The April sun streamed through the grand French windows of Feywood Heights' drawing room, catching in the ornate chandelier and scattering into hundreds of shimmering light spots that danced playfully across the walls and floor. Sumptuous velvet curtains in deep green, tied back with silver tassels, created a sharp contrast with the dove-grey walls. The furniture was an eclectic mix of antique French pieces, each carefully curated by Duchess Louisa McMahon. She sat on an elegant Louis XVI-style settee, reupholstered in pale blue silk. Her long golden hair was loosely tied in a bun, her face frozen in intense concentration as her pencil added the final touches to a sketch of the central piece for her new collection.
The witch wore a midnight-blue silk robe, its subtle embroidery tracing intricate, arcane patterns along the cuffs, collar, and hemline.
"Mistress." – a squeaky, high-pitched voice broke her focus. Louisa lifted her jade-green eyes from the drawing – "Marquess Egbert wishes to see the Mistress. Twinkle told him no one is to disturb the Mistress but he…"
"It's alright." – the witch sighed, waving her hand – "We'll have the tea here."
The small creature bowed and darted toward the door, where it sank into another bow at Carsilion, who entered with an amused smile.
"Your Grace, every time I enter a room you're in, it feels as though the very air holds its breath, completely captivated by your beauty and elegance that feel almost otherworldly." – the wizard declared, bowing in an exaggerated flourish.
"Are you making fun of me?" – the woman asked, annoyance creeping into her voice as she set her sketchbook on the low oak table in front of her.
"Not in the slightest." – Carsilion grinned, taking a seat beside her and loosening his tie – "It's quite warm outside, and I've had my fill of meetings with unpleasant people today. Being here with you is like a healing balm for my soul."
"Yeah, right." – the Duchess scoffed, rolling her eyes – "Where's Edward? I thought there was a Council meeting today."
"He stayed behind to listen to Borealis' rant about Greg." – the wizard replied grimly, eyeing the teapot Twinkle had just placed on the table, along with a plate of finger sandwiches – "I think he might need something stronger once he's back."
Louisa hissed, her eyes blazing with intense displeasure. "I can't stand that arrogant prick!" – she exclaimed heatedly – "Can you believe he sent his little rat to spy on me and Leona? As if I wouldn't notice his beady eyes staring at me all day from across the street. They must think I'm an idiot."
"It's better this way." – Carsilion said, patting her hand soothingly – "We don't want to draw any more attention, and Adrian is already watching Hogwarts closely. We need to keep him occupied—and you, mon chardon,[1] are the definition of distraction for men."
"For most men, yes." – Louisa replied, her tone cooling as she took a regal sip of tea – "But did you know that Duke Prince is immune to my Veela powers?"
"That is quite fascinating." – the Marquess noted thoughtfully – "It must be something passed down in his bloodline from Merlin. They didn't call him the Prince of Enchanters for nothing."
"But what good is all that power in the end?" – the witch asked, her voice softening, the Marquess giving her a surprised glance – "Alexander seems to have given up on life. He's alone in that vast manor, and everyone wonders what will happen to the House of Prince when he's gone."
"He has a daughter—and possibly a grandchild." – Carsilion reminded her – "But without official recognition, neither will be acknowledged as heirs or be able to lead the House. I do wonder what drove Eiline to run away like she did."
"You of all people know how unbearable life among the aristocrats can be, despite the perks." – Louisa said gently, her eyes catching the darkening expression on the wizard's face. Before he could respond, Duke Edward McMahon entered, unfastening his cloak and tossing it onto the nearest chair. He sank onto the sofa between his wife and his best friend, sighing audibly, eyes closed in exasperation.
"That bloody son of a banshee!" – he groaned, rubbing his temples – "I've never seen anyone so utterly in love with himself! Can you imagine? He claims Greg offended his honour?! What honour?! This is the same man who baby-trapped his wife just to gain favour with his father and North Redmond! Not to mention whatever he did to his older brother. I doubt Altair just evaporated from the face of the Earth!"
"You discussed Greg during the Council's meeting?!" – Louisa exclaimed, her face flushing and her hair crackling with raw magic.
"No, mon amour! Don't worry!" – Edward quickly tried to comfort her – "Duke Prince obviously wouldn't have allowed such trivial nonsense on the agenda! Adrian insisted on bringing it up after the meeting concluded. It was so damn exhausting! And if Borealis wasn't bad enough, I had to listen to O'Dragan's constant bragging—which, honestly, was the most pleasant conversation I had today. After that, North Redmond chewed me up for delays in the production of enchanted emeralds. I didn't even know what he was talking about! Why can't he just send an owl like a normal person?! Eventually, he called me incompetent and went off looking for Alexander. I suppose he had to ruin his day too, just to fulfil his daily quota. I barely survived, my nymph! I'm so happy to be back with you!"
With that, the Duke grabbed his wife's hand and pulled her into his arms, kissing her passionately. His hands slowly moved down her back as he insatiably enjoyed the witch's warm, soft lips and her divine taste that had driven him insane since the first time he kissed her in Florian Plantier's garden.
"Ahem, either break it up or at least be a gracious host and share with your guest." – Carsilion's mocking voice made Edward release the blushing witch. He shot an irritated glare at his best friend, who sat not more than an arm's reach away, wearing one of his trademark smirks.
"In your dreams." – the blond wizard hissed, making the other man laugh heartily.
"Such a jealous boy!" – the Marquess purred, ducking to avoid the water that flew his way from a nearby vase.
"I already have two teenagers in this house. I don't need two more!" – Louisa snapped, jumping to her feet and drawing her wand. Both men flinched, but she merely vanished the water from her Persian carpet.
"Speaking of which," – Carsilion said, his face suddenly serious – "Dumbledore mentioned that Catherine isn't doing so well with her Occlumency training."
"No?" – Edward exclaimed, surprised – "But she should be a natural! She's the only one besides me who can withstand Florian's flower-induced illusions. That means she must be extremely gifted in Occlumency. It's probably just some sort of mental block."
"I'm just passing on what Albus said." – the other wizard shrugged – "Honestly, I'm not that impressed with her fire magic either. I know she only started a several months ago, but she doesn't feel very strong."
"That's strange, because she felt quite strong when she destroyed my study during the winter break." – the Duke said, sounding a bit defensive of his daughter's abilities – "Wait a second! How do you know that?"
"Well, we had a bit of… disagreement during one of her detentions." – Carsilion explained nonchalantly.
"Are you bullying my daughter again?" – Louisa asked, her eyes flashing dangerously – "I warned you what would happen if you continued. Do you think your new fling will still accept you in her bed if you're in the shape of a giant rodent?"
"First of all, Minerva is not a fling, and as the Transfiguration professor, she's perfectly capable of turning me back into the masterpiece that I am." – the Marquess shot back with a smug grin – "Second, you both knew and agreed she had to be severely punished for roaming around without permission. Look at the mess we ended up in because of that! I've heard from a very reliable source that Adrian has been sending letters to Malfoy Manor. There aren't many things he could want from them."
"But I thought Malfoy's son already graduated." – the Duke frowned.
"He did." - Carsilion confirmed - "However, this year Lucius suddenly replaced his father as a member of the Hogwarts Board of Governors. I've seen him in the castle on numerous occasions, and he has the right to be there. That means he probably still has considerable influence over his former Housemates, and I wouldn't rule out one or more of them doing his bidding."
"I don't like this at all." – Edward sighed, closing his eyes for a moment – "We can't let them find out about Catherine before she turns sixteen. It'll be hard enough then, but nearly impossible if her magic isn't stable enough to prove our point."
"I agree, but I'm even more worried about whether she'll make it that far." – the Marquess said softly, his heart sinking at the sight of Louisa's terrified face – "You've probably noticed—she's been losing a lot of weight. I've been watching her closely these past few months. She eats a decent amount of food, maybe even more than most girls, yet she looks more and more frail."
"She's fourteen." – Edward said, trying to sound cheerful – "It's normal for her to go through changes, right?"
"Not to this extent, brother." – the other wizard replied, then paused, his eyes brimming with tears as he found the courage to voice their shared fears – "I discussed it briefly with Dumbledore, and we both think it's most likely due to her being inclined towards true fire."
"That's nonsense!" – the Duke snapped – "What's wrong with Dumbledore? First, he says true fire is helping Catherine protect herself from the demon's influence, and now he says it's destroying her body. Which one is it?"
"There's a lot we don't know about true fire, given how rare it is." – Carsilion said, trying to reason with his friend – "But there must be an explanation why female Fire Mages are so extremely rare. Maybe their bodies can't withstand the element's intensity."
"But there have been female Fire Mages!" – Louisa protested, biting her lip in distress – "So that can't be the reason."
"Yes, but from what I know, those witches were all Salamander-type." – the Marquess continued – "I'm not sure I've ever heard of a female Fire Mage belonging to a higher class. Albus insists that Catherine is a Phoenix-type. If that's true, maybe her power is literally destroying her."
"I refuse to believe that!" – Lousia snapped – "There must be another explanation—or a way to fix it! I'll write to my mother. Veelas are fiery creatures, even if they don't carry part of the first flame like Salamanders, Phoenixes, and Dragons. She might know what's going on and how to help Catherine!"
"I thought you didn't want to tell your mother about Catherine's inclination, my nymph." – Edwards said, confused.
"I still don't." – the witch confirmed, heading towards the door – "But I'll do anything to save my daughter. If that means dealing with my mother and her entitled nature, so be it!"
The Duke buried his face in his hands, feeling as though a mountain weighed on his shoulders, one he simply couldn't shake off. He heard movement and looked up to see a glass of what appeared to be his Martell 3 Stars Cognac.
"How do you always manage to find my most expensive alcohol, no matter where I hide it?" – Edward muttered, though he took the glass anyway.
"One of the talents I'm most proud of." – Carsilion replied with a smile, settling back onto the sofa beside his best friend – "Calm down, we'll find a way. Besides, aside from the weight loss, there aren't any other worrying signs."
"What about the nightmares?" – the other man whispered, staring into the amber liquid in his glass.
"If they were those nightmares, she would have lost her mind by now." – the Marquess stated drily – "I don't know how, but she's fighting the demon—and she's winning, Edd. Believe in her!"
"I do." – the Duke said, wiping his teary eyes with the back of his hand – "But I'm terrified, Carter. What if we're wrong, and she goes berserk, killing thousands? What if, despite all our preparations, the Council decides to punish us for breaching the Pact? We're all hanging over a huge chasm, and it feels like the slightest gust could send us plunging over the edge."
"In that case, you're very lucky, because I'm the one who controls the wind." – Carsilion said with a grin, trying to cheer his friend – "We can't lose our focus now. Let's deal with each crisis as it comes. Maybe Étincelle really does have some insights about how to strengthen Catherine's body."
"I hate feeling this helpless!" – Edward exclaimed – "Perhaps it wouldn't be a bad idea to plan a trip for Louisa and the kids to France this summer."
"Definitely worth considering." – the other man agreed – "The girl will be thrilled to travel abroad, and if Louisa isn't here, it'll be easier to start preparing for… any unexpected situations that may come up in the near future."
The Duke only nodded, and the two wizards finished their drinks in silence.
[1] Chardon means thistle in French.
James Potter shifted uncomfortably on his bed. He got up and began pacing the bedroom, trying to distract himself from the unsettling feeling that had grown even stronger since that afternoon. Returning to Hogwarts after the Easter break had proven to be quite stressful. First, the fourth-years were buried under a mountain of assignments and lessons to revise for the upcoming end-of-year exams. Second, Sirius had been in a remarkably foul mood, refusing to share why. And finally, Marvolo Wood was obsessing over their last Quidditch match, less than a month away, pushing the team to practice four times a week. Truthfully, the only reason they didn't practice more often was that other teams also needed the Quidditch pitch. While James shared his captain's enthusiasm for finally winning the Quidditch Cup, the pressure was beginning to take its toll on the players.
The young wizard was especially worried about Catherine, but to his surprise, she seemed to be in good spirits. Apparently, she and Lily had had a lot of fun over the holidays, as they had been spending more time together than usual, often whispering and giggling. Curious about this new development, James asked Remus, but he seemed just as clueless.
After some consideration, the boy decided that Lily's recent (and, in his opinion, quite fortunate) breakup with McMahon meant that Catherine spending more time with her could actually be beneficial for his future courting plans regarding his red-haired classmate. This was exactly what he was thinking about during lunch when the grey ceiling of the Great Hall was suddenly split by a flash of lightning. Peter, who was sitting next to him, jumped, knocking over his glass of orange juice. Exchanging a few meaningful glances across the table, the group of Gryffindors quickly abandoned their half-eaten lunches and dashed toward the Astronomy Tower.
James wasn't entirely sure if they managed to hold their Animagus forms longer this time compared to their last attempt, but it definitely wasn't enough. They snapped back to being humans, feeling as if they'd been hurled into the Floo Network and spat out violently. To make matters worse, Professor Sinistra caught them on their way back. Normally, Catherine was an exceptional liar, but even she couldn't explain why they were all drenched, coming from a restricted area, with Remus and Sirius practically carrying Peter, who was looking a bit green and shaking.
In the end, they "confessed" to duelling and claimed that they thought the top of the highest tower during a storm would be a more dramatic setting—and that it would make them look "wicked." The story was flimsy at best, but since the truth was even more implausible and Professor Sinistra had no idea what they were really up to, she decided to deduct 20 points from Gryffindor and assign them all detention after her class on Tuesday.
'That probably means I'll get three, maybe four hours of sleep at best.' – James sighed, collapsing onto the floor in the middle of the room. Oddly enough, it was the most comfortable spot at the moment.
"On the floor already? At least wait for the party to start before you hit the deck." – Sirius laughed as he entered.
"I'm not in the mood for any parties." – James groaned, not bothering to get up – "This is the only position where it doesn't feel like my insides are on fire."
"Yeah, it's a real bummer." – Sirius admitted – "I don't understand what we're doing wrong."
"I don't know, but I'm going to lose it if I have to feel like this all summer." – the other wizard huffed – "We followed the book, and the potion obviously works since we were able to transform. We must be missing something important in this final step, though."
"I'm starting to think Flame's losing her edge with all the lack of sleep." – Sirius muttered, pulling the map out of his school bag – "I tried every variation of a Mapping Spell I could find to make the names appear, but it was useless. Do you think she could be wrong about this?"
"Why are you asking me?" – James said, the map being the last thing on his mind at the moment – "Just go to her and work on it together. You two are usually a good team, and it'd be faster if you both worked on it."
"I'm not sure she'd agree." – the other boy replied, trying to sound casual – "I'm not exactly her favourite person right now."
"And whose fault is that?" – James mocked him, slowly dragging himself into a sitting position on the round carpet – "Honestly, mate, you need to figure out what you want. This madness with Marianne has gone on for way too long. You didn't even like her before—what gives? Just because of that stupid kiss between Flame and Moony?"
"It's not just because of the kiss!" – Sirius snapped, sitting on his bed and covering his face with his hands – "I just… got tired of waiting, James. I got tired of hoping she'd see me differently—that she'd want me by her side as more than a friend."
"But, Sirius," – James sighed, exasperated – "you never told her any of that! And honestly, I don't know how someone as brilliant as her can be so dumb at the same time, but she really doesn't think you have those feelings for her."
"Come on, Prongs!" – Sirius laughed bitterly – "I've been showing her how much I like her since the first day we met on the Hogwarts Express. She's just trying to spare my feelings by clinging to this idea of us as just friends. And I respect that—it's probably for the best. Why would she want to be involved with someone like me? Look at my family! She might very well be in danger if we were together. Plus, as thrilling as it is to think about her while I'm in the shower, it's much more satisfying to have an actual girl in my arms who really likes me and wants me as her boyfriend."
"Well… congrats, I guess." – James said, trying to suppress the mental image of Sirius in the shower thinking about Catherine – "But I don't think it's fair to Marianne to just use her as a replacement so you can have a girlfriend."
"She's not a replacement!" – Sirius protested, agitated – "I do like her. We have a lot of things in common."
"Things in common? You mean hallways and empty broom cupboards?" – the other wizard scoffed, earning an angry glare from his friend.
"Think whatever you want!" – Sirius snapped, his voice rising – "I'd rather share my bed with a real person than cling to a fantasy of someone I can never even kiss."
"Wait—hold on a second!" – James's brows shot up in surprise – "Did you… you and her? Seriously? When?"
"After the second Quidditch match, but that's hardly the point." – Sirius said, trying to sound casual but failing to hide a hint of defensiveness – "I just wanted to say that I like Marianne, and I don't intend to give up on what we have just to chase Flame, who will never see me as anything more than a friend or best case scenario – a brother."
"Whatever you say, mate." – James sighed, feeling a bit overwhelmed – "But, honestly, I can't believe you'd have sex with someone and not tell me!"
"You're not jealous, are you?" – Sirius grinned mischievously – "You'll always be my number one, Prongs!"
"Sod off!" – the other wizard hissed, jumping to his feet—which felt strange, as he still couldn't quite tell if he still had hooves or not. He lost his balance, and was about to fall when Sirius lunged forward, catching him just in time.
"I hope we're not interrupting anything." – Catherine's mocking voice came from the door as she and Remus stood at the entrance to the bedroom.
"Very funny, Flame!" – James snapped angrily – "It would be a miracle if we can even hold onto our brooms in this state. Do you have any idea how sick I feel?"
"Please, do tell me about it." – the girl rolled her eyes, taking a seat on Remus's bed.
"Isn't Peter with you two?" – Sirius asked, squeezing James's shoulder a little too hard, making him hiss in pain but eventually let Catherine's snarky comment slide.
"Madame Pomfrey decided to keep him for overnight." – the young witch explained – "Lucky for us, she doesn't usually ask too many questions. I'm not sure she bought the story that it was all due to a bad jinx during a duel."
"She still seemed pretty confident she could help him feel better." – Remus added, trying to sound optimistic – "Maybe the rest of you could get the same treatment for your symptoms?"
"Yeah, nothing suspicious about that, Moony." – Sirius chuckled – "It's uncomfortable, but we can push through it. The last thing we need is more teachers taking an interest in our extracurricular activities."
"I agree with Sirius." – Catherine said, frowning – "We've already attracted too much attention. Today's incident with Sinistra should be avoided at all costs."
"Well, now there's something you don't see every day!" – Sirius laughed – "You agreeing with me? I should get today's date tattooed to remember it forever!"
"Are you seriously joking about this?" – Catherine yelled, her eyes flashing with anger.
Her friend immediately stopped laughing, confusion crossing his face. "What's wrong with the joke?" – he asked, but then his expression darkened as he pieced it together – "Wait… is this about the Autumn incident? This is different, Flame. I'm not planning on branding anything on my skin."
"Can we talk about something else?" – James asked, looking a bit pale – "I feel sick enough without thinking about this."
"Oh, poor thing!" – Catherine sneered – "Imagine how Autumn feels. As far as I know, they still can't find a way to heal the scar."
"Philippa Finch from Hufflepuff told me that, according to Thorne, the branding was caused by a peculiar curse—probably locked by the caster." – Remus mumbled quietly - "It means they'd need to find the person who cursed Autumn to have any chance of healing the scar properly. Unfortunately, she's either in shock or her memories were altered. They have no clue where to start looking for the culprit."
Sirius scoffed in disgust. "It's not that hard. The Slytherin Common Room is probably filled with Dark Arts enthusiasts. I'd bet some of them even hide their cloaks and hoods under their beds. Personally, I'd start by checking my family first."
"I doubt any of them are actual Death Eater." – Catherine shrugged – "Why would that guy want a bunch of half-trained idiots? Most of them barely know which end of the wand to hold. Look at that moron Caelum Parkinson—he almost poisoned himself with what he called a Strength Potion. Spent a week in the Hospital Wing. And I thought his sister was stupid."
"Regardless, we should do something to protect our classmates." – James exclaimed suddenly, his tone decisive – "This time it was Autumn. Next time it could be Lily, Mary, Scarlett, or even you, Flame."
"I'm not overly worried about myself." – Catherine responded with a smirk.
"This is serious!" – Sirius snapped angrily – "Malfoy's not here to protect you anymore. Considering how much the Slytherins hate you, I'm honestly amazed they haven't tried something worse already."
"I never needed Malfoy to protect me!" – the young witch shot back, her eyes suddenly glowing green. She extended her hand toward the empty fireplace, sending a torrent of fire roaring into it – "As you can see, I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself!"
The three boys stared in awe at the dying flames, an uncomfortable silence settling over the room.
"Well, at least now we know she actually likes us." – Sirius chuckled, breaking the tension - "Otherwise, we'd all be toast by now."
"This is incredible!" – James chimed in – "See? 'Flame' turned out to be the perfect nickname after all!"
"Stop making fun of me!" – the girl pouted, though she couldn't help but feel relieved that her power was being accepted rather than feared – "This is nothing. A fully trained Elementalist can do far more impressive things than just conjure some flickers."
"Dumbledore must be amazing!" – James exclaimed, his eyes wide with excitement – "No wonder he's the greatest wizard of our time. It must be intimidating to train with someone so powerful."
"Not really." – Catherine responded contemplatively – "He's always been patient with me, and he treats me with a lot of respect. I've never felt threatened by him, despite his power. I can't say the same for Thorne, though."
"He used Elemental magic on you?" – Sirius asked in disbelief – "That's unacceptable! You should report him! Or better yet, show him what you can do with fire!"
"It's not that simple." – the witch sighed – "I don't know exactly how powerful Thorne is, but he seems to be at least a Griffin-type. He also has a rare talent for controlling light and darkness. If I fought him now, I'd lose for sure, and Merlin knows what he'd do to me. It was terrifying enough when he bound me with air during detention just because he didn't like something I said."
"Bloody bastard!" – Sirius erupted, his face flushing with anger – "I always thought that guy seemed like some kind of perv. I bet he drools over young girls…"
"I sincerely doubt it." – Remus intervened, ignoring his friend's mocking laugh – "For one, Professor Thorne has never shown any inappropriate behaviour toward any student, and he's certainly had opportunities. I overheard some seventh-years sending him love notes. Whether we like him or not, it's unfair to spread nasty rumours."
"Moony's right. He's a jackass, but he's most likely not abusing his position as a teacher in that way." – Catherine admitted, then added with a sly smile – "Especially since he's already shagging McGonagall."
"Way to not spread rumours." – Remus sighed in defeat.
"It's not a rumour!" – the girl defended herself – "I saw them making out and heading to her room."
"This feels wrong on so many levels!" – James said, torn between amusement and disgust.
"Well, let's hope that if they ever break up, McGonagall turns him into a giant frog or something." – Sirius laughed, clearly pleased with himself.
"A frog? That's too good for him." – Catherine smirked – "I'd suggest a Knarl—paranoid, unpredictable, and attacks for no reason. Fits him perfectly."
Sirius's grin widened. "Merlin's beard, Flame, remind me never to get on your bad side."
"You already are!" - she replied smoothly, biting her lip to keep from laughing at the overly dramatic sadness etched on Sirius's face.
Catherine tried to focus on Professor Oakenscript's lesson, but her mind kept wandering. The persistent ache from the unsuccessful transformation lingered on the background of her mind, making it nearly impossible to sit still for long. She shifted in her chair, trying in vain to find a more comfortable position.
"Would you mind?" – Snape hissed, his voice barely above a whisper. He quickly returned to scribbling notes with his squeaky, wobbly quill, his cramped handwriting somehow even less legible than usual.
Catherine pressed her lips into a thin line. He was probably the only person who could make her furious in mere seconds. Carter Thorne came in as a close second, but it wasn't quite the same. Yet, despite her dislike for the Slytherin boy, the young witch couldn't deny a nagging sense of sympathy for his situation—both at school and at home.
She knew his housemates were still tormenting him relentlessly, trying to force him to lift the curse on Lavinia and her friends. She'd noticed how he always ate alone, and unless Lily happened to join him during their free periods, he had no one willing to be near him. His robes were often dirty and rumpled, evidence of how often he was pushed around, and she was sure the older Slytherins were still physically bullying him. Occasionally, she spotted bruises on his arms—strategically placed where they wouldn't attract the attention of the professors.
Despite all of that, Snape seemed to have returned to his usual nasty, snarky demeanour toward her, which made the black-haired girl wonder if he felt some twisted relief after his father's death. He had even begun wearing a cologne, the scent drifting toward her whenever she sat beside him. It was surprisingly pleasant—woody and spicy, with hints of flowers, cumin, and vetiver. It reminded her of an open field on a windy day, and though she would never admit it aloud, she found herself enjoying the fragrance more than she wanted to.
When the lesson was finally over, Catherine gathered her books, her hands trembling slightly as she waited for everyone else to leave. The Professor and the rest of the class filed out, leaving her alone with Snape in the small, quiet classroom. As usual, he was focused on arranging the contents of his shabby, worn-out school bag, paying no attention to anything around him.
The girl pulled out a silver box from her own bag that contained a quill crafted from a sleek, ebony feather with a polished brass accent that gave it quite a refined touch. The nob was smooth and precise, designed to make writing effortless. Hesitating for a moment, the young witch left the box on the empty desk and stepped back.
Snape, sensing her movement, glanced at the quill, then narrowed his eyes. His black gaze burned with unmistakable dislike as it fixed on her, catching Catherine off guard. She hadn't expected gratitude, but she'd at least hoped for indifference.
'Why can't he just take it and leave?' – the Gryffindor taught, irritation prickling her nerves – 'Why does he have to make everything so difficult?'
"What is that supposed to be?" – Snape's voice was low and hoarse, dripping with suspicion.
"Isn't it obvious?" – Catherine replied, her confidence faltering.
Snape's scowl deepened. "Why would I care about your new school supplies?" - he snapped, shoving the box to the edge of the desk, away from him.
"I got it for you." – the girl said, feeling her face flush for reasons she couldn't quite explain.
The Slytherin's expression shifted in an instant—from frustration to full-blown fury. "How considerate!" - he hissed through clenched teeth - "Gifting me something I can't possibly afford myself. Should I be grateful, or should I applaud your exquisite taste in patronising charity?"
Catherine blinked, stunned by his venomous response. Her shock, however, quickly turned into anger. "I was just trying to be civil!" - she shouted back - "Your old quill sprays ink everywhere and makes that annoying screeching sound. It's really not a big deal for me—just take it!"
Snape's face turned deathly pale, ugly red blotches breaking out across his already blemished skin. When he finally spoke, his voice was different than his usual screeching. It was deep and velvety, with a hypnotic edge that sent an icy chill down her spine.
"I see." – he smirked, his lips curling cruelly – "The Queen of Gryffindor decided to throw some Galleons around and look after the poor! How very noble of you! I suppose, now that Lily's out of the picture, you're practicing to become a real lady. Though for that to happen, McMahon would first need to gouge out his own eyes."
"Well, in your case, Lily would need to do that, burn her smell receptors, and she still wouldn't date you!" – Catherine snapped back, fuming.
That struck a nerve. Snape grabbed the silver box and hurled it at her, but the girl ducked, the box clattering uselessly to the floor behind her.
"Are you fucking insane?" – she shouted, her green eyes flashing dangerously – "Are you so bitter that you can't even recognise a simple, nice gesture and instead choose to sulk in your own misery?!"
"Oh, look, here she is—the great Catherine Plantier, saviour of the downtrodden and broke!" – Snape scoffed, completely unfazed by her fury. His voice had risen again, turning into a sharp, high-pitched sneer – "You might fool your lackeys, but I saw right through you from day one. You're pathetic— sanctimonious, selfish, and sly. You've never known what it's like to be alone, to be hated, to never get what you deserve. Now, I suppose you've gotten bored with 'helping' your little puppy Lupin and decided to take on a new challenge—'saving' the slimy git from the dungeons. Isn't that what you've called me more than once?"
Catherine's jaw tightened, but the Slytherin wasn't done. He took a step closer, his dark eyes glinting with malice. "You always look down on people for using the Dark Arts, but in truth, you're no better—you hex people left and right without a second thought. And as for your morals, they're about as steady as a stray cat in heat. Though why any of those wankers would even want to touch someone like you is beyond me."
He paused, his lip curling into a disdainful sneer. "The only good thing about you, Plantier, is that unlike Potter and Black, you're not a coward. At least you fight fair, even though you completely lack elegance."
Catherine stood frozen, a rush of heat surging through her body. Her pulse pounded in her ears, and her hands began to tremble as she fought with every ounce of strength not to unleash a torrent of fire at Snape's stupid face. It wasn't news to her that he didn't like her, but she never imagined he thought so lowly of her. The realisation hit hard, especially given her recent acknowledgment—begrudging, though it was—that she actually respected him.
"Fine!" – she shouted, her voice cracking as she struggled against the tears threatening to spill – "You're clearly completely mental—on top of being arrogant and so utterly thick that you can't recognise a genuine gesture even if it smashes you right in that enormous nose of yours! Have it your way then! I'm never offering you any help ever again!"
The young witch bent down, snatched the quill from the floor, and shoved it into her school bag. Without sparing him another glance, she stormed out of the classroom. Heading toward the Great Hall for dinner, she found herself caught in a bottleneck on the first floor, where a flood of students poured out from their nearby lessons, forcing her to slow down when all she wanted was to escape.
"Hey, Flame!" – Sirius's voice made Catherine turn around. He, Peter, and James had appeared behind her, each holding a different Muggle device in their hands – "Done for today?"
"Yeah." – she nodded, her voice a bit flat.
"What's wrong?" – James asked, his brow furrowed in concern – "You look… off."
"Nothing really." – the girl lied, her tone dismissive. She eyed the pen James was holding – "What are you doing with that?"
"I have to make it work again." – he sighed dramatically – "Pretty sure it's broken, though."
"You probably just need to change the refill." – the young witch suggested, earning surprised looks from the three boys – "What? It's pretty obvious."
"You're brilliant, Flame!" – Sirius beamed – "Alright, how do I get mine to work?"
Catherine glanced at the unfamiliar tool Sirius was holding—some kind of metal device with a sharp, rotating cutting wheel and a handle for gripping. She had no idea what that could be.
"Figure it yourself." – she snapped, adding with a satisfied smirk – "Or you can always ask Marianne."
"Ouch!" – James chuckled – "Come on, you two! Don't start bickering before dinner—I'm starving! Honestly, why can't people move faster?"
As if on cue, a group of fifth-year Slytherins emerged from the nearest corridor, cutting off their path. Lavinia Nott led the group, flanked by Valeria Malfoy, their expressions immediately turning hostile as they locked eyes with the Gryffindors.
"Merlin's ghost! If it isn't Miss Egg-Head and her pack of blood-traitor friends!" – Lavinia sneered, her voice dripping with disdain as the other girls laughed obnoxiously.
"Do you want something, or is this just your daily dose of venom you need to release?" – Catherine asked with annoyance.
"Nothing special, Mudblood." – Lavinia smiled slyly – "I just thought I'd check in on you since there's an odd rumour going around. Is it true you stole Evans' boyfriend? It must be a lie because there's no way someone like Greg McMahon would even look at you twice."
"What is this wrench on about?" – Sirius asked, confused.
"The usual batch of lies the Slytherins cook up about me." – the young witch shrugged – "I was starting to worry, honestly. Normally, they start in the beginning of every month. I thought they'd forgotten about me."
"Told you it was a lie." – Valeria Malfoy cut in, her arrogant smile widening – "She looks worse than ever. Even Black dumped her for Marianne Trundle. At least she has breasts."
The Slytherin girls burst into laughter. Catherine's eyes narrowed, her anger bubbling over. "I may not have breasts, but you know what else I don't have?" - she snapped, her voice cold - "Pimples that spell 'bitch' across my face."
"How dare you!" – Lavinia shrieked, turning scarlet as she noticed the small crowd gathering around, some students openly giggling at the Gryffindor's remark. Her eyes flashed furiously, and she hissed like an angry Kneazle, drawing her wand.
The black-haired girl saw the movement and was quicker. She whipped out her own wand, her voice icy and calm. "Expelliarmus!"
Lavinia's wand flew from her hand, clattering to the floor as the fifth-year screamed in frustration, her face contorted in rage. Catherine smirked, enjoying the triumph. In her peripheral vision, she caught sight of Snape in the crowd, his dark eyes watching her intensely, and she allowed herself a small, victorious smile.
"Vestimentum Reducio!"
A female voice sounded from behind, and before Catherine could react, she felt the spell hit her. A horrible squeezing sensation wrapped around her, her clothes tightening painfully. She heard a sharp crack, and then the pressure ceased—but it took her a moment to realise what had happened. Gasps echoed around her, followed by laughter and mocking whistles.
The young witch glanced at the pieces of fabric on the floor that used to be her clothes, and panic set in as she frantically tried to cover her naked body. James leapt in front of her, absolute horror etched on his face. Catherine's gaze shifted to Sirius, who stood frozen, his expression twisted in shock, and something inside her broke. She began sobbing uncontrollably, wishing the earth would split and swallow her whole.
"Stop staring!" – James roared furiously at the gathered crowd – "Get lost—NOW!"
"It's not like there's much to see anyway." – Snape's mocking voice rang out over the murmurs, prompting another wave of laughter.
James and Sirius both whipped out their wands, stepping toward Snape, murder in their eyes.
"Stop it!" – Catherine cried through her tears, her voice cracking – "I don't want any more fighting, please… I just… I need to…"
Suddenly, the girl felt the gentle touch of fabric as a cloak was draped over her shoulders. She looked up, her teary gaze meeting Regulus Black's. He looked genuinely disturbed, almost apologetic.
"Don't touch her!" – Sirius hissed, approaching his brother in a threatening manner. Regulus stepped back, his eyes darting away. "I was just trying to spare us all from that pathetic sight." – he said loudly enough for the Slytherins to hear, before turning and walking away.
"Flame, are you alright?" – James asked softly, wrapping the cloak tighter around her to cover her properly – "Come on, let's get you back to the Gryffindor Tower. Can you walk?"
Catherine nodded, avoiding his gaze, feeling her cheeks burning with shame. She doubted she could ever be more humiliated. Tears rolled down her cheeks again as the crowd finally dispersed, leaving them alone in the corridor.
"Hey!" – James said, gently lifting her chin to make her look at him – "I know this was horrible, and I wouldn't blame you if you were embarrassed. But don't feel that way with us. We'll never judge you—ever. Besides, if it makes things any easier, I'll strip right here, right now, and we'll be even!"
"Eww, no!" – Catherine managed to laugh through her tears.
"I'm always available if you reconsider!" – James grinned – "And Sirius too, right mate? Padfoot?"
They looked around, but Sirius was nowhere in sight. A few moments later, he emerged from a nearby classroom, supporting Peter, who looked dazed and unsteady.
"What happened?" – James exclaimed.
"Apparently, some people are such utter cowards that they don't even have the guts to hex you while looking you in the eye!" – Sirius growled, his face livid – "And then they run away and cover their tracks like the rats they are."
"What are you talking about?" – James asked, bewildered.
"It was Bellatrix, Flame!" – Peter finally managed to croak – "I saw her hex you, and then she stunned me when I got in her way.
"She's not getting away with this!" - James declared, his confusion replaced by cold determination. He glanced at Sirius - "We need to figure out our next move—together."
The other wizard nodded, his expression still clouded with rage. "You can bet we'll make her regret it. And not just her—all of them. They all laughed."
Catherine looked down at the ground, her emotional exhaustion washing over her in waves. The thought of taking revenge on Bellatrix seemed pointless. No amount of payback would erase what had happened. She was the laughingstock of the school now, and she doubted she'd ever want to show her face outside the dormitory again.
"Get up!" – Lily Evans grabbed Catherine's hand and tried to drag her out of bed – "You've sulked here long enough. You're coming with me to Hogsmeade, and you're going to stop pitying yourself!"
"I don't want to go anywhere." – the black-haired girl muttered – "Just let me be."
"No way!" – the other witch shook her head decisively – "I know you've been through a lot, and I understand you feel insecure. But hiding in bed won't help you overcome it. Now hurry up and get dressed!"
Realising that Lily wasn't going to leave her alone, Catherine sighed heavily and crawled out from under the blanket. She shuffled through her wardrobe and grabbed the first thing she saw: a black tracksuit and an oversized hoodie.
Lily eyed her choice sceptically. "Are you sure you want to wear that?"
"Yes." – Catherine replied stubbornly, slipping the hoodie over her head. Her tone left no room for argument.
The two descended to the nearly empty Common Room, where the morning light cast long shadows across the warm, red-and-gold decor. Most of the students had already left for Hogsmeade. Only a handful of first and second-years lingered around, chatting in small groups. Mary who was waiting next to the exit, greeted them cheerfully and the three girls left the Gryffindor Tower.
The air was crisp and filled with the fresh scent of blooming flowers, as the sun peeked through fluffy clouds, casting gentle warmth over the schoolgrounds. A few mermen were playing not very far from the coast of the Black Lake, jumping above its calm surface and diving back with a splash. The village itself was buzzing with excited students running around and enjoying one of their last free moments before the inevitable rush to review for the looming exams.
After a brief stroll along High Street, during which Catherine couldn't shake the awful feeling that everyone was staring at her, the girls decided to stop at The Three Broomsticks for some refreshments. They had just settled inside when Madame Rosmerta brought over a pitcher of ice-cold lemonade. Moments later, Alice Fortescue entered the pub with Marianne Trundle in tow. Catherine groaned inwardly, wishing she'd thought to borrow James's Invisibility Cloak.
Alice waved enthusiastically. "Hey!" - she chirped, her bright smile lighting up the room - "I was wondering if you gals were around. Can we join you? I'm absolutely parched after two hours of walking!"
"Of course, Alice." – Lily said warmly, gesturing to the empty seats – "The more, the merrier. What did you buy?"
As the Hufflepuff eagerly unloaded her shopping haul onto the table, Marianne slid into a seat next to the black-haired witch. Her smile was polite, but Catherine barely mustered a nod in return.
"I heard what happened last week." – Marianne said, sounding concerned – "It's awful. Those bitches think they rule the school. Sirius is right—it's time someone put them in their place."
"Thank you but I'm doing fine." – Catherine replied flatly, pouring herself a glass of lemonade – "I don't need Sirius—or anyone else—starting a vendetta in my name. I can handle things myself."
Marianne raised an eyebrow, her expression wavering between offense and disbelief. "It didn't seem that way." - she said coolly - "Half the school saw you naked. We thought you might appreciate a little support during a hard time."
Catherine's grip on her glass tightened. "Are you speaking for Sirius now too?" - she snapped - "He doesn't need a spokesperson, last I checked."
"Merlin's beard!" – Marianne hissed angrily – "I thought we could still be friends, but apparently, you can't get over your jealousy. You had your chance with Sirius, but you played games instead—teasing him, acting like you were too good for him. Newsflash: a man will only chase for so long. Eventually, he'll choose someone who's actually loving, sweet, and satisfies his desires, not an ice queen who can't figure out what she wants."
Catherine stared blankly at the Hufflepuff, her jaw tightening. Her fingers dug into the table with such force she felt the sharp sting of breaking nails. The conversation around them had stilled; the other girls exchanged nervous glances, unsure what to do.
Thankfully, Lily stepped in, her voice sharp and commanding. "I think we can leave it at that!" - she declared, her green eyes flashing - "Honestly, I hate it when girls only talk about boys. There are plenty of other things worth discussing. Like… what are your plans for the summer?"
"I've had enough socialising for today." – Catherine said stiffly, pushing back her chair and standing – "I'll head to Charmé Chic to see their new collection. Maybe I'll buy a Sorcerié dress. I can afford it, after all."
Marianne scoffed, tossing her glossy hair over her shoulder. "I'm not sure they have a kids' section, but you can try." – she smirked, enjoying the Gryffindor's reddening face – "Nice clothes help you look sexy, but only if there's something worth showing underneath."
Heat surged to the black-haired witch's face, and she clenched her fists. Without another word, she spun on her heel and marched out of the pub, her heart pounding. The Gryffindor couldn't trust herself to stay; the last thing she wanted was to explain to Sirius why she'd hexed his girlfriend.
The fourth-year ducked into the back alleys, avoiding the cheerful crowds of students. Her shoes clattered on the uneven cobblestones as frustration bubbled inside her. 'Should've stayed in bed.' - she thought bitterly – 'I can't believe I lost my temper like that. Marianne will gloat about this forever.'
The girl kicked an empty box in her path, sending it skidding into a wall. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shake Marianne's words. The entire school knew she and Sirius had been snogging whenever they had the chance, but the implication that they'd gone further made her stomach churn. It left her feel childish and immature.
'No wonder he looked so shocked the other day.' – she thought miserably, her shoulders slumping – 'He must've been horrified by the comparison to Marianne. I can't believe I'm so unlucky with my appearance… the only ugly person in my entire family.'
She sighed, sinking into her misery as the distant laughter echoed through the alleyways.
"Levicorpus!" – Catherine heard familiar voice and quickly ran towards the direction where the noise had come from.
Her worst suspicions were confirmed when she turned the corner. There stood James, wand raised, a smug grin on his face as Severus Snape dangled upside down in midair, his robes flapping awkwardly around his knees. The Slytherin's face was a mask of fury, his black eyes burning with hatred. Sirius was leaning casually against the wall nearby, twirling Snape's wand in his hand like a prize, while Peter hovered close by, laughing nervously.
"What the hell are you doing?" – the girl's sharp voice startled the group.
"Damn, Flame!" – James turned to her with a chuckle, his grin widening – "You scared me. As you can see, we're teaching old Snivellus some manners."
"Go fuck yourself, Potter!" – Snape spat, writhing against the spell. His face had turned a deep shade of red from being held upside down, his stringy black hair dangling toward the ground.
"Careful, Snivy, or I might need to use a Cleaning Charm on that filthy mouth of yours." – Sirius said lazily, flashing Catherine a wink – "You're in the presence of a lady, after all."
The Slytherin unleashed a torrent of curses, his voice rising in pure rage, until his dark eyes landed on the young witch. His sneer deepened, and the fury in his gaze seemed to burn even hotter.
Catherine folded her arms, her patience quickly wearing thin. "I asked, what are you doing?" - she repeated, her voice now tinged with irritation. She didn't need this. Not now. Not with Slytherins already looking for excuses to pick fights with her—and her friends giving them exactly what they wanted.
"We told you we'd avenge you." – James said with a nonchalant shrug, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world – "It just so happens this one was easiest to corner. You know—seeing as he doesn't have any friends."
Snape erupted into another tirade of curses, occasionally mixing in spells that fizzled uselessly without his wand. Whether he didn't know how to cast them wandlessly or simply couldn't concentrate in his current state, it hardly mattered. Catherine's fingers twitched toward her own wand, but she forced herself to take a deep breath. The urge to hex every stupid teenage boy in front of her was almost overwhelming.
"I told you I didn't want you to get involved." – she said, her voice sharp and cold – "On top of that it wasn't even Snape who shrank my clothes."
"But he laughed!" – Sirius blurted defensively, his grip tightening on Snape's wand.
"So did half the school." - Catherine shot back, her eyes narrowing - "And not all of them were Slytherins. This is pointless—and it doesn't exactly make you look heroic, ambushing him three against one."
"Oh, come on, Flame!" – James protested, throwing up his hands – "After everything he's done to you, he deserves it. This isn't some duelling club where we have to play fair or be honourable."
Her eyes flashed with anger. "It's between me and him!" - she snapped - "I don't need you to fight my battles for me. If I wanted revenge, I'd hex him myself. Two wrongs don't make a right."
"Alright, alright." - James smirked, raising his wand- "No need to get all fired up over the dungeon bat. Liberacorpus!"
Snape fell to the ground with a painful thud, groaning as he hit the cold street. Sirius didn't even look his way, still twirling the boy's wand in his hand with a bored expression.
James, however, grinned at Catherine. "So, want to go to The Three Broomsticks? My treat—you can have whatever you want."
"I'm fine." – the young witch said curtly, lifting her chin – "I'll go hang out with Remus at the flower shop."
With that she turned around and left, leaving her friends behind.
James groaned, running a hand through his messy hair. "See? They've totally broken her spirit. She wouldn't have defended Snivellus if she was her usual self."
Sirius glanced at Snape, who lay on the ground clutching his ribs and glaring daggers at them. He shrugged, his lips curling into a careless smirk. "Whatever. We'll punish them all anyway. So what if he didn't cast the spell himself? His very existence is offensive."
James and Peter laughed as they strolled off toward High Street, leaving their classmate crumpled on the ground and casually tossing his wand beside him as they went. He grimaced, trying to push himself up, but his legs buckled, and he collapsed with a groan. The fall had been nastier than he thought. After a few more failed attempts, he managed to drag himself to a nearby wall and leaned heavily against it, breathing hard.
"Ha! If it isn't Severus?" - Rodolphus Lestrange's voice rang out, followed by the sharp clap of his heavy hand on Snape's shoulder. The force nearly knocked him back to the ground – "What happened to you, eh? You look like a giant chewed you up and spat you out."
The fourth-year didn't answer, his black eyes darting to both ends of the alley. The street was empty. Even if someone heard him scream, who would bother to help? Rodolphus wasn't alone, of course. Flanking him were Malachi Selwyn, his expression a mask of cold disdain, and Draven Nott, who was smirking like he'd already won whatever game they were playing.
"Not speaking to us, Snivellus?" – Draven sneered, taking a step closer – "What a shame. We came to offer you the deal of a lifetime."
"I'm not interested." – Severus said curtly, tightening his grip on his wand.
Rodolphus raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth curling into a sly grin. "Don't be so hasty. I know we've had… disagreements lately. But you've shown remarkable resilience. Pointless, but still..." - his grin widened as he shot a glance at Malachi - "So here's the deal: lift the curse off Lavinia and the other two girls, and we'll give you some gold. Enough to buy new clothes. Merlin knows you could use it—those rags of yours are an embarrassment to our House."
Severus gritted his teeth. Part of him wanted to accept the offer and be done with it, but he couldn't forget the state Lily had been in after the attack by those bitches. What if it happened again? He needed to drive the lesson home, regardless of the consequences.
"Thanks," - he said flatly - "but I'm quite content with the current situation."
The disbelief on Rodolphus's face was almost satisfying. Malachi, however, was less amused.
"You bloody son of a bitch!" - he snarled, his composure snapping - "Fix her face, or I'll make yours look ten times worse!"
"I don't care." – Snape hissed, his voice low and venomous. He raised his wand, his dark eyes locking onto Malachi's – "But if you try, be prepared to take responsibility for what happens next."
Selwyn's own wand was halfway out of his robes when Draven shook his head decisively. "Not now!" - Draven muttered, his sharp gaze flicking toward Rodolphus.
The latter sighed, shaking his head like a disappointed teacher. "Alright then. We'll do this the hard way." -his voice turned cold - "From now on, your life in Slytherin will be… challenging. And don't forget, Snape: at the end of the day, half-bloods like you are no better than Mudbloods."
Snape's lips curled into a mocking smile, though his stomach churned. "Do your worst!" - he said, his tone laced with defiance. At this point, what could they possibly do to make his life more miserable than it already was?
The library in Tír na Móin Manor had always been regarded as the largest collection of ancient and rare books and scripts on a variety of subjects, occupying nearly the entire ground level of the East Wing, the room's pristine white walls gleamed, catching the sunlight that filtered through towering arched windows. Crafted from rich, dark green timber, the shelving stretched from polished marble floors to vaulted ceilings, their surfaces reflecting the room's gilded accents. Brass bookends and ornate frames cradled old, leather-bound tomes, each carefully curated for their rarity and worth.
Living plants adorned the room, their vibrant foliage softening the scholarly ambiance. Some perched in ceramic pots of delicate craftsmanship, while others cascaded in vines from high corners, their blooms infusing the air with subtle floral notes. At the heart of the space, a large desk, strewn with parchments and quills, faced the grand fireplace. Above it, a carved relief depicted a golden keyhole encircled by intricate ornamentation, bearing the inscription, 'Custos Portae.'[2] It was a reminder of the library's sacred purpose—guarding the knowledge and legacy of the O'Dargan family.
Duke O'Dargan sipped tea from an elaborate Flora Danica cup, his eyes skimming the pages of a weathered book resting on his lap. In his late thirties, he had wavy blond hair that framed his face naturally, giving him a relaxed yet refined appearance. His hazel eyes, warm and mischievous at a glance, concealed the sharpness of a proud and calculating mind.
"You're such a bookworm, Raven." – a rough male voice broke the serene stillness of the library, prompting Duke O'Dargan to raise his gaze and frown. Standing in the doorway was a tall, red-haired wizard with a sharp, chiselled face and piercing blue-green eyes that seemed to radiate confidence and determination. Without so much as a knock, the intruder strode in, his tailored three-piece suit of light brown tweed lending him an air of sophistication that was immediately undercut by the mud clinging to his boots.
He dropped into the seat across from the Duke with an unapologetic grin, oblivious—or indifferent—to the smears now staining the pristine marble floor. Raven's frown deepened as his eyes lingered on the mess, his irritation clear.
"How did you get past the house-elves?" – the blond man asked impatiently, setting his book aside – "And why are you even here? I somehow doubt you just happened to travel from Anglesey to Fermanagh on a whim."
Marquess Lauren Whiters shrugged with an air of practiced indifference, his movements languid yet deliberate. From a sleek, ebony box inlaid with silver filigree, he retrieved a cigar, turning it between his fingers as though testing its texture. With the click of a gold-plated lighter, its polished surface catching the light, he lit the cigar with a slow, precise motion. The flame flared briefly, illuminating his face before settling into a steady glow at the tip. He took a deep drag, releasing a plume of rich, aromatic smoke that spiralled lazily upward, blending into the air of casual decadence around him.
"You know I have my ways of persuading magical creatures to do as I please." – he said with a smirk, watching the faint twitch of annoyance flicker across the Duke's otherwise impassive face – "And you've been so preoccupied with the Academy lately that we've hardly had a minute to talk."
"There are numerous issues requiring attention." – the Duke replied icily, waving a hand to dispel the lingering smoke curling from Lauren's cigar– "And I've told you more times than I care to count: don't smoke those stinking cigars in my home."
"Oh come on!" – the Marquess laughed, leaning back in his chair – "Don't pretend to be such a prude! Besides, I brought you a gift."
With a flourish, the red-haired wizard pulled out a velvet box and tossed it to the other man. Raven caught it midair, his movements sharp and precise. He opened the box, brow furrowing at its contents.
"What kind of barbaric trinket is this?" - the Duke asked coolly, his distaste barely concealed.
"It's an amulet made from a Basilisk fang." - Lauren explained with a glint of amusement - "I don't have much use for it myself, but it's excellent for repelling lesser Dark creatures."
"Charming." – Raven replied, his voice laced with veiled disgust as he set the fang aside – "I hope it wasn't taken from one of North's beasts. I don't have the patience for another of his sanctimonious rants."
"Don't worry." – the Marquess said, waving off the concern – "This one dwelled in a cave near Penwyllt. Even his esteemed Lordship Redmond can make no claims on it."
"Rationality has never been Redmond's strongest suit." – the Duke noted – "So, tell me—are you bored of your dragon hunt, or is there another reason you've brought this to me?"
The red-headed man grin faltered, replaced by a sharper edge. "You're not a very kind host, Your Grace." - he said, his gaze locking on Raven's - "Hunting dragons is a task House Whiters has taken pride in for generations. It's no burden. But yes, there is another reason I've become interested in Basilisks lately."
He paused, his expression darkening. "As you may know, Borealis and Redmond have grown quite chummy recently. And that little weasel Adrian keeps as his footrest has taken to watching my wife."
Raven raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement. "Don't tell me you're jealous."
Lauren's frown deepened. "Of course I'm not!" - he snapped - "There's no chance in hell that snob Adrian Borealis would find Leona remotely interesting. Light knows I don't! But he likely thinks spying on her is the easiest way to uncover whatever information he's after. Since getting anything from Adrian himself is nearly impossible—and I've no desire to subject myself to his Legilimency—I thought it might be wiser to turn my focus to House Redmond. What better way to get their attention than to meddle with their precious Basilisks?"
"Are you really sure Adrian is spying on your House?" – the Duke asked contemplatively, his gaze narrowing – "I've heard your wife has been spending quite a bit of time with Duchess McMahon recently."
The Marquess blinked in surprise and leaned back, studying the man across from him. "You think he's after Louisa?" - he asked, tapping his nose thoughtfully - "Well, I can't exactly blame him. She's a spectacular specimen. I wouldn't mind getting my hands on a Veela one of these days."
"Keep that to yourself." – the blond wizard scoffed, his tone sharp.
"Apologies, Your Grace!" – Lauren grinned mischievously – "I keep forgetting your obsession with purity. But bloody uffern, sometimes I envy Edward McMahon! And I mean just the part about having that creature in his bed, not the bit about that fox Carsilion bending him over whenever he gets the chance."
The Duke's huff turned into a growl, his face twisting in clear repulsion. "Don't speak of that poofter in my house!" - he demanded, his eyes darkening dangerously.
"Fine, fine, I won't." – the red-headed wizard shrugged, raising his hands in mock surrender – "I know he's a touchy subject for you. But I do wonder—what exactly are they plotting between the sheets?"
"He's not a touchy subject!" – the other man hissed – "But I will not tolerate being disrespected, especially in my own home! And as if that weren't enough, the McMahons think they're too good for the Academy. Can you imagine? As if Hogwarts could offer a refined, tailored education even remotely comparable to what we provide!"
The Marquess refrained from commenting, knowing full well how deeply the Duke's pride was tied to the aristocratic school. Instead, he decided to cut to the heart of his visit, and the reason why he had come all the way from Wales.
"I may not have the foresight your bloodline possesses," – he began sincerely – "but even I can see the landscape shifting. Borealis and Redmond are up to something, and I'm certain it won't benefit the rest of us. North is getting old, and without sons to secure his House's future, he had placed all his hopes in Carsilion. But let's be honest—there's no way he will abandon Edward McMahon now. Their bond is hard to break."
The Duke said nothing, though his fingers drummed rhythmically on the arm of his chair.
Lauren pressed on. "It's clear they've been playing some kind of game in recent years—something I haven't quite grasped yet. They may have caught wind of Borealis and Redmond's plans and are angling for support from other Houses in case an alliance forms against them."
"Your point?" – the blond wizard interrupted, his voice clipped with impatience.
The Marquess stood abruptly, his face intense. "My point is that we cannot allow ourselves to be swept away by the storm that's coming." - his voice rose with conviction - "You're a Basilisk Earth Mage, Your Grace, but both I and my son are lower-tier Elementalists. Worse, we've lost our inclination to fire, which has significantly upset the balance among the major Houses."
He paused, his hand gripping the back of his chair. "Imagine what would happen if we were forced to contend with that demon bound to the McMahon's bloodline? We need true fire to subdue her!"
"This is just a hypothesis." – Duke O'Dargan said calmly, his tone measured – "I agree it would be advantageous to restore a line of Fire Mages among us, but what can we do? It's not for lack of effort on your part."
"If only I could get my hands on a female Fire Mage." – the red-headed wizard sighed, pacing restlessly in front of the fireplace – "It's only a ten percent chance of giving birth to a fire-inclined son, but that's still far better than simply hoping it happens naturally."
"That sounds more like fantasy than reality." – Raven replied, exhaling heavily. The easily excitable Head of House Whiters always managed to test his patience – "Female Fire Mages are exceedingly rare, and their families guard them fiercely, precisely because of the chance they pass their inclination to their children. You'd probably have better luck seducing a Veela. They're fire creatures, after all."
"I don't think that's how it works, but it's an intriguing thought." – the Marquess laughed, a sardonic glint in his eyes. He paused, turning back to face the Duke – "Still, I think we can agree that we must do whatever is necessary to ensure the survival of our Houses. That means putting our legacy in the most capable hands, whether or not the heir is born within marriage. We wouldn't want to end up like poor old Alexander, would we?"
"True." – the Duke murmured, staring into the bottom of his empty cup. His expression grew sombre – "It's an unusual and precarious situation. Sooner or later, the House of Prince will be up for grabs, and that could lead to war. If we end up on the wrong side, our lineages could disappear as well."
He looked up, his gaze sharp. "The real question is—do we pick a side, or do we act alone?"
[2] From Latin translates to Guardian of the Gate or Keeper of the Gate.