pair Miss Plantier and Mr Snape for various tasks together because proximity creates understanding."
"Pff, was that the best thing he could come up with?" – the wizard asked, choking on his tea.
"Yeah, he's usually quite helpless when there's some friction between any of his favourite students." – explained Minerva with a hint of condescension.
"Well, not everyone could maintain such a strict and composed demeanour in every situation, my dear." – Carsilion flashed a smile, that caused the Transfiguration Professor to blush heavily.
"I wish that were true." – she said quietly – "These days, I've been on edge more often than not. With all the attacks against Muggle-borns, I start fearing every shadow. I'm terrified for my Muggle-born students and their families, especially because I'm not even sure they're safe here at Hogwarts. And it's affecting my teaching. Last week, I snapped at Peter Pettigrew for playing with his rat instead of turning it into a shoe straight away."
"Well, Mr Pettigrew does have the remarkable talent of making you want to yell at him." – shrugged the DADA teacher – "But for your own good, you should try to distinguish between your justifiable fears from those that are just a projection of your imagination. For instance, the school may not be as safe as it used to be, but it's still much safer than anywhere else because Dumbledore is with us."
"I know you're technically right." – sighed the witch – "However, even Albus can't stop this evil by himself. He was away the last couple of weeks, and it seems that this man's supporters are growing exponentially. Apparently, some of them have threatened members of the Prewett family!"
"I didn't know that." – admitted Carsilion – "But aren't the Prewetts all Pure-bloods?"
"They consider them blood traitors because they support protection of Muggles and advocate for the full integration of Muggle-borns wizards and witches." – Minerva elaborated reluctantly.
"What a load of crap!" – barked the other Professor, irritated – "That goes against everything we know about wizarding genetics! It makes no sense scientifically or ethically!"
"I'm afraid they care of neither. According to Dumbledore, their leader seeks ultimate power and control for his own benefit. For that, he'll use whatever ideology serves him to gain the most support." – McGonagall stated.
"These Dark wizards are the most dangerous." – growled Carsilion – "He needs to be stopped sooner rather than later."
"Albus is doing his best, but people seem hesitant to believe that the Ministry may not have the capacity to handle such a threat!" – the Transfiguration Professor exclaimed angrily, her beady eyes gleaming with determination – "Nevertheless, we must persist! Convincing even one person is a win!"
"Isn't that too much?" – asked the wizard softly.
"You don't need to be sarcastic!" – complained the woman.
"No, that's not what I meant!" – the Marquess waved his hand apologetically – "I'm simply concerned whether this burden of responsibility and stress might be too much for you to bear alone."
"I'm the Deputy Headmistress!" – she declared, lifting her chin slightly – "It's my duty to take responsibility!"
Carter gently cupped her cheek with his hand, his sky-blue eyes locked intensely with her dark ones as he slowly leaned in closer. His whisper was soft, eliciting goosebumps that swept over her entire body.
"There's only as much burden as we can carry, Minerva! If you only wish, I'm ready to share some of yours at any moment."
The witch's face turned bright red, but she didn't flinch as Carsilion's lips slowly approached hers. She felt his burningly hot breath on her skin when they were rudely interrupted by the coquettish voice of Madame Rosmerta.
"I'm sorry to disturb you, Professor, but this letter has just arrived for you, delivered by a Swiftwing owl!"
While Minerva's eyes were shooting daggers at the beautiful landlady, Carter Thorne quickly opened the small envelope and scanned its contents. His complexion paled; he stood abruptly, his chair clattering to the floor.
"I'm terribly sorry, but there's an urgent matter I must attend to. It was a pleasure, Minerva. I'll see you at the castle."
With that, he rushed through the door of the inn, as if a whole pride of manticores was chasing after him.
'It's like he knows when I'm having a good time and always arrives to ruin it for me!' – the wizard thought, franticly looking around, trying to catch a glimpse of every student's face – 'Fuck my luck! Why can't he shop for his stupid antiques some other time! Where's the girl, though? I'm sure I spotted her leaving the castle with Lupin!'
Carsilion felt tempted to use the Spirit of Air to find Catherine. However, he didn't dare resort to Air Magic so close to Adrian, who was also an Air Mage and could sense his presence even if he wasn't open to his element at that particular moment. Sprinting down High Street, trying to ignore the astonished faces of his students who had probably never imagined their composed and cold DADA Professor capable of such a sprint, the Marquess noticed a small crowd gathered around what appeared to be a Muggle car. It took only a few moments for Carsilion to recognise the Head of House Borealis as he exited the vehicle; he also spotted Catherine at the back of the crowd, staring wide-eyed at the Duke, her hand gripping her wand in desperation.
'It seems she does know who he is after all.' – the Professor thought briefly before springing into action, knowing he had very little time before either the girl did something incredibly stupid yet satisfying, such as hexing the smug bastard, or before he noticed them. Carsilion wasn't sure if Adrian would have detected anything suspicious about Catherine, but he was definitely worried that, due to her unusual magical aura, he would become intrigued. Adrian Borealis snooping around Catherine Plantier was an absolute nightmare they needed to prevent at all costs. Furthermore, if the Duke glanced in the girl's direction, he might have noticed him as well, and that would have opened up a whole other set of questions that the Marquess had absolutely no desire to answer. Even if he claimed he was there to look after Greg McMahon, the fact he was not using his real name, would have highlighted way too many suspicious circumstances which could swiftly prompt the aristocrats to investigate what was happening at Hogwarts.
What bothered Carsilion the most was the possibility of Lucius Malfoy informing Adrian that this lanky girl, who coincidentally had eyes remarkably similar to those of Louisa McMahon, was able to speak Parseltongue. While currently, that was not a particular risk, due to Borealis' lack of attention to any member of the Malfoys and Lucius' misunderstanding of the importance of what he knew, that would not have been the case if they were actively looking for odd occurrences at Hogwarts and relying on people they could use to gather this information.
All these thoughts raced through the DADA teacher's mind as he discreetly slipped into the nearest shadowy alley, ensuring he remained unnoticed. Swiftly, he reached out, grasped Catherine's upper arm, and yanked her toward himself, apparating at the same moment. Internally, he cursed the measures he had to take to keep all the secrets intact.
Once they arrived in the grimy, disreputable room that Dumbledore reserved for clandestine meetings with those preferring anonymity—a space he had generously allowed Carsilion to use as needed—Professor Carter Thorne struggled to regain his composure. He was painfully aware of his dishevelled hair and the sweat that tainted his usually pristine appearance.
"Well, Miss Plantier, it appears you still haven't learned that school rules apply to everyone. Twenty points from Gryffindor!" – he hissed, trying to appear as angry as possible to mask his relief and regret over what he was about to do.
"There is no such rule!" – Catherine objected, rubbing her arm where he had probably hold her a bit too tightly – "And what you have just done could be considered kidnapping! Where the hell are we?"
"Watch your language, Miss Plantier!" – the Professor answered coldly – "This room in the Hog's Head Inn is kept by Hogwarts for any business we teachers might need to conduct in Hogsmeade, including disciplining students without causing a commotion in public spaces. And yes, there is a rule against carelessly brandishing your wand. It's for public safety, which we must observe as guests of the village. Given your track record, nobody knows what kind of ill-considered spells you might have cast at some of your classmates who happened to displease you."
"That was not the case!" – the young witch responded angrily.
"Then why was your wand out?" – asked Carsilion, well aware she wouldn't answer honestly but determined to make her more cautious to prevent future incidents – "I'm sure that as a Muggle-born you are not aware, but the gentleman who exited the car is a very important person in our world. I'll be damned if I allow one of my students to cause ruckus in front of Duke Adrian Borealis. You're already looking… peculiar after the incident, we can't afford to showcase Hogwarts as a place where there are no rules and discipline! If anything, we would like to attract more aristocrats to study here."
Carsilion was amazed he hadn't choked on his own words, but he must have sounded convincing because Catherine's eyes brimmed with tears of anger, likely provoked by his comment about her appearance. She bit her lip, struggling to contain her temper. In a hoarse voice, she barely managed to mumble: "I understand, Professor. May I leave?"
"Yes, you may, but I advise you to return to the castle. As I said, we want to make a good impression to His Grace, and you don't seem to be in the right sprit to do so." – the Marquess said, feeling utterly disgusted with himself for eroding the trust his best friend's daughter had in him. Moreover, simulating the obsequious behaviour others showed Adrian Borealis made him physically sick.
Carsilion stoically endured Catherine's gaze full of dislike and apparent suspicion. She looked like someone who had just realised they were in the company of a dangerous person and was desperately looking for a way out.
'Back to protecting her from the shadows as the mean Professor Thorne.' – he thought bitterly, observing the young witch make a beeline for the door. She cast a wary glance over her shoulder, as if she expected him to hex her – 'But it's better if she's wary of me! She can't trust people around her. Many of them would sell her to the aristocrats in an instant if they knew who she was and how incredibly valuable that information would be to any of the major Houses. This is not a game! She's in real danger! I must speak to Edward.'
With a faint crack, the Marquess disapparated from the dirty room, while at the same time, a very upset teenage girl slammed the front door of the inn as she appeared back on High Street.
Catherine ambled along, oblivious to her surroundings. The rush of adrenaline she felt upon encountering Adrian Borealis and the unexpected abduction to the Hog's Head Inn was now dissipating, leaving her feeling drained and disoriented.
She was at a loss with Carter Thorne's behaviour. For over two years, he had been unyieldingly strict and harsh with her, but suddenly he had transformed into a compassionate and understanding mentor. The girl couldn't shake the memory of him comforting her as she wept over her lost hair; for a fleeting moment, she had felt secure in his presence. Yet now, he was the one dragging her off the street, deducting points from Gryffindor over some made-up rule, and talking about Adrian Borealis as if he was his personal idol. Additionally, he had offended her on her looks, which had become the way they were under his watch.
'Is he already a spy or just a wannabe tool for House Borealis?' – the witch pondered, her fingers instinctively searching for the braid that was no longer there. She had always twirled her hair when anxious or lost in thought, and its absence seemed to impair her cognitive abilities to a certain degree.
'In any case, he doesn't know who I am, or he would have delivered me straight to the Duke's hands right there and then. Instead, he took me away as not to embarrass him or try to attack someone in front of Borealis. He didn't know I was actually holding my wand ready in order to protect myself. While his ignorance serves me well for now, I must tread carefully around Thorne and not allow him to notice anything unusual. He's not an ally, that's for certain!' – reasoned the girl, veering towards The Three Broomsticks.
It seemed that everything was back to normal, with no aristocrats in sight except for her and Greg, who were enjoying ice cream nearby with Lily, Frank, and a group of fourth-years.
'I need to tell him about that.' – she thought briefly before being roughly shaken by Remus, who appeared out of nowhere, looking extremely distressed and worried.
"Flame! Where the hell have you been? Do you know how much you scared me?! Why did you vanish like that?" – he asked in a rare display of intense emotions.
"I'm sorry, Moony!" – the girl apologised sincerely – "I never meant to frighten you or disappear in the first place."
"I don't understand! What's wrong with Professor Thorne?! This behaviour is so erratic!" – exclaimed the young wizard after Catherine briefly recounted the story of her disappearance, conveniently omitting the part where she had her wand ready in her hand.
"According to his own words, he wanted to ensure Duke Adrian Borealis gets the best impression of Hogwarts. Maybe he hopes to be noticed by him or something." – said the young witch, attempting not to reveal too much knowledge about aristocrats and their affairs.
"Then, he needs to get in line." – the boy chuckled grimly.
"What do you mean?" – asked the girl, surprised.
"Well, you missed it, but after that guy entered the store, it was like the whole Slytherin House appeared out of thin air. I have never seen them so excited. Once he exited the building, they were all bows and curtsies, but honestly, he looked at them like they were dirt on the alley he was walking on." – Remus explained with a hint of satisfaction, then added – "Lucius Malfoy even went ahead and introduced himself. I have never seen him so subservient. It was mind-blowing. Naturally, the Duke didn't pay him any attention; he just nodded and got back to his car. Malfoy looked as if he had been slapped. I bet he had never even dreamt of someone ignoring him like that. I don't know why he would expect any different, though."
Catherine looked at Moony, taken aback. He rarely spoke so strongly about anything. This was something new she had somehow missed before.
"I didn't realise you harboured such a disdain for aristocrats. You seemed at ease with McMahon." – she remarked casually.
"I don't hold anything against Greg, but he hardly behaves like an aristocrat." – Remus explained, his amber eyes filled with sorrow – "I know you don't like him very much, but he's actually very helpful and friendly. Yet, that might change once he fully embraces his family's legacy. When I was… attacked, my parents spared no effort to find a cure. At one point, my father heard whispers that an aristocratic family possessed knowledge of a remedy for the werewolf curse. He pleaded at their doorstep, offering his life in return, but they refused even a meeting. That's the true face of the aristocracy everyone reveres and admires!"
"I'm so sorry, Moony!" – Catherine almost whispered, embracing her friend tightly, her mind racing – "Was it Greg's family that treated your father so callously?"
"I honestly have no idea. He never told me, and it doesn't really matter. Knowing the names of those with the power to cure me is futile when they refuse to share the knowledge" – shrugged the young wizard.
'Werewolves can be cured? Who would hoard such knowledge? I hope it's not my family! I understand Remus's animosity toward aristocrats. But would he resent me too? I must discover whom his father approached. Perhaps I can offer a permanent solution for Moony.' – Catherine thought frantically, feeling strong determination.
"The moment I leave you alone for a while, I find you in each other's arms. Do you have something to tell us?" – Sirius' annoyed voice startled the two friends.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, I forgot I needed to ask for you permission before hugging my friends!" – Catherine immediately retorted, her tone dripping with sarcasm as she flashed a mocking smile at the rest of the group who had just arrived.
"And you have the nerve to call me desperate!" – chuckled James, patting his sullen classmate on the back – "Don't mind him, Flame, he's been on edge for the whole trip to Hogsmeade. At least his mood matches the manure smell he exodes!"
"It's not funny! I showered twice!" – snapped Sirius, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment and frustration.
Catherine fought the urge to laugh, realising her friend was very prideful about his appearance, and hurting him wasn't her intention. Instead, she took a deep breath and quickly grabbed his hand, smiling wickedly.
"Don't be sulky, Sirius! I will be by your side regardless of the dung stench!"
James leaned over to Remus, whispering amusedly. "Does he realise she's only doing that because of those Dragonfire Delights he apparently promised her?"
"Probably not but let him live in his own happy world." – the other boy grinned, watching their friends stroll down High Street, coincidentally towards the location of the Honeydukes.
Remus Lupin's usual school breaks weren't something he truly looked forward to. Though he loved his parents, spending time with them had become daunting, especially in recent years. The painful loss of his sister, Caelia, had left a bleeding wound that could never truly heal. With each passing year, the ache seemed to deepen. The family's financial situation was dire, his father constantly away in search of any kind of job, often resorting to ones that were likely illegal. His mother, meanwhile, drifted between sleep and hallucination induced by powdered Gleamroot crystals or smoking Frostfire herb. Additionally, if Remus happened to be home during a full moon, the atmosphere became almost unbearable.
That's why the young wizard gladly accepted the plan to stay in school for Easter break, along with James, Sirius, and Catherine, the latter adamant she didn't want her parents to see her without any hair. As always, Peter's mother insisted that he came home for every holiday, so he departed together with most of the Hogwarts students.
The weather had been splendid the whole week, with abundant sunshine and a gentle breeze, allowing the Gryffindors to spend nearly every moment of the day somewhere around the school grounds. While Remus felt a bit anxious about not finishing as much schoolwork as he had planned, he also couldn't refuse the chance for some carefree time with his friends, who hadn't even thought about homework, and finished everything in the last minute. The boy couldn't help but envy them a bit. Despite considering himself above average as a student, he couldn't rival either James and Sirius or Catherine, who was usually very diligent compared to the boys, yet was in principle capable of excelling with much less effort in every subject.
However, even the happiest times came to their end, and for Remus, it happened on Sunday evening before the start of the new term. While the buzzing students were returning fresh from their vacation, he was patiently waiting for Madame Pomfrey to accompany him to the Whomping Willow once it got dark enough so nobody could see them.
"In the Astronomy reference book, I read that this month, it's going to be a Super moon. It shouldn't be as dreadful as a Blood moon, but if my observations are correct, your transformation might be more challenging than usual." – Catherine cautioned him the day before.
Even without her warning, Remus could already sense the looming dread of the impending full moon. Saturday night, he couldn't sleep at all, tossing and turning in his bed, ending up drenched in cold sweat. Despite his gnawing hunger at breakfast, the food on the Gryffindor table held no allure for him. He was restless the whole day, and when the sun finally began to set, all his senses sharpened painfully, while his mind was slowly slipping into an ominous fog.
The boy faintly felt the school matron, pushing him towards the door. As they walked through the dark school corridors, Remus could discern the subtle movements of living beings—students congregating in the Library or the Common Rooms. He swallowed hard, struggling to suppress the tremors coursing through his body.
By the time they reached the Whomping Willow and Madame Pomfrey cast a Freezing Charm to immobilise the vicious tree, Remus' pupils were already dilated, his muscles contorting in agonizing spasms. Half-conscious, he staggered through the underground tunnel leading to the Shrieking Shack. Each step was an excruciating battle against the encroaching darkness. Finally, collapsing onto the grimy floor of the building, he gasped for air, the weight of the transformation bearing down on him with merciless intensity.
It was completely dark inside, yet the young wizard was already able to see clearly without any light. Lying among the rubble, Remus felt tears streaming down his face. He was desperately clung to his last remnants of his human consciousness, knowing that battle was futile. Suddenly, a silver ray of moonlight pierced through the boards, covering the front windows of the house.
Remus felt as if the ground had disappeared beneath his feet, plunging him into a dark abyss. His body convulsed violently, fur sprouting everywhere. His hands morphed into deadly claws, his face contorting into a wolf's muzzle with sharp teeth. Fury surged within him as he realised, he was trapped inside the loathsome house.
Driven by the untamed instincts of the werewolf, he thrashed about the premises, slamming against the walls in a frenzied bid for escape and to satisfy his primal urges. Despite his youth, his body pulsed with ferocity, and he yearned for release from his overwhelming needs. The beast bit into his own thigh, seeking the warmth of vital blood, the taste of life fuelling his insatiable hunger. The moon called to him, and his brethren awaited deep within the Forbidden Forest. Yet, Remus was imprisoned, separated from his prey and kin by wizards who should have cowered before him, not ruled over him.
A heart-wrenching howl pierced the silence of the sleeping village of Hogsmeade, echoing under the frigid April moonlight.
A distant mournful howl prompted Catherine to lift her head and look around. Surprised at the effort such a simple motion required, the witch realised she was tied amidst the crumbling remnants of what must have once been a grand stone building. Her wrists and ankles were secured by invisible chains, spawning from the four directions of a huge magic circle, drawn on the ground. The lines, a deep crimson hue, shimmered in the fading afternoon light, casting an eerie glow upon the ruins, and filling the air with the metallic tang of blood.
The girl chuckled as she recognised the inscriptions written in Sylvanor around the edges of the circle, thinking about how weak and pitiful those who claimed to rule over magic were to resort to such a powerful ancient ritual just to stop a twelve-year-old girl.
'Twelve?' – Catherine thought through the daze engulfing her mind, struggling to focus amidst the pervasive pain coursing through her body, her vital energy nearly spent. Attempting to spread her wings, she found them unresponsive, broken and charred.
"Hurry up! If the human host dies like this, she could be unleashed. I am certain she had managed to leak enough of her power through the barrier!" – the girl's attention was seized by the impatient voice of a severe-looking, brawny, man with auburn hair and glowing silver eyes, standing just beyond the border of the circle.
"Keep it together, Walter!" – admonished one of the other Air Mages, who had been the one to finally bring her down by fatally damaging her right wing – "Give him a moment."
"A moment?" – barked Walter – "Do you not see where we stand, Aeolus? This was once the ballroom of my castle! How much longer must the House of Redmond suffer for the sins of House McMahon?"
"You're not the only one who has made sacrifices." – Aeolus Borealis countered firmly – "Half of Marquess Lovett's family was slaughtered, and we've also lost numerous relatives and allies! The blood of O'Dargan is still wet on the lines of the circle, not to mention Xavier Whiters paid the Price and his ashes are scattered somewhere on the fields of Bannockburn!"
"House McMahon remains steadfast in fulfilling its duty, ensuring that your sacrifices will not be in vain." – declared Robert McMahon in a solemn, subdued tone as he made his way through the small group of men. He was accompanied by a tall, distinguished grey-haired woman with eyes so blue they appeared violet. Despite his youth, the Duke bore the weight of his family's tragedy visibly on his sensitive features. A fresh gash marred his left cheek, casting a shadow of maturity beyond his twenty years, highlighted by the silver light emitted from his sad eyes.
"Marquess Whiters, Duke O'Dargan, whenever you're ready!" – the women, her violet eyes now glowing blue, spoke softly as she opened a simple wooden chest she was carrying, revealing an intricate dagger crafted from an unknown black metal. Without hesitation, she cut her palm and passed the weapon to the tall, bulky man with glowing red eyes and expression of pure hatred as he stared at Catherine. He also cut his palm swiftly passing the dagger to the short, fragile old wizard whose eyes were completely black as the depths of the earth. Tiernan O'Dargan repeated the motion of his comrades and silently offered the bloody blade to Robert who took it without hesitation. He approached the borders of the magic circle, slashing his left palm without hesitation.
"Remember, you have just one attempt to pierce her heart. If you fail the Skyfall Athame will crumble into dust due to the lack of demonic energy to be consumed, and we have just two of those in total. Be fast and precise!" – the woman's warning carried a hint of anxiety in her tone.
"Thank you for the advice and care, Your Grace!" – answered Robert without turning back – "The support of House Prince will not be forgotten."
With those words, he took a deep breath and stepped across the dark red line. Catherine strained against her chains, her fury mounting as the silly humans continued their idle chatter. They sought to capture her once more, condemning her to the depths of her prison, where she would languish for years until another McMahon girl was born, offering her a chance to escape into the real world. She attempted to summon Fiendfyre and obliterate the boy once and for all, but the chains, reinforced by the sacrifice of the four witches whose lives were used to summon the magic circle, held her fast, absorbing her powers like the parched earth absorbed the blood of the countless Muggles, wizards, and witches she had slain in the past week.
The chubby blond girl, dressed in a ragged blue dress, locked her red eyes with the man standing in front of her and smiled, revealing her sharp teeth.
"Come on, big brother! You've always cheated when playing with me! Is this your honour – stabbing your little sister while she's tied, and her wings broken?" – she goaded him, her voice hoarse and low.
"You are not my little sister." – replied Robert impassively, his hand firmly gripping the Skyfall Athame as his blood was mixing with the blood of the other three Elementalists – "My little sister was a gentle girl who loved every living thing. She could spend hours reading fairy tales to our younger brothers. The very same that you killed mercilessly. My Erin adored music and for her there was no greater pleasure than listening to our mother's songs. The same one you silenced forever. My Erin was so much more than a vessel for you!"
Catherine laughed wholeheartedly. The males in the McMahon's family had always been so pathetic. No matter how many times they had failed, they kept trying to elicit some sort of an emotional response or guilt from a demon. The Erin girl was much more pragmatic. She had realised she stood no chance once their powers began intertwining. The vessel did put up a fight initially, but eventually admitted defeat and succumbed to an eternal slumber, relinquishing control over her body and soul.
"So what? Do you want me to tell you in details how much I enjoyed killing your whiny little brothers or you would just go ahead and use that dagger you hold to destroy your sister's soul forever in order to postpone my inevitable escape?" – she smirked, enjoying the sight of the wizard's shaking fists and the wind that was promptly turning into a hurricane, powered by the Duke's rage – "That's the problem with you, mortals. You're so eager to throw away your miserable lives and those of your loved ones for achievements that are ultimately meaningless. All these efforts amount to nothing. I can wait until another girl cries out with your blood in her veins. How many more lives will you lose before you give up on this futile struggle?"
"The House McMahon will always fight the darkness! It's our duty and honour!" – Robert proclaimed, his voice ringing loud and clear, earning a few stern nods from the aristocrats behind him as he drove the Skyfall Athame, coated with the four types of elemental magic, straight into the girl's heart.
The piercing scream, full of insane rage, tore Erin McMahon's vocal cords. Catherine felt her consciousness separating from her ancestor's dying body. She saw Robert standing above his sister, head bowed and hand still gripping the dagger. A hot tear rolled down his cheek and dropped on the girl's pale lips.
"There's very little honour in our family." – he whispered almost inaudibly – "So many lives lost in the past week, all cursing our blood and wishing you had never been born. And despite knowing they were right, if I had to choose, I'd never give up the twelve years spent with you! That's how selfish I truly am. Rest in peace, Lady Erin Faye McMahon."
Catherine woke up, drenched in cold sweat, the myriad of images still vivid in her mind. She knew this was no ordinary nightmare; it felt all too real. She was able to hear and feel everything - she even smelled the burning wood, mixed with the scent of a battlefield. What was worse, she felt like a participant in the events unfolding before her. She was Erin, yet she was something else, a truth she chose not to confront. The memory of the sensation as the dagger ended her life and sealed the demon outside the realm of the living made the young witch choked. She could clearly feel the potent magical link to the demon's power that remained unbroken despite the death of its host.
Sitting in her four-poster bed, the girl found the room surprisingly bright, illuminated by the full moon casting a pool of light in the centre of the round space shared by the Gryffindor third-year girls. Her roommates lay sound asleep, their gentle breathing the only sound breaking the silence. Catherine hugged her knees and buried her face between them, feeling tainted inside. Despite the absence of flames, she detected the faint, residual heat of a fire lingering in the room.
Lifting her head, the girl stared at her trembling, thin hands, which still looked childish, much like Erin's had. 'She was younger than me.' – the witch thought, feeling chills down her spine - 'Do these dreams mean that the demon is starting to awaken? Should I tell anyone about them?'
Attempting to quell the tremors of pure fear coursing through her body, Catherine gazed at the tranquillity of the night sky. Suddenly, she stopped shaking, her mind drifting away from her problems.
'I hope Remus' transformation wasn't too hard on him.' – she mused as she settled back to her bed without much hope of going back to sleep – 'We're very much alike, him and me. Except he lives in his nightmare, while mine only haunts my dreams for now. I must fight this! It is my life, my body and soul, and I'll be damned if I don't defend them with every fibre of my being!'
"What's on your mind tonight, Catherine?" – Dumbledore's voice carried a slight note of concern, startling the girl out of her reverie. She realised she had been absentmindedly holding her hands above the Headmaster's wounded palm, without truly focusing on mixing her magic with vital power.
"I'm sorry, Sir." – she quickly apologised – "I'll concentrate harder!"
"This isn't important, my girl. You appear rather fatigued and pale. Could it be the strain of your end-of-year examinations?" – asked the wizard with a kind smile, making Catherine shift uncomfortably on her chair, wondering if the Professor knew about the few illegal activities she was heavily involved in, together with her friends.
"I'm fine. Perhaps it's just the aftermath of my recent haircut." – she said, attempting a joke, earning a sympathetic glance from Dumbledore.
"It's quite unfortunate that we couldn't hasten the re-growth of your hair. I must confess, I could have done without the three howlers from your mother." – he remarked with a twinkling amusement in his eyes.
"I had hoped she wouldn't find out for a while." – the girl lamented – "Although I suppose it could have been worse. At least I didn't set Snape on fire. Otherwise, she would have come to personally drag me home."
"Curious, isn't it?" – remarked Dumbledore, reclining back in his chair. A soft blue light enveloped his hand, mending the wound without leaving a trace.
"What is?" – Catherine inquired, puzzled.
"That oftentimes, when we're hurt deeply by those who mean something to us, our reliance shifts from our magical nature to our inherent humanity." – the Headmaster elucidated, his hand unconsciously tapping his crooked nose.
"I'm afraid I don't understand, Sir." – the young witch admitted honestly.
"Don't fret over an old man's rambling." – Dumbledore said, winking at Catherine – "However, I see that you're still a bit anxious about your elemental inclination. You're doing great for someone who hasn't been trained at all yet! In my own school days, I once inadvertently set the curtains of my bed ablaze during my fourth year! Needless to say, I became significantly more cautious thereafter. Yet, such fears are not uncommon."
"Was anyone hurt?" – the girl asked, her mind drifting back to the scent of smoke lingering after her nightmare.
"Fortunately, no harm befell anyone, though poor Elphias Doge was so startled that he dashed from the Dormitory, convinced we were besieged by a horde of Hebridean Black dragons." – the wizard responded with a chuckle.
Catherine wasn't exactly certain whether Dumbledore was joking, but she was positive she couldn't hold that secret anymore. She needed someone to reassure her that everything would be alright, and regardless of whether she liked it or not, the Professor was the only one she could truly trust, who knew her identity, and who actually possessed knowledge that could be helpful.
"Professor, I need to tell you something." – she murmured, staring at her hands.
Dumbledore listened to the girl's account about her nightmares without interrupting her. Once she was done speaking, the Headmaster stood up and started pacing around the room, deeply in thought. After a few minutes, he approached the trembling girl and gently put his hand on her shoulder.
"How much do you know about the nature of the demon you carry, Catherine?" – he asked, his tone surprisingly gentle.
The witch lifted her teary eyes, the weight of her dreams unearthing buried emotions within her.
"Not much, honestly." – she confessed, trying to remember everything she had ever been told on the matter – "Actually, most of what I know comes from those dreams. Besides that, I have only been told the bare minimum – that Morgana le Fay foolishly entered into a contract with a demon when she was fifteen in order to finally be able to overpower her greatest rival, Merlin. She borrowed the strength of the demon for her lifetime, but once she died, the contract was passed to her female descendants in the main branch of the McMahon family. They became vessels of the demon and a barrier to prevent it from roaming free into our world. However, all girls were driven mad by their power and went on killing sprees before they could even reach adolescents. I believe this Erin I dreamt about must have been one of the oldest. Forced to eventually kill their daughters anyway, and in order to prevent the loss of innocent lives, my ancestors swore to kill every McMahon daughter on the day she was born. This is what they wrote in the Pact the aristocrats concluded after the Last Noble War that ended in 1558. Of course, our family used all kinds of spells and ancient magic rituals to prevent the birth of girls. With time, they really improved the tools they were using, and the last unfortunate vessel born was in the early 18th century. Well, I guess until…"
"Until you were born." – Dumbledore finished her sentence.
"Yes." – the girl nodded.
"What you've just shared largely aligns with the information your father provided me." – the wizard noted, resuming his pacing around the office – "However, I believe there are significant gaps in this narrative. I suspect that a misunderstanding of the nature of Morgana le Fay's contract lies at the heart of all the terrible events that unfolded afterwards."
"What misunderstanding could there be?" – asked Catherine, her heart pounding wildly.
"For starters, demons are very versatile kind of Dark creatures, ranging from simple and relatively weak servant-class spirits to entities akin to demigods." – explained Dumbledore, absently petting Fawkes who had alighted on his shoulder – "Additionally, your family appears to have operated under the assumption that the girls serving as vessels should be devoid of human emotions, which I feel is a grave mistake."
"You told me this before." – the young witch recalled – "When we first met at my home."
"Indeed." – smiled the Headmaster – "And I'm more than certain, after observing you, that I was right not supporting this approach. Suppressing your emotions deprives you of your greatest strength, my dear – your humanity."
"So you believe that embracing my humanity, even if it means acknowledging feelings like anger or hatred, could help contain the demon?" – the girl asked tentatively.
"Yes, though I sincerely doubt you are truly capable of hatred." – Dumbledore replied.
"I think you greatly underestimate my Slytherin blood, Sir." – the witch retorted with a smirk.
"And I think we both know Salazar Slytherin was not a villain. It is very easy to judge someone from the high standpoint of our time." – countered the wizard – "Furthermore, despite your perceived Slytherin qualities, my honest opinion is that you're a true descendant of all Four Founders. Since our first meeting, I've noticed this tireless thirst for knowledge Rowena Ravenclaw had. Your own choice of learning how to mend before learning how to destroy shows a deep connection to Helga Hufflepuff, whose unique method of healing you're already practicing. And if being sorted into Gryffindor does not persuade you how much of his blood runs into your veins, keep in mind he was one of the most accomplished Fire Mages who ever walked this Earth."
Catherine's eyes widened with surprise, completely taken aback by the realisation. First, that the healing magic she was practicing was something Hufflepuff excelled in, and second, that Godric Gryffindor was a Fire Mage. These facts hadn't been mentioned by her father or in the books she had access to.
"It seems to me you prefer thinking about yourself as some sort of a villain, my girl." – continued the old wizard – "Does it make it easier to accept the demon inside you?"
"I haven't really thought much about it." – admitted Catherine – "Maybe…after all, Erin apparently had been a kind and gentle girl, loved by everyone, and she killed countless of people… I am neither of those, then who knows what I could do if the demon takes over. It might be happening already for all I know!"
Dumbledore smiled sadly at the serious thirteen-year-old witch who spoke of her life and death with such resignation. "I understand why these dreams bother you, and I do think they have something to do with the demon. That's why we should start working on your Occlumency skills next year. However, it's important to understand, you're one hundred percent yourself, and the seal is still intact. I told you, it was crucial to understand the nature of the demon Morgana contracted and I happen to know a bit more about this than House McMahon."
"You do? How?" – Catherine almost shouted, jumping to her feet.
The Headmaster raised his hand in a calming manner. "Many years ago, during one of my travels abroad, I happened to encounter a copy of a very old Bulgarian book, called Родословие на демоните or Genealogy of Demons. There, I read fascinating stories and witness testimonies about some of the most powerful demons the Wizarding world has ever encountered. One story that stood out to me concerned Britain. According to the book, in some cave, hidden in our lands, lay a chest made from moon silver, where ancient Greek wizards had captured the demon Alecto after she almost destroyed Troy. Later, Irish druids travelled to Greece and acquired the chest, intending to use it as a weapon. From there, the trail disappeared. When your father first explained your family's curse to me, I immediately remembered that book."
"So, you think that the demon Morgana contracted was that Alecto?" – asked the young witch in awe.
"I believe we have good reason to believe so. This means we're potentially dealing with an ancient being with tremendous power. We need to learn more about her to anticipate her behaviour and keep you safe." – stated Dumbledore with a serene face.
"This dagger Robert used in my dream…" – said Catherine, contemplatively – "…do you know more about it?"
"No." – the Headmaster shook his head – "I have never heard about such an artefact, but from what you told me, I believe aristocrats should have a hold of them. However, your father hasn't mentioned anything about this to me, and if I understand correctly, the dagger seals the already leaked demonic power and kills the human host whose death otherwise would break the barrier if enough power had been released."
"That's also how I understood it." – mumbled the girl, lowering her gaze.
"Catherine!" – Dumbledore's voice was warm and compassionate as he continued – "I want you to know, this is not an option I would ever agree to! You can resist the curse, and I am certain we're going to find a way to end this once and for all!"
"I beg your pardon?" – asked the witch, shocked – "What do you mean once and for all? If there was a way, we would have found it by now!"
"Only death is irreversible, my girl. You know there must be a way to end that contract and extract the demon from you. We need more information and time to gather it. I promise you, we can do it! Would you believe me?" – asked the Headmaster.
"I believe you, Professor." – the witch answered – "I am not certain if I believe myself, though. The odds are not in my favour."
Fawkes silently took off from Dumbledore's shoulder and landed on the floor in front of Catherine, his beady eyes observing her with curiosity as she petted him with a sorrowful smile.
"It seems Fawkes believes in you too." – chuckled the older wizard – "You are not your ancestors, my dear! Regardless of what you saw, you are unique and special. Their sins are not your sins. If you're still looking for a confirmation, be aware that even if a small part of a demonic power, capable of using Fiendfyre, was tainting your magic, a true fire creature like a phoenix would never go near you and could even go as far as attacking you."
This visibly cheered up Catherine, who felt better than she had in a long while. Even her bald head didn't bother her anymore as she carefully rested it against the beautiful red and golden bird.
"It feels good to know this." – she admitted sincerely – "You're such a sweetheart, Fawkes! I can't even imagine you attacking anyone!"
"Oh, phoenixes are capable of causing a significant damage if they want, although they use true fire as a last resort." – explained Dumbledore – "A long time ago, I allowed Mr Olivander to take two feathers from Fawkes, and I'm certain that despite the gift, if it wasn't for me, he would have attacked the wizard."
"What do you mean by gift?" – asked Catherine curiously.
"For a phoenix to present you with a feather, you need to offer it an equally valuable gift. What they usually like are magical stones which are used for the finest enchanted jewelleries, but they don't accept every gift. My theory is that they prefer those bearing traces of someone's feelings like love, loyalty, friendship, etc."
"How astonishing!" – the young Gryffindor exclaimed, her mind quickly assessing where she could find such a stone to offer the unsuspected phoenix. She felt a bit uncomfortable planning this under Dumbledore's nose, but Remus was her top priority at that moment.
"Sir, thank you for believing I can win against the demon. You're probably the only one." – Catherine mumbled as she was about to leave the Headmaster's office.
"I'm not the only one, my dear." – the wizard's reassured her with a smile – "After all, it's our choices that show what we truly are, and you, Lady McMahon, you are everything the Darkness fears – a formidable warrior who could bring both life and death but chooses creation over destruction."
"I hope you're not mistaken, Professor." – responded Catherine without turning back, swiftly leaving the room.
A/n: This turned out to be the longest chapter, yet. There was a lot to be told so I couldn't stop writing :D I hope you enjoy it!
~Sailea~