Remus Lupin collapsed onto his bed in the boys' dormitory, exhaling a deep sigh of relief. He was immensely grateful the holidays were finally over. Waking up in a cold, snowy forest on Christmas Day was far from his idea of a pleasant time, but even that was better than dealing with his mother's drug-induced mood swings. He'd only seen his father three times over the break, and while the familiar ache of neglect still lingered, it was becoming easier to bear—because now, he had something to return to: Hogwarts.
The train ride back had been oddly quiet. Catherine, looking utterly exhausted, was quite grumpy and far less talkative than usual. Sirius barely said a word and seemed to avoid meeting Remus' eyes, leaving him with a strange sense of unease. James had done his best to keep things light-hearted, but there was only so much he could do with Peter's limited conversation skills and Remus' naturally quiet demeanour.
The door flew open as the rest of the boys piled into the bedroom. Peter darted over to his bed, flung open the trunk at its foot, and, after a quick rummage, emerged clutching Intermediate Transfiguration, looking utterly defeated.
"I knew I'd forgotten it here! Now I've got no homework done for tomorrow!" – he groaned in despair.
"We have Transfiguration tomorrow?" – Remus asked, sitting up in the bed.
"Yeah, McGonagall stopped by the Common Room after you left and handed out next term's schedules." – James replied, tossing Remus a folded piece of parchment – "Here's yours."
"Thanks." – Remus said, glancing over the schedule – "Astronomy on Tuesday night. Brilliant—let's hope we don't freeze to death."
"You could always ask Catherine to warm you up." – Sirius muttered, a sharp edge in his voice, still avoiding eye contact with his classmate.
"Mate!" – James exclaimed, his tone thick with exasperation.
Remus frowned, suspicion creeping into his thoughts. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Sirius finally turned, his stare cold and unwavering. "Take a guess."
"Is this about the kiss?" – Remus asked, tired of dancing around the obvious.
"What kiss?" – Peter chimed in, wide-eyed with curiosity.
"Well, our friend here turned out to be quite the wolf in sheep's clothing." – Sirius said, voice dripping with sarcasm – "Not only did he apparently have his fun with Flame, but he didn't even have the balls to properly date her! So, what did you do, Moony? Dragged her off to some dark corner of the school grounds, snogged her, and then told her it didn't mean anything? And to top it off, you hid it like a little wuss!"
"Sirius…" – James tried to cut in, but Remus waved him off, his amber eyes flashing with rare anger.
"Say what you want about me, but don't you dare insinuate that I took advantage of Catherine! I would never do that! You clearly have no idea what really happened between us—or maybe you do, and you've chosen to believe the jealous story you've cooked up. I'm not going to explain myself to you. This is between Flame and me. But for the record, yes, we remain just friends. I did think about your feelings, even if you refuse to believe it. Honestly, though, I think what really pisses you off is that you're the one who doesn't have the balls to date her!"
Sirius, enraged, drew his wand, but before anything could happen, James leapt between them, trying to diffuse the situation. Peter stood frozen, his mouth agape, eyes wide with fear.
"Forget it!" – Sirius snarled, storming out of the dormitory and slamming the door behind him.
"What a fucking mess!" – James muttered, running a hand through his hair – "I really thought he'd have calmed down by now. I'm sorry, Moony! It's my fault. I acted like a complete idiot and got drunk during the holidays, letting something slip. He figured it out from there, and I tried to cover it, but he didn't buy it."
"It's not your fault." – Remus sighed – "I wasn't sure hiding it from him was a good idea in the first place. Secrets have a way of coming out when you least expect them. I'm just... disappointed. I've always had his back, and even now, I think he should tell Catherine how he feels."
"I know, but he's so stubborn and emotional about certain topics." – James said, shaking his head, clearly drained – "I think he'll apologise eventually—this was out of line, and I'll make sure he knows it."
"Don't get more involved, James." – Remus replied quietly, sadness creeping into his voice – "I don't want additional tension between us. And don't tell Catherine either. She'll flip, and they'll end up in a huge fight."
"It would be a miracle if she didn't hex his head off." – James remarked with a smirk – "Maybe that's what he needs after all."
"But it's not what she needs." – Remus sighed again – "You saw how pale she was. And she's lost even more weight. It looks like she's barely getting any sleep as it is. I don't completely understand what's happening to her, but I don't want to add more stress when she's already on the edge."
"Yeah, you're right." – James agreed, glancing at Peter – "Keep your mouth shut, alright?"
"Of course." – the short boy nodded seriously – "But... what about the potion?"
"What do you mean?" – James snapped, his frustration resurfacing – "We keep going, as planned. No matter how pissed Sirius is, he's not going to throw away all the work we've put in."
"I've begged you to stop this madness more times than I can count." – Remus groaned, rubbing his face with his hands.
"There's no chance in hell we're giving up now!" – James insisted, his voice firm, though a hint of worry flickered in his eyes. He couldn't help but wonder if Sirius was still as committed to their plan on becoming Animagi.
The new term began with a relentless snowstorm outside and a mountain of assignments that felt like an avalanche burying the fourth-years. Both McGonagall and Flitwick had introduced new topics, and by Monday lunch, Catherine was completely overwhelmed—two essays to write and an entire book to read, already dreading the afternoon classes with Professor Kettleburn.
As she trudged toward the edge of the Forbidden Forest for Care of Magical Creatures, the girl had quite a hard time walking due to the excessive amount of snow, reaching above her knees. She stumbled a few times, barely keeping her balance.
'My socks are soaking wet.' – she thought irritably – 'I wonder if there's a way to dry them with magic without accidentally setting myself on fire.'
"Careful!" – James called, grabbing her arm to steady her as she wobbled – "I don't get why they didn't cancel today's lesson. Are we studying Yetis or something?"
"Too bad we've already covered the salamanders." – Sirius joked, earning an angry glance from Catherine.
Their complaints, however, were quickly forgotten when they reached the clearing and saw a unicorn so pure white that it made the snow around it look dull by comparison. The elegant creature paced nervously, bound by what looked like a shimmering rope of gold.
"Now this is a rare sight!" – James exclaimed, clearly impressed – "I can't believe Kettleburn managed to catch a unicorn! They're strong creatures. I wonder why it's not trying to break free."
"That's because the rope is made from Veela hair." – Catherine said, standing on her toes to get a better view over the heads of her excited classmates.
"How do you know?" – Sirius asked, surprised.
"Because it's the only way to capture a unicorn." – she replied with a shrug – "That's why they're almost never caught—Veela hair ropes are incredibly rare. Honestly, I'd say they're harder to come by than a unicorn itself."
"Now, I'm really intrigued!" – Sirius chuckled – "Maybe Dumbledore found a pot of gold somewhere and decided to splurge it on the school."
"A pot would not be enough." – Catherine smirked, glancing around – "Why are there so many people here?"
Indeed, the clearing was unusually crowded. Alongside their own group, there were Hufflepuffs milling about and, more surprisingly, Gryffindor fifth-years clustered at the front.
"Can I have your attention, please!" – Professor Kettleburn's voice boomed over the crowd – "We've got quite a gathering today, so I need absolute silence. As you can see, the school has managed to acquire a real unicorn for our Care of Magical Creatures class. I'd like to extend a special thanks to Greg McMahon and his family for making this possible."
"They paid for that?" – James muttered, glaring at Greg's back with obvious disdain.
"Greg's mom's a Veela." – Peter whispered in awe.
"Half Veela." – Catherine corrected automatically. Noticing their eyes on her, she added quickly – "But I suppose that makes it easier for his family to get hold of Veela hair."
"I'm so sick of this guy's showing off!" – James hissed through clenched teeth – "He can't stand it unless everyone's admiring him."
"As you've probably noticed, there are a lot of you here today." – Professor Kettleburn continued – "That's because we can't keep the unicorn restrained for too long. It's stressful for the creature, and you can tell when it starts affecting it by the way its coat would change colour. We've merged as many classes as possible this week so you can all see it while it's still here."
Catherine stopped listening, her gaze fixed on the unicorn. She could sense the immense magical power radiating from it—much different from the one of a phoenix, perhaps because it wasn't a creature of fire. What puzzled her most was why her family would go to such lengths for something as mundane as helping with a school lesson. It felt like a shallow display of wealth and influence, but she knew there had to be more to it than mere showing off.
Catherine bit her lower lip in frustration, recalling the argument she'd had with her father before returning to Hogwarts—a fight that ended with her storming off and locking herself in her room for the rest of the evening. Granted, she'd been on edge due to the lack of Dreamless Sleep Potion, which she'd relied on while staying with the Potters, but her father's attitude had been especially aggravating. She had made a simple request: to be provided with information about the other major Houses. She thought it would be useful when she inevitably faced them in the future, and she also secretly hoped it might help her discover who could hold the key to curing a werewolf.
But the Duke had flatly refused, stating that such information was reserved for the Head of the House and his heir. His condescending response had infuriated Catherine to the point where her magic flared, causing the fire in the hearth to explode and burn a hole in a nearby bookcase. The brief satisfaction of asserting her power had been dulled by the nausea that plagued her through the night, leaving her in a foul mood for the entire journey back to school.
The young witch wasn't about to give up on her quest for answers, but the way her family treated her—as if she were some helpless child in need of protection—left her simmering with irritation. She wasn't weak, and she resented being locked away when she was perfectly capable of handling the dangers around her.
Suddenly, the students began to move and split into groups. Blinking in confusion, Catherine realised she had completely missed the assignment, too lost in her own thoughts to notice what was happening.
"Groups of three!" – Kettleburn shouted above the chatter, moving slowly among the students – "Two girls and one boy, to avoid upsetting the unicorn! They really can't stand males! Miss Plantier, if you're unsure where to go, join Mr McMahon and Miss Evans for the first tour. You might need to go again with another group afterward—I want everyone to have a chance to observe the creature up close."
Despite Sirius and James' exasperated looks, Catherine followed her teacher's instructions and quietly joined her brother and Lily. The red-haired witch was practically glowing with excitement, her emerald-green eyes sparkling with anticipation.
"Daisy, come over here! He's magnificent from this angle!" – Lily whispered, crouching behind a large log.
"I see it just fine from where I stand." – Catherine replied a bit stiffly.
"What's going on with you?" – Greg asked in a hushed tone, noticing his sister's sour mood.
"Nothing much." – she replied with a crooked smile – "Just wondering why House McMahon is bending over backward to improve Hogwarts' Care of Magical Creatures class. But I suppose that information's only shared with the heir, not someone useless like me."
Greg frowned, keeping his voice low. "Why would you say that? You know we do everything possible to gain favour with the Houses we can sway our way. It's all for you after all!"
Catherine's expression darkened. "Put yourself in my shoes, Greg. Not only do I have to constantly worry about the... thing inside me, but I also have to watch my back around aristocrats who would probably want to wipe us out if they knew I existed. Both of those are massive threats hanging over me, and I'm just supposed to wait? How can I prepare or protect myself without knowing anything? I asked Dad for information about the major Houses, and he refused because such knowledge was meant only for his first-born."
Greg shifted uncomfortably. He wasn't sure why their father insisted on keeping Catherine in the dark, but she had a valid point. Not being happy with his own role in the family dynamic, he completely disagreed with how their parents and Carsilion treated his sister—as if she were a rebellious child who needed to be controlled and protected from everything.
'It's like they're trying to lock her away in some bubble, keeping her safe from the world.' – he thought, his lips tightening with frustration – 'But they don't realise that confining someone as powerful and capable as her only makes her miserable, driving her to be unstable. That's why she acts so volatile and unpredictable at home. The Catherine I know here at Hogwarts is nothing like the person she becomes at Feywood Height.'
"Would you trust me to give you the information you want?" – Greg suddenly asked, prompting his sister to look at him, eyes wide with disbelief.
"Why would you do that?" – she asked, her tone edged with suspicion.
"Believe it or not, because I agree with you." – the boy replied simply – "I don't know everything, but I can tell you some core facts about the other major Houses if that's what you're after. It won't be easy to meet discreetly, but I'll figure something out and send you a note through Nyx."
Catherine stared at him, searching for signs of a trick, but after a moment she dropped her gaze and muttered, "Thank you."
"What are you two whispering about that's so important you're missing the unicorn?!" – Lily exclaimed, appearing beside them. Greg smiled and gently brushed her cheek, causing her face to flush as red as her hair.
"I was just telling Catherine about the properties of the rope my mother made." – he lied effortlessly – "It's woven from hair given by my grandmother and her flock of Veelas."
Lily's curiosity immediately piqued, and as they switched places with the next group, she eagerly asked about the Veelas. Catherine, relieved, left her brother with his girlfriend and rejoined the boys.
'Greg seem to have such a kind and sweet nature.' – she thought with a smirk – "But at the end, he might have more of Slytherin in him than I do.'
Catherine had always loved Potions, but even her enthusiasm wavered at the thought of two long hours in the ice-cold dungeon, where students' breaths hung like mist and mingled with the steam from bubbling cauldrons. Making the bad situation worse, Gryffindors were sharing the class with Slytherins that term. This meant the young witch was once again stuck working with Lily and Snape, as Professor Slughorn was adamant it was the best way to ensure good results—keeping her from chatting with the boys and avoiding Peter's inevitable disasters.
The young witch had to reluctantly admit that he had a point—her constant drive to compete with Snape pushed her to always perform at her best. However, this came with a fair amount of stress, as the Slytherin was genuinely hard to outshine. To make matters more challenging, Lily was also a gifted potion-maker, often coming up with unconventional solutions that impressed their professor. Surrounded by such intimidating talent, Catherine frequently found herself putting in far more effort than usual, without always ending up at the top of the class. While she didn't mind losing to Lily, being bested by Snape was another matter entirely—and it happened far too often for her liking.
When the Gryffindors arrived on Tuesday afternoon, the Slytherins were already inside. The black-haired girl sighed in exasperation and dropped her school bag under the table where Snape was sitting, scribbling something in his notebook with deep concentration. Catherine hadn't seen him since her return to Hogwarts, and she was startled by his appearance. He looked utterly dishevelled—thinner than before, his skin so pale she could make out the veins on his temples. His black hair, now reaching just below his shoulders, was so oily it clung to his head like damp seaweed. When Snape finally lifted his eyes, she noticed deep purple circles beneath them. But what shocked her most was that he didn't even bother to give her one of the disdainful looks he usually reserved just for her. The boy seemed numb, entirely detached from everything around him. Even when Lily sat down, he only cast her a fleeting glance, a vague flicker of hope in his eyes that faded instantly as the Gryffindor witch turned her head away from him.
'Is Lily still angry at him about the Halloween Ball?' – Catherine wondered. Though she hadn't witnessed Snape's outburst firsthand, she could easily imagine how hurt Lily must have been. Despite the deep hatred and the pain they had inflicted on each other over the years, the young witch felt a sense of pity. Recently, Catherine McMahon had come to the disturbing realisation that she somewhat respected Snape. He was one who never shied away from confrontation and was always prepared to face the consequences of his actions. Paired with his sharp intellect and undeniable power, he might have been someone she'd want to befriend, were it not for his insufferable arrogance and the deep-seated animosity he had shown her ever since their first encounter in Diagon Alley. Still, Snape had risen to the status of a worthy enemy in her eyes, and it irritated her to see him reduced to such a pathetic state because of Lily.
'It's no fun to beat him if he's not even trying.' – she thought, glancing up as Professor Slughorn appeared in front of the class.
"Now, my dear students," – the Potions Master began, his belly wobbling slightly as he adjusted his velvet waistcoat - "the art of antidotes is among the most delicate branches of potion-making. Poisons can be subtle, slipping unnoticed past the untrained eye, or as blatant as basilisk venom. The secret to crafting an antidote lies in pinpointing the poison's unique properties. Some poisons, like the Draught of Living Death or Serpent's Breath, demand intricate, multi-layered remedies. Others, such as Fangrot or Noxburn, can be neutralised with something as simple as a bezoar. But beware, not all antidotes are universal. A dose of Mandrake Restorative Draught will be useless against Aconite Poison, just as a bezoar will offer no salvation from a well-brewed Midnight Shade!"
"The true challenge lies in understanding the delicate interplay of ingredients—misjudge just one, and you might aggravate the poison." – the teacher continued after a brief pause – "Subtlety and precision, my dear students, are everything. Now, for today's task, please come forward and collect a flask of common poison. You have two hours to concoct the correct antidote. And do be careful… especially you, Mr Pettigrew!"
Catherine quickly approached the teacher's desk and took a vial of bright red poison. From her initial observations, she deduced it was likely Wraith's Whisper—a particularly nasty concoction that induced hallucinations, paranoia, and confusion, eventually leading the victim into a coma. The antidote was primarily based on lethifold skin and essence of aconite, but it also required several additional ingredients that had to be prepared in advance, such as steamed dittany and foam from boiled fluxweed.
'I hope that I'll have enough time to pull this off.' – the girl thought as she swiftly set the fire under her cauldron and began working.
After an hour and a half, the young witch was drenched in sweat, her hair plastered to her forehead. The vial of poison she was meant to neutralise sat untouched, and her antidote was nowhere near complete. Across the table, Snape worked with unwavering focus, and judging by the empty space where his ingredients once were, he seemed to be nearly finished.
"Your time is almost up." – Professor Slughorn's voice echoed through the dungeon – "Once your antidote is complete, pour it into the vial containing your chosen poison, label it, and leave it aside for me to assess if the poison has been neutralised."
Catherine glared at her bubbling potion, biting her lip in frustration. There was no way it would be ready before class ended, and what she had so far was unlikely to counteract the Wraith's Whisper. Feeling a knot tighten in her chest, the Gryffindor reluctantly poured a portion of her half-finished antidote into the vial of poison. The mixture hissed and turned a murky green—far from the crystal-clear result she needed.
Sighing in resignation, she prepared to extinguish the fire beneath her cauldron, already bracing herself for her first failed grade in Potions. But then, a sudden idea struck her like lightning. Her heart raced as she glanced around to make sure no one was watching. Desperation fuelling her, Catherine opened herself to true fire and conjured a tiny, flickering golden flame. With a deep breath, she carefully dropped it into the vial.
To her astonishment, the mixture glowed and slowly turned clear. She could hardly believe it. Thanking her lucky stars, Catherine quickly labelled her vial and placed it on the edge of the table, her heart still racing.
"Weren't you brewing an antidote for Wraith's Whisper?" – Snape asked, his sharp eyes narrowing as they flicked toward the now-neutralised poison.
"Yeah. Why?" – Catherine replied defensively.
"How did you finish it so quickly?" - the Slytherin demanded, his gaze growing more intense, his black eyes squinting with suspicion.
Catherine smirked, a little thrill of satisfaction running through her. She had finally rattled him. "I thought you were the Potions genius... Figure it out."
"Oh, my!" – Slughorn's booming voice cut through the tension as he approached their table – "Catherine, my dearest girl! You've neutralised the most complex poison in the class, and in record time! Twenty points to Gryffindor! Once again, I'm astonished by the talent of Muggle-born students! Lily was also impressive as ever. Severus, you'll need to step up if you want to keep pace with these two charming brilliant ladies!"
Judging by the way Snape's lips tightened and the look he shot Catherine, "charming" was the last word on his mind. In response, the black-haired witch flashed him her brightest smile, savouring the small victory as she packed her things into her school bag.
"Your antidote was amazing, Daisy!" – Lily beamed – "I can't believe how much you've improved in Potions. At this rate, you'll be top of the class in no time!"
Catherine noticed Snape stiffen at Lily's words. For a fleeting moment, hurt flashed across his face—gone as quickly as it had appeared. Amused, the girl couldn't help but admire Lily's ability to hold a grudge when she felt wronged.
'I better make sure I never end up on her bad side.' – Catherine thought, as Lily excitedly pushed a small notebook under her nose.
"I've been working on a modification for the Moon Cycle Draught." - Lily announced with enthusiasm -"Do you think it makes sense? Madame Pomfrey said it could really help some of the girls here. Do you think I should tweak anything?"
The black-haired witch glanced from the notebook to Lily's hopeful expression, feeling a pang of guilt. She sighed deeply, slinging her schoolbag over her shoulder and heading toward the door.
"Sorry, Lils. This is a bit too complicated for me. Maybe Snape can help you."
With that, she made her way out of the dungeon, her thoughts already on dinner.
'I hope the snowfall clears up before Astronomy class tonight.' – she mused, feeling a small sense of satisfaction. She had, after all, kept the promise she'd made to herself at Slughorn's Christmas party.
It seemed Catherine's plan had worked. The very next day, she spotted Snape and Lily together after lunch, as close as ever. The red-headed girl was even holding his hand, speaking to him with a serious, sincere expression.
However, the young witch had little time to focus on Snape's troubles since she was completely consumed by the final preparations for brewing the Animagi Potion. By Friday evening, she, James, and Sirius slipped into the Room of Requirement, hidden beneath James' Invisibility Cloak.
"It's getting a bit tricky for all three of us to fit under this thing." – James muttered, frowning as he was folding the cloak.
"I didn't ask to come." – Sirius grumbled, earning an annoyed look from James – "I still don't see how I'm supposed to help."
"Better you than Peter." – Catherine quipped, setting the first batch of ingredients on the counter – "At this point, just staying out of my way is plenty."
"I can never tell if you're complimenting or insulting me." – Sirius smirked, pulling a small package from his robes - "Where do you want the griffin claws?"
"I don't know. Just put them somewhere I can find them later." – the girl replied, focused on finely cutting Valerian roots with a silver knife – "It's one of the last ingredients we'll need—about two months from now."
Sirius shrugged half-heartedly and scanned the lower shelves above the hearth for an empty spot. His mood had been rotten for days, and Remus' casual indifference only fuelled the simmering anger he was struggling to keep in check. If he was honest with himself, he wasn't sure who he was angrier at—Remus, Catherine, or himself for not being the first one to kiss her.
He didn't want the young witch to know about any of it, but a small, petty part of him wished she did—wished she felt embarrassed, or even better, regretful. The memory of her disapproving glance after Marianne kissed him sparked a brief, bitter satisfaction. For a moment, he almost savoured it.
'Did I really hope she'd be jealous?' – he wondered with a sharp twinge of self-reproach, shoving aside a few old boxes to make space.
"I'm putting the griffin claws next to the chest with the Ashwinder egg." – the boy muttered, eyeing the heavy chest made of Goblin silver - "Where did you say you got this again? Goblin silver's not exactly easy to come by, never mind the price."
"I bought it at an antique shop." – Catherine replied, focused intently on grinding moonstones with a grim, almost mechanical precision.
"You don't say…" – Sirius murmured, his voice low and mocking.
"What's your problem?" – James asked, appearing at Sirius' side – "One would think we forced you to come here."
Sirius scoffed. "Well, at this point, it's starting to feel a little forced, yeah. And since you and Catherine are keeping so many secrets between yourselves these days, mind explaining why she keeps lying to me about this chest?"
"What chest?" – James asked, confusion flickering in his eyes before his expression turned angry – "For Merlin's sake, would you knock it off? We're not hiding anything!"
"Maybe not you, mate." - Sirius replied, his tone growing darker - "But she is. That engraving on the chest lid—it's the McMahon coat of arms."
"What?" – James turned, glancing toward Catherine, who was busy dividing Moonlit dew into containers, preparing some to be frozen and others to be boiled – "Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure." – Sirius growled – "That prat Greg McMahon had the same bloody thing embroidered on his cloak last time we were in Hogsmeade. It's impossible to miss."
"You think McMahon gave her the chest?" – James asked, his voice quieter.
"Almost certainly." – Sirius spat – "I wouldn't have liked it if she'd gone to him, but I could've understood—these things are rare. But it's the lying that gets me. It feels like she's mocking me, going out of her way to make a fool of me."
"This isn't true and you know it." – James snapped, his frustration breaking through – "If McMahon really gave her the chest, maybe she didn't tell you because you always overreact."
"Rich coming from you." – Sirius scoffed – "Weren't you the one pulling branches from his broom while he was showering after practice this week?"
"That's different!" – James hissed, a flicker of embarrassment colouring his face – "Besides, in hindsight, I regret my actions."
"Sure you do!" – Sirius replied with a sarcastic laugh – "Oh, by the way, Snivellus and Evans are looking cozy again. Thought you'd want to know."
"One problem at a time!" – the other boy groaned with irritation.
"Are you two going to help, or just gossip like a pair of old hags in a Provençal village?" – Catherine's sharp voice cut through, causing both boys to snap their heads in her direction.
"I thought you didn't want people in your way." – Sirius smirked, grabbing the heavy cauldron from her hands and hoisting it above the hearth.
"Only people who don't know what they're doing." - she retorted with a smile, pointing her wand at the firewood - "Incendio!"
Flames sprang up under the cauldron, and soon the liquid inside was bubbling violently. Catherine quickly added the Murtlap essence, stirring the mixture as it turned a deep violet.
"I can't believe we've finally started brewing that bloody potion!" – she exclaimed, excitement flashing in her eyes – "Next week, I'll add the Moonlit dew and start preparing the Ashwinder egg. It needs to be stored at the right temperature for a whole month!"
"I just hope you won't poison us with that thing at the end." – Sirius teased, though his gaze flickered toward the silver chest with McMahon's coat of arms engraved on it.
"If you think you could do better, be my guest!" – Catherine shot back, her tone suddenly harsh. She turned on her heel and stormed toward the door.
"Great job!" - James muttered under his breath, glaring at Sirius before chasing after her – "Flame, wait! It's after curfew! You don't want to run into Thorne—you'll end up in detention till Easter!"
"Don't worry." - Sirius said with a bitter smile as he watched them go - "She won't quit. Not when this is all for Moony."
"I must say, I'm thoroughly impressed with your progress, my dear girl!" – Dumbledore praised the young black-haired witch, standing in front of his desk, with her eyes glowing in green – "I honestly didn't expect you to be able to use true fire so soon after beginning your training."
"Thank you, sir." – the girl replied, gripping the armrest of the nearest chair as a wave of dizziness hit her. Her voice was steady, though her face betrayed the strain – "I just hope the side effects of using Elemental magic disappear sooner rather than later."
"Yes, the aftermath is certainly an unfortunate part of the process." – the Headmaster nodded thoughtfully before flicking his wand, conjuring a pitcher of ice-cold lemonade that shimmered in the candlelight – "It's believed that rest and hearty food help speed up recovery. Did you manage to get enough during the holidays?"
"I didn't sleep much." - Catherine admitted with a frown, accepting a glass and downing it in one go - "You insist I only take Dreamless Sleep Potion once a week, after all. But I ate plenty—Mrs Potter's cooking is incredible."
"Ah, yes!" – the wizard's smile brightened – "I've heard you spent Christmas at Godric's Hollow. I hope you liked it."
"It was a new experience for me." - she said, a genuine smile creeping onto her face - "Completely different from home. The Potters made me feel... like a normal teenager, for once. And the village is beautiful in winter."
Dumbledore's features softened, touched by a tinge of sadness as he watched the girl cling to the empty glass, her thin fingers pale against the cool surface. Her childish face bore a seriousness far beyond her years.
"I haven't seen Godric's Hollow in winter for many years." - he said quietly, a distant look in his eyes.
"I saw your home when we were walking around." - Catherine mentioned, her curiosity piquing. Dumbledore's personal life had always been shrouded in mystery.
"You mean you saw my family's house." – the Headmaster corrected gently, a trace of sorrow in his voice – "It hasn't been my home since my sister Ariana passed."
Catherine's eyes widened in surprise. "You had a sister?"- she blurted out, then immediately winced at her tone - "I'm sorry, sir. That sounded awful. My condolences."
"It's quite alright." – Dumbledore replied with sorrowfully – "As you've learned far too early, family relationships are... complicated. Time doesn't change that, no matter how many years pass."
"I'm not sure about that." – Catherine mumbled, her thoughts drifting to Greg, quickly adding – "But aside from the lack of sleep, I did have a good Christmas."
"We need to find a more permanent solution." – the Headmaster remarked contemplatively – "Poppy's been researching alternatives, but you can't keep losing sleep and relying on potions. How bad are the nightmares?"
"They're usually just a chaos of endless violence and torture that I commit in some form." – the young witch replied flatly, feeling hollow inside – "What's worse is that my magic gets out of control during the nightmares, and I can't stop it. I don't want to hurt anyone."
"I understand your concern." – Dumbledore said, his gaze sympathetic – "Perhaps Occlumency could help. If the nightmares are triggering your magic, learning to control your mind might stop both."
"Does this mean you'll start teaching me soon?" – Catherine asked, a note of hope slipping into her voice.
"As soon as you stop experiencing discomfort from using true fire." – the wizard replied gently. Seeing the disappointment in her eyes, he continued – "You have to understand, Catherine, I don't want to push you too hard. Excessive stress could backfire."
The girl frowned, her frustration bubbling to the surface. "I just wish people would stop treating me like I'm some fragile figurine that'll shatter at the slightest touch." - she muttered, thinking back to her last conversation with her father - "Everyone expects miracles from me, but no one trusts me enough to handle the truth. You keep me in the dark about things that affect me directly."
"You talk about your father, I assume?" - Dumbledore asked, a faint twinkle in his eyes - "His Grace seems to be a very devoted man—willing to sacrifice anything to protect you."
"Including my mental health." - Catherine said with a wry smile - "I'm grateful, I really am. But keeping me ignorant of the dangers we face doesn't protect me—it weakens me. How am I supposed to fight back if I don't even know what I'm up against?"
Dumbledore paused, considering her words carefully. "You're right, my dear." - he said after a moment - "I'm sure your parents want nothing more than to prepare you, to make sure you're ready to face whatever comes. But when it's your own child, it's hard to find that balance. Sometimes, the instinct to shield you from harm wins out, even when it shouldn't."
The young witch lowered her head, biting her lip in frustration. Dumbledore's words rang true, but that didn't make them easier to accept. She couldn't just be satisfied with being fed the bare minimum, as if she were an object to be used rather than a person with a voice.
"I just wish they'd make me part of their plans." - she said quietly, her voice tinged with longing - "I know I'm not as powerful as I could be yet, but I can still think. I should have a say. I could be useful. Do you know how they call girls in my family? We're known as the Vessels of the Curse of Morgana. I've always hated that. It's like we're not even human."
Dumbledore nodded, moving to stand beside the young witch. His hand rested gently on the back of her chair. "That's perfectly understandable, Catherine." - he said, his voice soft yet firm - "I cannot interfere with the decisions your parents make, but I agree with you. I believe you are more than capable of making your own informed choices. Unfortunately, you and your classmates are living through times that demand you grow up faster than anyone should."
"Are you talking about that Dark wizard?" – the girl asked, her thoughts drifting to Sirius, who seemed gloomier with each letter from home - "The one causing chaos all over the country?"
"Yes." – the Headmaster confirmed, his expression growing serious – "Lord Voldemort, or as he was once known, Tom Riddle, is proving to be far more dangerous than I initially feared."
"Do you know him personally, Professor?" – Catherine asked with curiosity.
Dumbledore's smile turned bitter, shadows passing behind his blue eyes. "I taught him Transfiguration when he was a student here at Hogwarts. He was, without question, the most powerful and gifted student I've ever encountered." - he paused, then added thoughtfully - "Though that may not be true anymore."
Catherine blushed slightly, but decided to seize the moment and push her luck, hoping to glean more information.
"What do you think his ultimate goal is, sir?" – she asked hesitantly, unsure if she was overstepping.
Dumbledore sighed, his expression thoughtful. "I'm not entirely certain yet, but knowing Tom as I do, it must be something grand enough to match his ambitions. You see, he grew up in an orphanage. For him, discovering he was a wizard meant everything—it made him feel special for the first time in his life. But it also planted the seeds of an inferiority complex, which hardened into a deep resentment toward anyone outside our world, or those he deems impure."
"So you think he truly wants to impose wizarding supremacy?" - Catherine asked, a surge of anger rising within her - "That's so utterly stupid!"
"Exactly!" - Dumbledore replied, his eyes sharp - "That's why he adopted a title he was never given, and why he claims descent from Salazar Slytherin—he has to be the most special, the chosen one in his own narrative."
Catherine's eyes widened. "What do you mean, he's a descendant of Slytherin?!"
"If my information is correct, his mother, Merope Gaunt, was indeed a descendant of Slytherin. Of course," - the wizard added with a crooked smile - "Tom would have been far prouder if he had your lineage, but it's impressive enough for the old pure-blood families who increasingly rally to his cause."
"This is insane!" – Catherine snapped, the thought of being somehow related to Lord Voldemort making her feel tainted – "Why isn't the Ministry doing anything?"
"The Ministry is, unfortunately, paralysed by the influence of certain individuals who support Tom." – the Headmaster said, his voice heavy with disappointment - "They're more concerned with covering up the growing number of 'incidents' involving Muggles. You must understand—they don't want to cause panic. And Tom, for the most part, has been subtle in his dealings with Muggle-borns."
"So the Ministry's fine with it as long as he doesn't kill wizards and witches?" – the young witch asked incredulously, her anger bubbling to the surface.
"In a way, yes." - Dumbledore admitted with a frown - "It's not that there haven't been attacks—there have. But they've never been directly linked to him. That makes it difficult for the Ministry to act. In fact, I had to miss a few of our lessons before the holidays to help an old friend whose daughter-in-law was murdered. It appeared connected to Tom or one of his followers. She was Muggle-born."
"And the Ministry didn't do anything?" – the girl's frustration deepened, her hands clenching into fists. The government's refusal to face the threat made her blood boil.
"They claimed they couldn't find direct evidence tying Sarah's death to Tom, despite one of his followers having an unhealthy obsession with her for years." - Dumbledore said, his tone turning cold, his face stern - "But of course, it was more than personal vendetta. We're in the midst of an intimidation campaign, which you may have noticed within the castle itself, despite our efforts to shield the school from the outside world."
"Do you think the aristocrats would help if you asked them?" - Catherine suddenly demanded, her green eyes blazing as they locked onto her teacher.
"They likely won't." - Dumbledore replied, his tone even - "It's difficult enough to get the major Houses to agree on minor issues, let alone something of this magnitude."
"Then what?" - she snapped, frustration seeping into her voice - "People like Mary or like Lily are supposed to fend for themselves, or wait for the Ministry to act when it'll be too late?"
"Unfortunately, that seems to be the case." - Dumbledore answered, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he regarded his fiery student - "But as you know, with great power comes great responsibility. It falls to those of us who can act to protect those who cannot."
"Are you talking about yourself, sir?" - Catherine asked, her gaze softening as she studied the lines of her professor's face.
"I am." - he replied calmly - "But as I'm sure you understand, I'm not motivated by fame or influence."
"I understand." – the young witch said quietly, surprised by the certainty in her own voice.
Dumbledore's expression turned thoughtful. "And what would you have done, in my place?"
Catherine paused, her eyes narrowing slightly in contemplation. "I'd do whatever was necessary to fight him." - she said firmly - "No matter what the Ministry thinks."
Their gazes met, a silent understanding passing between them. In the dim glow of the candles, Dumbledore smiled, a soft, fatherly warmth radiating from him. Behind them, the phoenix hooted softly from its perch, as if sensing the moment's gravity.
Catherine walked slowly from Dumbledore's office toward the Gryffindor Tower. The castle was eerily quiet after curfew, and though she knew there was a chance of running into Filch, a Prefect, or even a teacher, she couldn't bring herself to care. Her thoughts were far too heavy for such trivial concerns. The conversation with the Headmaster had been surprisingly profound, and a spark of pride flickered within her—he had asked her opinion on Voldemort. It wasn't every day that the most powerful wizard in Britain sought her thoughts on something so critical.
That newfound respect for her abilities, both magical and intellectual, gave her a much-needed boost of confidence. She still wrestled with the insecurity about her looks, but at least now she knew she was smart enough to be taken seriously. Dumbledore's inquiry had lit a fire in her—a silly, almost childish desire to prove herself worthy of his trust.
'I hope I turn out to be gifted in Occlumency.' - she thought, carefully sliding aside the frame of a sunset above a forest on the fifth floor, slipping into one of the secret passageways leading back to her Common Room.
A mischievous smile tugged at her lips because her most impressive accomplishment was currently brewing a few floors above. The Animagi potion was going exactly as planned. They had just removed the Mandrake leaves from their mouths, preserving them under a spell for the right moment. Everything was falling into place.
'Who would have thought it'd feel so good to finally move my tongue freely again.' – Catherine thought with amusement, as she entered a dimly lit corridor on the sixth floor.
A sudden noise made the girl's heart skip a beat. She instinctively pressed herself against the wall, cursing her decision not to borrow James's Invisibility Cloak. Even though Dumbledore could vouch for her, getting caught after curfew was still a hassle she'd rather avoid. She strained her ears, trying to pinpoint the source of the sound. It was coming from a small alcove, half-hidden behind a suit of armour.
Heat crept up her neck as she realised what the noise was. She had stumbled right into the middle of someone's make-out session.
'Well, they sound busy enough. I could walk by singing, and they wouldn't even notice.' – she thought with a smirk. But before she could decide on a course of action, another noise startled her. With a sharp intake of breath, she dove behind the nearest cover—a statue of a griffin.
It was a quick, calculated move, and just in time. Fifteen seconds later, Filch appeared, his ever-watchful cat, Mrs Norris, trailing at his heels.
Flattening herself against the cold stone, Catherine's curiosity got the better of her. She peeked between the griffin's wings, her pulse quickening.
"Filthy troublemakers!" – the Caretaker's voice echoed down the corridor as he reached into the alcove and yanked someone out – "Always hiding in the shadows to do your dirty business! Cover yourself, you lewd girl!"
The dim light wasn't much help, but Catherine managed to make out the slightly dishevelled form of Marianne Trundle. The Hufflepuff didn't seem overly concerned by Filch's wrath. She calmly adjusted her uniform, glancing over her shoulder at her partner, whom the Caretaker was now roughly dragging into the light.
"Why is it always one of you wretched miscreants?" – he spat angrily – "I told Professor McGonagall you lot are out of control, but does she listen? She will now! Move!"
With a firm grip on Marianne's arm, Filch marched her and her companion down the hall, presumably toward McGonagall's office. Catherine pressed her forehead against the cool stone, trying to calm her pounding heart. Her ears rang, but she didn't need any more light to recognise the proud posture and devil-may-care attitude of the boy being led away.
Sirius Black.
A/n: Dear readers, since the potion is finally bubbling in the cauldron, let's play a game. You have two more chapters after the current one before the potion becomes ready. Guess Catherine's Animagi form (I'll count only your first attempt). If you're correct there is a reward connected to the story ;) Good luck!
~Sailea~