"Need a break?" – James asked, eyeing Catherine as they neared the end of another lap around Black Lake.
"I'm fine." – she huffed, her breath forming ragged clouds in the February chill.
"I'm not saying you're not, but I'd like to still have legs tomorrow." – the boy teased her gently.
The past few weeks had been tough on Catherine, and James knew she needed an outlet. That's why he had willingly joined her for every jogging session, even as they grew more intense, mirroring her worsening mood. The entire school was shocked when Sirius Black and Marianne Trundle were caught making out after curfew, and the pair strolled into breakfast the next morning, hand in hand, grinning like fools. Catherine's face had been as unreadable as stone, but James noticed the subtle tremble in her hands. She acted indifferent toward the new couple, but the boy knew her too well to believe it. Beneath the calm exterior, she was anything but happy.
James wanted to talk to Sirius, however, that was no easy task. He was still not speaking to Remus, and the atmosphere in their dormitory was far from chatty. Furthermore, James was at a loss for what exactly he wanted to say to his friend. It was completely implausible that someone who had made such a fuss about Catherine kissing Remus would suddenly fall for another witch, especially Marianne, considering her behaviour during their last Hogsmeade visit. On the other hand, it was hard to believe he was doing it entirely out of spite, as there was little chance that would have accomplished anything. Catherine was not one to react well to emotional blackmail.
Moony wasn't much help. He was more concerned with Catherine's deteriorating physical condition than getting involved with Sirius' tantrums, as he'd told James with a dark, frustrated look. On top of that, Sirius was hard to pin down—constantly off with his new girlfriend, and between classes, homework, and Quidditch practice, there was little time to talk. What really gnawed at James, though, was Sirius' apparent disinterest in the Animagi Potion. Catherine didn't need much help brewing it anymore, but once the potion was ready, each of them would be on their own when it came to the transformation. If Sirius wasn't willing to see it through, it could jeopardise the entire project. All their work to help Remus could be for nothing.
"Okay, we can take a short break now." – the young witch's voice broke through James' thoughts. They slowed to a stroll around the castle grounds, both of them breathing heavily.
"I think you're overdoing it with the workouts." - the boy said casually - "Wouldn't it be better to focus more on duelling? I'm still not making any progress with wandless spells."
"That's hardly my fault." - Catherine shrugged, a faint smile appearing as she lifted her face to the rare winter sun. The grounds brimmed with Hogwarts students, their cheerful voices carried on the cool breeze - "Plus, intense magic drains you physically too. There's not much difference."
"Still, alternating between the two might be a good idea." - James insisted, eyeing her pale face with concern. Dark circles hung beneath her green eyes, and it bothered him - "Are you still having nightmares?"
"I am." - she said shortly - "But that won't change with more exercise, whether physical or magical. Nonetheless, if you want, we can practice spells. It doesn't matter to me."
"I don't want this to feel like a burden for you!" - the wizard blurted defensively - "I only suggested it because I thought it might take your mind off..."
"Off what?" – Catherine asked calmly, though a dangerous edge crept into her voice.
"You know…" – James muttered, suddenly questioning whether this conversation was a good idea.
"I'll say this just once." – the black-haired girl replied, her tone turning icy – "I don't care if Sirius snogged every witch in this school. It's not my problem, and I don't understand why you keep insinuating it has anything to do with me. He's one of my closest friends, but his love life is his own. Maybe it'll even help him relax—I can't stand how snarky he's been these last few weeks."
James stopped dead in his tracks, staring at her back. How could someone as smart and observant as Catherine be so completely blind to her own feelings about Sirius? He couldn't wrap his head around it.
'Perhaps she's just in denial.' – he thought trying to catch up with the girl – 'If she admitted she was hurt by Sirius dating someone else, then the problem would finally become real, and she'd have to deal with all the consequences. What's gotten into him?! Why didn't he talk to her first?! Bloody ridiculous! It's like talking to a brick wall with those two!'
From the tight set of Catherine's lips, James could tell she was done talking. Despite his frustration with both of his friends, he knew better than to push the topic any further.
"You're such a coward! Even the girls managed to do it!" – a loud voice suddenly grabbed their attention.
A group of third-years had gathered around the Whomping Willow, taking turns sneaking close to the tree, trying to touch its trunk without being smashed by its thick, thrashing branches. Dorian MacDougal from Ravenclaw stood next to Scarlett Porter, flushed from her mad dash to the tree and back. He was looking mockingly at Davey Gudgeon, who seemed like he wished the ground would swallow him whole.
Davey, a lanky Gryffindor with brown eyes and chestnut hair, was usually quiet and always tripping over his too-large feet. James could easily see why he didn't want to join the game. Dorian was athletic, and everyone knew Scarlett was incredibly fast and agile—even if her coordination on the ground didn't match her skill in the air. Comparing her to Davey was absurd, especially since it was common knowledge that he fancied Scarlett, though he was far too shy to do anything about it.
Perhaps out of desperation, the third-year gathered all his courage and sprinted toward the Whomping Willow, ignoring the terrified gasps of his classmates. To everyone's shock, he actually made it to the trunk. But when he turned to run back, he lost his balance and fell hard. In an instant, one of the tree's massive branches slammed down on him. He screamed in pain, rolling desperately to escape, but it was no use. Another branch whipped across his face, sending him flying several metres.
The rest of the students stood frozen, wide-eyed, unable to move as the scene unfolded. Scarlett was the only one who snapped into action, turning and sprinting toward the castle to find help.
"We need to get him out of there!" – Catherine shouted, drawing her wand – "By the time a teacher arrives, there won't be anything left of him!"
"Agreed!" – James responded, following her as they approached the ramping tree – "Can you set it on fire?"
"I can, but I don't see the point in burning poor Davey on top of everything else that's happened to him!" – the young witch answered, her mind racing as she took aim at the Whomping Willow – "Maybe this will work better. Immobulus!"
The branches froze mid-swing, and James immediately dashed forward to drag his housemate out of the tree's reach. Davey was bleeding badly and seemed unconscious.
"I think his nose is broken." – James mumbles as he carefully settled the boy on the cold ground.
"Looks like it." – Catherine agreed, kneeling beside the injured boy – "But I'm more worried about his eye."
"Can you help him?" – James asked, glancing toward the castle.
"I'll try to stop the bleeding." – the girl said, frowning as she spread her hands over Davey's head. A soft blue glow emerged beneath her palms, casting a faint light across his features – "But I won't attempt to mend his nose or eye. I'm not sure how effective this magic is at restoring functions like sight or smell."
James nodded, watching as the blood pouring from the young wizard's face stopped completely and the scratches on his chin and neck faded away. Just then, Scarlett returned, with Professor McGonagall and Professor Thorne in tow.
The Head of Gryffindor was furious about the incident, promising severe punishment for everyone involved. Carter Thorne conjured a stretcher for the injured student, gently levitating him as he headed toward the Hospital Wing. James noticed that before leaving, the professor gave Catherine a long look. She appeared completely exhausted, struggling to stay on her feet. For a moment, the boy thought the DADA teacher seemed genuinely concerned, but he quickly brushed the idea aside and hurried over to support his friend as they also made their way back to the castle.
"Don't worry." – James said, noticing Catherine's anxious face – "Madame Pomfrey will have Davey fixed up in no time. And you really helped him there."
"That's not what I'm worried about." – the young witch replied thoughtfully – "We have to figure out a way to deal with the tree. The passage beneath it is our only way to reach Remus when we become Animagi."
"Ah, right!" – the boy exclaimed – "Can't we just use the same Freezing Charm you did?"
"Not a good idea." - Catherine sighed, the weight of yet another challenge pressing on her – "The Freezing Charm stops the tree, but it won't move again until the counter-spell is cast. We can't do that from the inside, and if we just leave it frozen, someone will definitely notice."
"Damn! I hadn't thought of that." – the wizard muttered, already wracking his brain for solutions – "There's got to be a better way. We'll talk with Moony and figure it out. Don't stress over that too!"
"You're right." – the girl said with a crooked smile – "It's just one more thing to keep me up at night!"
Catherine skipped lunch on Thursday. Her stomach still growled with hunger, but the sight of Sirius alternating between feeding Marianne and kissing her made the young witch feel sick. She excused herself, citing unfinished Ancient Runes homework, and retreated to an empty classroom, flipping through her textbook without much focus. Frustration welled up, much of it aimed at herself. There were far more important things in her life than Sirius' romantic escapades—which shouldn't have bothered her at all. Yet, she couldn't shake the irritation. Her thoughts drifted back to the conversation she'd had with her brother two days earlier, hidden away in the passage behind a mirror on the fourth floor.
"What's this place?" – the young witch asked, her eyes scanning the vast, empty hall. It was big enough to host a gathering of ten or more people, though now it echoed with only their footsteps..
"A secret passage." - Greg replied with a sly grin - "It leads to the Hogsmeade graveyard. You're not the only one who enjoys unearthing this castle's hidden corners."
The girl raised an eyebrow, a spark of curiosity in her gaze. "Handy for secret meetings, then." - she mused, still surveying their surroundings - "But, you did promise me some answers."
"I did." – the wizard nodded – "I take it you're asking about the unicorn?"
"Yup." – Catherine's lips curled into a smirk – "I find it hard to believe our family's newfound passion for improving wizarding schools."
Greg chuckled softly. "I know, right?. We had... other motives."
"What kind of motives?" – the girl asked with curiosity.
"Let's just say, we suspect a few of the major Houses have their eyes here. Spies, possibly. We wanted to test the waters."
The mention of spies made Catherine's brows knit in concern. Greg noticed immediately, offering a quick reassurance.
"They're watching me." - he said, voice softening - "Don't worry, it's part of the game. I'm the McMahon heir, after all. They have no reason to suspect you."
"But if that's the case, shouldn't we avoid being seen together?" – the young witch's voice betrayed a note of disappointment at the thought.
Greg felt a wave of tenderness as he saw her pout. "No." - he said, gently but firmly - "Acting differently would raise more suspicion. Besides, they're probably using students with ties to their Houses to keep an ear out. It's not that they're hunting for information, just... keeping aware in case something valuable slips."
"So what exactly are you testing with the unicorn?" – the girl asked, her scepticism still lingering.
The fifth-year glanced at her, his tone casual. "We've heard that Lauren Whiters has recently developed quite the interest in unicorns. There's no way he wouldn't jump at the chance to get his hands on a rope made from Veela hair. It was the perfect setup to see if House Whiters has active spies among us—and to offer the Marquise a favour he wouldn't refuse."
"House Whiters is known for their special connection to magical creatures, right?" - Catherine asked, trying to recall everything she'd ever learned about Larren Whiters and his family.
Greg nodded. "Exactly. They also used to be renowned for having the strongest Fire Mages. But now things have changed. The current Head of the House is a Water Mage, and his eldest son is an Earth Mage. It's a sore spot for them, no doubt."
"Why would that bother them?" - Catherine asked, memories of Whiters ancestors from her dreams flickering in her mind.
The boy smirked. "Because they've always prided themselves on their Fire Mages' raw power. Nothing compares to the sheer might of true fire. And now the current Marquise isn't even a Kraken-type Water Mage—he's a Siren. I don't know much about his son, but I'd bet it frustrates them not to hold the same dominance in magical strength they once did."
"Does it even matter? It's not like the Heads of the Houses are going to duel each other." - Catherine scoffed.
"But if they did—hypothetically—House Whiters would be in serious trouble." - Greg replied, his tone more thoughtful - "The seven Houses are supposed to be equals, but that depends heavily on each generation's strength. Right now, the strongest Elementalists are Dad, Adrian Borealis, and Raven O'Dargan, an Earth Mage. Duke Prince is also a Thunderbird-type Air Mage, but he's getting old, and I doubt he could take on Borealis in a fight. Of course, as the Head of the Council, he's protected by the first three Guardians, who only answer to him. That leaves Houses Redmond, Lovett, and Whiters at a disadvantage."
"And we're trying to capitalise on that." - the black-haired witch concluded, a spark of pride in her voice for her father and brother.
"You could say that." – the young wizard grinned - "Mom's already done a great job getting close to Whiters' wife. If we secure a strong alliance with them, maybe even offer them the backing of a Fire Mage, it could tip the scales in our favour. They'd be more likely to support us in the Council—especially when it comes to overlooking any... breaches of the Pact."
"Greg, if the Whiters have such extensive knowledge of magical beings and creatures, do you think they might know how to cure a werewolf?" - Catherine asked, her mind already considering how a future alliance could benefit her.
The boy raised an eyebrow, eyeing his sister curiously. "That's a strange question." - he remarked - "As far as I know, there's no cure for lycanthropy."
"I ask because a very reliable source mentioned that one of the major Houses might have found a way to cure it." – the young witch replied, her tone dignified, as though daring him to doubt her.
Greg blinked, clearly confused, but he knew better than to press her for more details. "Well, each House has its own unique talents and secrets. That's why we belong to those Houses after all. It could be the Whiters... but it could just as easily be someone else. Take House Lovett, for example— Paracelsus was one of their most prominent members. They've built their wealth through pharmaceuticals and magical remedies, and despite their greed, they've produced more Healers than any other House. Some of them were even pioneers in their field."
Catherine took a deep breath and snapped her book shut. A sharp pulse of pain throbbed in her temples. 'At the end of the day, despite learning more about the other Houses, I'm no closer to finding someone who can help Remus.' - she thought, her frustration simmering just beneath the surface.
The entire game of politics and secrets that the aristocrats played was wearing thin on her patience. She understood her family was doing everything they could to outmanoeuvre the Council, but it all felt maddeningly arbitrary, a tangle of hidden motives and uncertainties. Nothing solid to hold onto, nothing that brought her any closer to what she truly wanted.
'I should just burn them all.' – she thought sulkily, rubbing her temples in frustration. The bicorn horn she had swiped from Professor Slughorn was long gone, and without more Dreamless Sleep Potion, getting through the day was becoming nearly impossible.
Her exhaustion had worsened after healing Davey Gudgeon over the weekend. Using Ancient Magic in such a way always left her depleted, and this time had been no exception. While she was relieved her housemate was safe—Madame Pomfrey had confirmed he'd been on the verge of losing his eye—Catherine struggled to regain her strength. The toll was starting to show. Her spells were less accurate, her thoughts clouded and unfocused, and the constant headaches made it impossible to concentrate.
Tears poured down her face unexpectedly, offering a strange sense of relief. After weeks of being stretched to the breaking point, her body had finally surrendered, as she wept without a sound, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. She stared at the book she was browsing, its pages darkening with wet spots, her mind feeling distant, as though the exhaustion had dulled her to the point of numbness.
A shadow crossed the desk, causing Catherine to glance up. To her dismay, Severus Snape had arrived early. Their eyes met, and in that brief moment, she noted that he looked as tired and drained as she felt. The boy hesitated, clearly surprised to find her sitting there, tears silently streaming down her face.
Expecting the usual sharp comment, the black-haired girl steeled herself and waited—but nothing came. Instead, the Slytherin quietly took out his notebook and started reviewing, his usual snide behaviour replaced with an uncharacteristic silence.
Grateful for his unexpected restraint, Catherine wiped her face and followed his example, forcing herself to calm down before the rest of the students arrived. By the time Professor Oakenscript began the lesson, the Gryffindor had regained her composure and, oddly, felt better after the emotional release. It was a small comfort, especially considering the sheer volume of new material on tenses they had to cover.
As she finished scribbling her tenth page of notes, she heard a sharp mutter from Snape's side of the desk. He had somehow broken his quill, and judging by his expression, he didn't have a spare. His black eyes lingered on the unfinished sentence in frustration, another curse escaping under his breath.
Without thinking, Catherine rummaged through her bag and quietly placed an extra quill beside him. She didn't meet his gaze, but she could feel the weight of his stare, her face flushing unexpectedly. A few seconds passed, and then she heard the familiar sound of quill on parchment—the boy had swallowed his pride and resumed writing.
When class ended, Snape bolted from the room, leaving the quill behind. Catherine sighed, pocketing it before heading toward the Great Hall. After skipping lunch, she was starving.
'The more time I spend with this guy, the less I understand him.' – she shook her head, dismissing the thought. As the aroma of roasted potatoes and rosemary wafted through the air, her focus shifted entirely to her rumbling stomach.
'A counter-curse is most effective when whispered, as louder incantations can accidentally strengthen the original curse.'
Carsilion Egbert stared down at the parchment before him, his gaze catching on the name scrawled at the top. He let out a long, exasperated sigh. Tullia Parkinson. Of course. He knew some students were more captivated by curses than counter-curses, but the sheer level of foolishness displayed in this essay was staggering.
He glanced at the teetering pile of ungraded papers and let out a hiss of irritation. At least five better ways to spend the evening sprang to mind—none of which involved confronting the sobering reality that certain people simply refused to pay attention.
'I wonder what Minerva's up to at the moment.' – the man mused, his heart rate quickening as images filled his mind—ones far from suitable for work. With a sigh, he grabbed another parchment, resigning himself to the thought that she was probably grading papers just like him. The Deputy Headmistress never abandoned her duties, no matter how much he might beg.
'Maybe she'd reconsider if I got on my knees.' – he thought, unable to suppress a smirk at what he could do from that position.
His eyes wandered back to the essay. "When performing a counter-curse, it's crucial to match the intensity of the original spell to fully negate its effects." - he muttered, raising an eyebrow. 'Wait, what?' - he blinked at the parchment, double-checking the name – 'What on earth possessed her to write that?'
A loud crack of Apparition made the Marquise nearly fall from his chair, his hand darting for the wand resting on the desk.
"Are you fucking insane?!" – he yelled – "I could've hexed your head off! Who Apparates into someone's office without warning?"
"Don't be such a drama queen! It's Hogwarts! Nobody can Apparate here but me!" – replied Duke Edward McMahon, settling into the armchair opposite his friend's desk.
"When someone just pops out of thin air, one tends to react on instinct." – Carsilion scoffed, pouting.
"And when that someone is the First Guardian, he ought to be better at assessing the situation before acting on instinct." – the other wizard retorted with a smirk, eyeing the papers in front of him – "Are you still working? I guess your new friend who you refuse to discuss with me has quite a positive influence on you."
"I'm still working because these essays don't have the courtesy to correct and grade themselves." – the Marquise said sarcastically – "And I would've been done ages ago if they weren't riddled with errors."
The Duke casually snatched the paper his friend was grading, scanning it quickly. His brow furrowed as he read. "Is this Catherine's? That's... not great."
"Tell me about it." – Carsilion growled, taking the parchment back.
"Should I be concerned?" – the blond man asked seriously – "Judging by her final grades, I thought she had no trouble with schoolwork."
"She doesn't." – the DADA teacher sighed – "Knowing her, she probably did this on purpose just to torment me. It's not a secret how much I hate grading this stuff."
"I'm being serious, Carter!" – the Duke insisted – "She doesn't open up to us about anything. If it weren't for you and Greg, I'd have no clue what my daughter is going through. I'm constantly worried she's being bullied or that those bastards attacking Muggle-borns might try to harm her."
"I don't know why you think your daughter is so easily harmed." – the Marquise shrugged off his friend's anxiety – "She's not someone you can mess with, and everyone knows it. Plus, she's got an entire entourage ready to defend her at a moment's notice."
"Then why did she almost burn my study during the holidays?" – the other wizard asked, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice – "I thought she had a great time with her friends over Christmas. So it probably means she's stressed about something else at school, isn't she?"
"I don't know. Maybe she was just annoyed with you." – Carsilion replied with a smirk.
"It's not funny!" – Edward snapped – "It was a powerful outburst, and I'm certain she also used some amount of true fire. Do you realise how dangerous that is?!"
"Still quite impressive." – the Marquise mumbled thoughtfully – "I was just thinking the other day—there hasn't been a Fire Mage among the aristocracy for over seventy years. I believe the last one was Lauren's grandfather, and he was a Salamander-type."
"True." - the Duke nodded - "Though, from what I've heard, he was still exceptionally powerful, easily matching some of the other Heads of Houses. If Dumbledore is right and Catherine is a Phoenix type, it's going to be a huge deal. The Whiters would have a hard time justifying the killing of a Fire Mage after so many years without one in the main families."
"That's what I expect." – Carsilion nodded – "I hope you'll have better luck with them than I've had with Duke Prince."
"Still no word from him?" – the other wizard raised an eyebrow – "That's unusual. You're the First Guardian! You should be able to talk to the Head of the Council."
"I'm the First Guardian in name only. Not my fault no one can beat me in a duel." - the auburn-haired man grumbled - "Last time I pushed for a meeting, I was told Alexander wasn't feeling well and wouldn't see anyone for the foreseeable future."
"This is really concerning." - Edward rubbed his eyes, sighing - "I hoped we could make some progress with him before I meet with Lovett. They're a tough nut to crack without the right incentive."
"I do what I can." – the Marquise stated defensively – "Honestly, I'm a bit hurt. It's not pleasant when your own Master of Air ignores you. I thought we had a stronger bond."
"In times like this, I'm glad my Master of Water was my father." – the Duke replied with a smile – "Saved me from a lot of complications and disappointments."
"Hah!" - Carsilion laughed bitterly - "I would've hated having my father teach me. Thank Merlin he's a Water Mage. Actually, I remembered something interesting recently. My father was Eileen Prince's Master of Water. I vaguely recall seeing her at home during the holidays, but I never paid her much attention. Plus, I'm pretty sure I wasn't aware of who she was back then. As you know, I was busy avoiding my father and everything related to him."
"Well, it's not that surprising." - the other wizard noted - "Your father used to be the First Guardian. It's plausible that Alexander asked him to help train the Prince heiress."
"I suppose." – the Marquise agreed – "Though I imagine it would've been tricky with her being away during the school year."
"I wonder if she ever mastered using the soul of water before running away." - Edward mused - "Speaking of which, I'd better go. Greg's probably waiting for me. I want to start teaching him some basic attack techniques tonight. You never know when he might need them."
"No time for a drink?" – Carsilion asked, a hint of disappointment in his voice as he glanced at the pile of ungraded essays on his desk.
"Not tonight, sorry." – his friend grinned apologetically – "But I'll make it up to you! Louisa and I are heading to Paris for Valentine's Day. So how about drinks and dinner the weekend after we're back?"
"It's going to be Quidditch weekend then. I can't." – the DADA teacher sighed – "There's always a lot of work and rule-breaking after a match."
"Oh, right!" – Edward exclaimed, his expression darkening slightly – "I wish I could see Catherine fly. I was a bit surprised when she wanted to join the team."
"She's quite good." – the Marquise confirmed with a hint of pride – "If I didn't knew any better, I'd think she was an Air Mage."
"That would have saved me a lot of Galleons on a broom." – the other wizard laughed – "In any case, enjoy your Valentine's Day, and don't forget to drink plenty of water. I don't want my best friend falling ill from... over-celebration."
"That's rather rich, coming from you." – the DADA professor chuckled – "Don't worry. My friend and I will have to pace ourselves since we have teaching duties we have to fulfil."
"Don't get touchy! I'm just teasing." – the Duke smiled – "I'm genuinely happy for you, and I hope to meet Minerva sooner rather than later. I'm curious how she managed to capture the heart of high society's most notorious bachelor."
"I'm not in love with her!" – Carsilion shouted, but Edward had already disapparated, his laughter still echoing in the room.
Catherine stood in the middle of High Street, unsure of what to do next. For a fleeting moment, she considered turning around and heading back to Hogwarts. Most of the students were buzzing with excitement; Valentine's Day coinciding with a visit to Hogsmeade was a highlight for many. But Catherine wasn't among them.
Almost all of her friends had dates, except for Mary, who had chosen to stay behind, still recovering from her last relationship. Remus was busy in the flower shop, and Sirius and Marianne were wandering around, stopping every few steps to snog. The sight made Catherine's fingers itch with the urge to conjure true fire.
Professor Slughorn had reserved Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop for the afternoon and invited some of his favourite students for a tea party. After her experience at the last Slug Club event, the young witch was reluctant to attend. But what else was she supposed to do in the afternoon?
"Hey, there you are." – James' voice cut through her thoughts, startling her – "Wondering why we're the only ones in this bloody village without dates?"
"That depends." – she replied flatly.
"On what?" – the wizard asked, puzzled.
"On whether you're about to suggest we go on a date." – Catherine said, an amused smirk playing at her lips.
"Right, because that's exactly what I need." – James scoffed, throwing an arm around her shoulders – "Then I'd have to move out of the dorm because I wouldn't dare sleep in the same room as Sirius."
"Why? Planning on dating Marianne too?" – the witch asked, trying to sound casual, but James noticed the sharpness in her tone.
"Look, I couldn't find the chance to properly bring up the subject with him, but I'm certain there's some explanation." – the boy replied earnestly.
"What's there to be explained?" – Catherine shrugged – "Marianne's beautiful, and Sirius is one of the most attractive boys at school. It's natural they'd like each other."
"It's not just about looks." – James insisted.
"Easy for you to say." – the young witch scoffed – "You don't have a date because you don't want one. Plenty of girls like you. Gwendolyn Boot couldn't stop staring at you in Charms last Thursday."
"No, it's not easy for me to say." – the boy snapped – "So what if Gwen was watching me? She's not Lily! And yes, I really believe looks aren't everything. I have to—otherwise, I'd stand no chance against McMahon."
Catherine studied James, carefully weighing his situation. They all teased him about his obsession with Lily, but she couldn't deny his persistence. Seeing her together with Greg had clearly hurt him, yet somehow, James managed to stay positive, clinging to his belief in a future with the red-headed witch.
"Want to come to Slughorn's tea party with me?" – the black-haired girl suggested, hoping to distract him from his heartache – "Fair warning, though—there'll be plenty of stuck-up, unpleasant people. But hey, free sweets!"
"Why not?" – James shrugged – "It's not like I have other plans. Besides, maybe I'll get a chance to let off some steam."
"By drinking tea?" – the young witched chuckled as they started walking toward Madam Puddifoot's.
"I was thinking more along the lines of finding a reason to hex a few Slytherins." – he grinned.
"Oh, there'll be plenty of them there, but count me out." – Catherine warned – "I'm sick of spending my evenings in detention."
Unfortunately, James' desire to hex someone was put to the test sooner than expected—without a Slytherin in sight at that point. Right in front of Madam Puddifoot's, Lily Evans stood in a stunning light-blue winter coat, clutching a bouquet of red roses. Greg leaned in beside her, whispering something that had Lily's face flushing a shade as deep as the roses.
Catherine felt James halt abruptly beside her, and she braced herself to grab him if he showed any sign of doing something reckless. But the trouble for her brother came from another direction.
"You really are dating him!" – Snape's voice rang out, high-pitched and furious. He had just emerged from the tea shop, his black eyes boring into Greg, whose arm was now wrapped possessively around Lily's waist.
"How does this concern you?" – Greg asked cooly.
"I'm not talking to you!" – the Slytherin hissed, half-angry, half-pleading, his gaze locked on Lily, who refused to meet his eyes and looked on the verge of tears.
"I don't give a damn who you're talking to, Snape!" – the aristocrat snapped – "I've tried to respect the... strange relationship you have with Lily. For some reason, she insists you're not so bad. But when you show up like this—screeching and making her anxious—I will intervene. You need to understand you'll never have her the way you want! If you truly value your friendship, accept it and stop acting like a jealous boyfriend. Know your place!"
Catherine instinctively gripped her wand beneath her cloak. The situation was spiralling out of control. Though Greg was technically right, she recognised the cold fury in Snape's eyes—a fury she knew all too well, one that made her skin crawl. His face was pale, almost mask-like, and his entire frame seemed to vibrate with raw magic. Did Greg have any idea what kind of trouble he was stirring up?
Her thoughts were cut short by a sudden, forceful gust of wind that nearly swept her off her feet. James lunged forward, holding his friend tightly as debris whipped around them.
"Greg, no! That's enough!" – Lily's cry made Catherine glance over James' shoulder. She saw Snape on the ground, with blood streaming down his face, surrounded by shards of shattered ice. He was panting heavily, but his eyes burned with a readiness to continue the fight.
The fifth-year was still standing, though his appearance was far from unscathed. Dust clung to his clothes, and broken branches and stones lay scattered around him, some of which had clearly made contact. For once, the flawless façade he usually maintained was visibly fractured—his expression a mix of surprise and anger.
"This is unacceptable!" – Lily shouted, tears glistening in her emerald eyes – "We're going to settle this right now! Sev, come with me. I need to talk to you!"
"I don't think that's a good idea." – the young lord interjected, his gaze locked on Snape, assessing his every move.
"It's the only way!" – the red-headed girl exclaimed – "I refuse to hide our relationship anymore! He's my best friend. He will accept it, but I have to be honest with him!"
With that, she helped a shaky Snape to his feet and led him a few steps away to talk in private. Greg watched them intently, his eyes never leaving their retreating forms.
"The fuck was that?" – James hissed – "How can they fight so recklessly? What if they'd hurt her?!"
"Well, the roses certainly didn't survive." – Catherine noted, eyeing the smashed flowers rolling in the dirt, their red petals scattered like blood on the cobblestones.
"And that wind… I don't get it." – James frowned as they finally stepped inside the tea shop – "I didn't see Snivellus use a wand."
"I wonder..." – Catherine muttered under her breath.
Surprisingly, the tea party was pleasant. There weren't too many Slytherins, and Professor Slughorn was in high spirits, showering everyone with compliments. Even James received praise for his Quidditch skills, and he and Slughorn had a brief chat about the upcoming game with Hufflepuff. Thankfully, Snape never returned, and no further incidents occurred.
As they were leaving, the Potions Master approached them with a fatherly smile, leaning in to whisper to Catherine. "It seems you've caught the eye of many wizards, my dear! Enjoy yourself, but when it's time for serious decisions, I'd be glad to introduce you to some distinguished wizards from good families—ones who can complement your talents with the right name and connections. Not that Mr Potter isn't charming, of course, and his father is quite well-known for Sleekeazy's Hair Potion, but his family do lack certain ties."
Catherine managed a polite nod, but it took her a good ten minutes to process what he had just implied.
'He thinks of me as some broodmare who turned out to win races but lacks pedigree.' - she thought, stunned - 'Now he wants to ensure I procreate with the right family to enrich the Pure-blood gene pool. How sick is that?'
The young witch glanced at James, who walked beside her, blissfully unaware of Slughorn's parting words. She shuddered, imagining how the professor would react if he knew who she truly was.
'Now I understand why Greg avoids him so diligently.' – she mused, her mind drifting back to the strange scene earlier. She had to admit she was impressed that Snape managed to hold his own against the heir of House McMahon. But something bothered her – 'That wind felt odd. Could it be that he's strongly inclined to air, like I am to fire? But I couldn't control my outbursts, and it seemed like he did. Should I tell Dumbledore?'
"You seem tense." – James observed as they left the village, heading back to the castle – "Still brooding over Sirius and Marianne?"
"No, I was thinking about Snape." – the girl admitted honestly.
"Eww! Why?" – James exclaimed with disgust.
"What happened earlier was very strange and I thought he might be like me – having strong elemental inclination but to air." – the young witch said with a shrug.
"Too bad he's not inclined to water. Could have helped with his overall hygiene." – the other Gryffindor snorted, earning a smirk from Catherine – "I mean, it's possible. You said everyone's inclined to some element. But it's pretty weird if he's a potential Air Mage yet can't keep his pathetic arse on a broom."
Catherine scoffed sarcastically. "You're right. I'm overthinking it." – she brushed the thought away decisively – "I don't give a damn who's inclined to air and who's not. We have to focus on winning next Saturday!"
"That's a given!" – James grinned – "We fly like pros even without being Air Mages. The game is ours!"
"You ready, Flame?" – Sirius asked, ruffling Catherine's hair as they slipped into their red Quidditch robes.
"Sure!" – the girl smiled and grabbed her broom – "We should try the Hawkshead Attacking Formation today. I think we finally nailed it during our last practice."
"We can but I'm not sure we're going to have time." – the young wizard chuckled, adjusting his gloves – "The new Seeker of Hufflepuff doesn't stand a chance against James."
"She definitely doesn't!" – James called out, a smug grin spreading across his face.
"Great!" – Sirius smirked – "Marianne and I made a bet with each other on the result of the game, so we just have to win!"
"Of course! My biggest motivation in life is to help you rub it in Marianne's face!" – James snorted.
"That's exactly what I'm counting on!" – the other boy chuckled, as Catherine felt her face flush, uncertain whether it was from embarrassment or irritation.
The Gryffindor team entered the Quidditch pitch to the cheers of the crowd. The weather was dry and cold, and if not for the wind, the conditions would have been perfect.
The match kicked off with a roar from the crowd, players rocketing into the sky as Madam Hooch released the Quaffle. The Gryffindor Chasers immediately seized control, with Sirius clutching the Quaffle under his arm as they sped forward. Without missing a beat, they snapped into the Hawkshead Attack Formation, a tight arrowhead arrangement that left little room for error. Hufflepuff's Chasers—Philippa Finch, Daisy Diggory, and Owen Spinnet—scrambled to break through, but the Gryffindors' quick, seamless passing made it almost impossible, the Quaffle zipping through the air like a red blur as they pushed closer to the Hufflepuff goalposts.
Sirius deftly dodged a Bludger sent hurtling his way by Leif Thornton, spinning sharply to the left and ducking as it whizzed inches past his ear. At the same time, Catherine and Scarlett executed a series of feints, throwing the Hufflepuff defence into utter chaos. Scarlett then launched the Quaffle toward Catherine with a swift overhead pass, just as another Bludger barrelled toward them. Marvolo Wood intercepted it at the last second, deflecting it with a resounding crack.
Keegan Macmillan, the Hufflepuff Keeper, braced himself as Catherine surged forward, eyes locked on the goalposts. With a powerful flick of her wrist, she sent the Quaffle rocketing past Keegan's outstretched fingers, scoring Gryffindor's first goal. The stands erupted in cheers, but there was no time for celebration. The Gryffindor Chasers immediately regrouped, maintaining relentless pressure to keep the momentum.
On defence, Greg McMahon was an impenetrable wall.. With razor-sharp reflexes, he swerved in front of the hoops, batting away shot after shot from the Hufflepuff Chasers. Owen Spinnet attempted a fast break with a Sloth Grip Roll to dodge a Bludger, but Greg anticipated his aim and blocked the shot with a spectacular leap, maintaining Gryffindor's lead.
The match intensified as Sirius narrowly avoided a second Bludger, creating an opening for Scarlett to snatch up the Quaffle and pass it back to Catherine, keeping the game firmly in Gryffindor's grasp.
Then, suddenly, James Potter's eyes caught a glimmer near the far end of the pitch—the Golden Snitch! Flattening himself against his broom, he shot forward in a blur. Rosalind Sloane, Hufflepuff's Seeker, spotted it too and darted after him. The crowd held its breath as the two Seekers weaved between players, expertly dodging Bludgers in a heart-stopping chase.
Just as it seemed the Snitch might escape, James executed a jaw-dropping dive, reaching out with his hand in a blur of motion. His fingers closed around the Snitch, yanking it out of the air in a stunning catch that brought the entire stadium to its feet.
Gryffindor had won, securing the match in a record 15 minutes. The Hufflepuff team hovered in disbelief as their opponents erupted in celebration. It had been a whirlwind of a game in which James Potter's spectacular catch sealed their victory, and his House's hopes for finally winning the Quidditch Cup.
Landing on the ground, Catherine still felt adrenaline surging through her veins. The Pitch was quickly swarmed with students eager to congratulate the team. The air buzzed with excitement, and Sirius, grinning ear to ear, immediately went to hug Marianne, who looked slightly pouty but not enough to push him away. The young witch watched them for a moment, her stomach tightening as they kissed passionately, egged on by the crowd. She forced herself to look away, a bitter realisation settling in: Sirius hadn't hugged her as he usually did after a victory.
'I can't believe that after all the times I told him to stop touching me without permission, I actually miss it.' – the girl thought, her lips curling into a sad, self-mocking smile. Any desire to celebrate evaporated. She headed to the changing room, dragging out her shower to ensure she was the last one left.
When she finally stepped out, she glanced at the small, foggy mirror on the wall and sighed. She had been avoiding her reflection ever since Snape hexed off her hair, but recent events made it impossible to escape her insecurities. A quiet, nagging voice echoed in her mind: You're just too ugly for anyone to like you. The whole school had been abuzz with rumours that Sirius Black only had eyes for her, and yet now, he seemed utterly obsessed with being as close to Marianne as possible.
Catherine had always dismissed Sirius's flirtations as nothing more than a playful quirk of their friendship, but somewhere along the line, she'd started to believe that maybe he fancied her. His attention had been an incredible boost to her confidence. Now, though, it was gone, and the Slytherins had wasted no time mocking her about it. That didn't sting as much as the truth of it: she wasn't the one Sirius wanted.
The young witch swallowed the lump in her throat as she faced the reality she had been trying to ignore. She was jealous of Marianne. She missed Sirius's attention, the way he used to be around her. But compared to Marianne, Catherine felt like she didn't even measure up. Her gaze dropped to her own reflection, to the thin, childlike frame staring back at her. She had grown painfully aware of how much weight she'd lost, her figure devoid of anything remotely "womanly." Even the sports bra she'd bought seemed pointless; there was nothing to fill it out.
'I don't even have my period yet.' - she thought in despair, hurriedly pulling on her clothes, desperate to cover up - 'Maybe Sirius always saw me as a sister. Or maybe he liked me back in our first years, but now… he's outgrown me.'
Feeling utterly depressed, Catherine left the changing room, her feet dragging as she made her way back to the castle. But halfway there, she stopped, the thought of facing her teammates and their celebrations too unbearable. With a heavy sigh, she turned away from the path, wandering down to the quiet shore of the Black Lake. She sat on the cool, damp grass, staring blankly at the dark waters. Tears slipped down her cheeks, and she brushed them away impatiently, though they kept falling as she sank deeper into her thoughts.
Quite some time had passed when Catherine felt a hand on her shoulder. She lifted her head to find James standing over her, concern etched on his face.
"Have you been crying?" – he asked, softly, his hand brushing against her cheek – "Merlin! Your skin is ice-cold! How long have you been sitting out here?"
"I don't know." – the girl shrugged – "I came right after the match."
"It's not like you missed anything." – James muttered, forcing a bitter smile – "Same party as always, except now it's just an excuse for people to shove their relationships in your face."
"Hence why you're here." – Catherine said, a knowing smile playing on her lips.
"No!" - James replied, blushing slightly - "I'm here because I was worried about you—and I figured you wouldn't want to be around certain… displays."
"So you came here to support me and distract yourself from certain other displays?" – the girl teased, raising an eyebrow.
"Alright, fine!" - he admitted, letting out a huff - "I'm angry, and I don't want to snap and make Lily think I'm as bad as Snape. But it's not easy. I was honestly hoping to find someone to hex on my way here, but no luck. Hey! You know what? How about a duel? I bet you could use a way to blow off some steam too." "I don't know, James." – Catherine sighed, rubbing her temples – "I've been really tired lately. It's probably not the best idea."
"Oh, come on!" – the boy urged, flashing her a mischievous grin – "You're stronger than half the people at Hogwarts, even if you're half-asleep. I really need this, Flame!"
With a groan of frustration, Catherine pushed herself to her feet, her legs heavy and stiff from sitting on the cold ground for so long. "Fine." - she muttered, shooting him an exasperated look.
James beamed, leading the way to their usual duelling spot on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. It was isolated, spacious, and flat enough that they didn't have to worry about tripping over stray roots or uneven ground. The air around them was crisp and quiet, the faint rustling of leaves the only sound.
The sun had dipped low over the treetops, casting long shadows across the clearing. James and Catherine stood a few paces apart, their wands raised.
James moved first. With a flourish of his wand, he shouted, "Expelliarmus!" The spell zipped through the air, crimson and crackling, but Catherine was ready. She twisted to the side, her own wand a blur as she cast a shield charm. The spell rebounded harmlessly off her shield, leaving the dead grass behind her singed and soldering.
"Is that all you've got?" - she taunted, her voice steady despite the beads of sweat forming on her forehead. Her classmate grinned back, eyes alight with the thrill of the duel.
"You wish!" - he replied, flicking his wand in a rapid sequence - "Stupefy! Stupefy!" Red bolts burst forth, zigzagging towards Catherine. She ducked and spun, her own wand a whirl of motion as she sent a barrage of spells in response.
"Protego Maxima!" - she cried, her shield expanding in a shimmering arc. It deflected his spells, sending flashes of light erupting across the clearing like fireworks.
The duel grew more intense with each passing second. James was agile, his movements fluid as he weaved between spells, sending hexes and jinxes Catherine's way in quick succession. The young witch, however, was feeling the strain. Her breathing grew more ragged with every passing minute.
"Diffindo!" – the girl shouted, aiming to disarm her classmate. The spell sliced through the air, narrowly missing him as he dove to the side, rolling back onto his feet.
"Nice try!" - he called, his own wand rising for another spell, but then he paused, eyes narrowing. He saw it: a brief tremble in Catherine's wand arm, the slightest stumble in her stance. She was tiring, but still refused to back down. Gritting her teeth, the witch raised her wand again, summoning her energy for a final offensive. But in that moment, James struck.
"Petrificus Totalus!" - he bellowed, his wand carving a sharp arc through the air. Catherine's eyes widened in shock as she moved to counter—but exhaustion betrayed her. The spell struck her squarely in the chest, knocking the wind out of her. Her vision blurred, and an icy numbness surged through her body. Her arms snapped to her sides, legs clamped together, and she toppled to the ground like a felled tree. A sickening thud followed as her head struck a stone hidden in the grass.
James' heart lurched, his breath catching as he watched her crumple, her wand slipping from her rigid fingers.
"Flame!" - he screamed, the duel forgotten. The wizard sprinted to his friend's side, dropping to his knees. Her eyes were closed, her breathing shallow and uneven. A trickle of blood stained her temple, stark against her pale skin.
"No, no, no!" - James muttered, his hands shaking as he fumbled for his wand. He had pushed her too hard; he should have noticed how tired she was. His mind raced as he tried to remember the right spell. "Rennervate!" - he cried, his voice cracking with fear.
A faint glow emanated from his wand, encircling Catherine's form, but she remained still, unconscious. Desperation gnawed at him as he repeated the spell, begging her to open her eyes. But nothing happened. The forest around them seemed to grow darker, colder, as if it too sensed the gravity of the situation.
"Please, Catherine..." - he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her face -"Wake up..."
The halls of Hogwarts at midnight were a labyrinth of shadows and whispers, filled with an eerie, almost oppressive silence. Pale moonlight had filtered through the tall, mullioned windows, casting twisted patterns across the worn stone floors. The portraits that lined the walls hung motionless; their occupants either asleep or lurking just beyond the canvas, eyes glinting with an unsettling awareness. Every sound seemed magnified, echoing off the towering ceilings. Tapestries fluttered faintly, stirred by drafts that wound through the castle's hidden passageways, while the flickering torchlight made the shadows dance, as though the very walls of the ancient school were alive and watching.
James Potter paused, heart pounding, ears straining for any sign of Filch or Mrs Norris. He cursed silently, wishing he had map with him. Sirius was nowhere to be found when James left, and he didn't know where his friend kept it. Even under the cover of the Invisibility Cloak, he could still be exposed if someone accidentally collided with him in the darkness.
Two more corridors. That was all he needed to cross to reach the Hospital Wing. But even as he pressed forward, his thoughts spiralled back to the bitter conversation with Remus hours earlier. After leaving Catherine in Madam Pomfrey's care, the boy had returned to the Gryffindor Tower, where the Quidditch victory celebration was still raging. He, however, had absolutely no desire to participate.
"What the hell were you thinking, James? – Remus shouted, his face tight with anger, his voice low, seething growl - "You knew she was exhausted, but you pushed her into that duel anyway?!"
James opened his mouth to speak, his usual bravado faltering. "I didn't force her. She wanted to—"
"She wanted to?" – the other wizard cut him off - "Of course she did! She never backs down from a challenge, especially not with you! But it's your responsibility to know when enough is enough! You saw how tired she was all week. She could barely hold her wand by the end!"
James ran a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling up inside him. "I made a mistake, alright? It got out of hand, but—"
"Stop talking to me like I'm Sirius!" - Remus snapped, his voice cold and harsh - "I'm not going to stand here and pretend that everything's fine just because you want it to be. You can ignore me, shut me out like he did, but I'm not going to keep silent, James. I won't let you get away with this, especially not when it comes to Catherine."
Silence settled between them, heavy and charged. James felt the sting of Remus's words, each one piercing deeper than the last. For once, he had nothing to say. He looked away, swallowing hard against the knot in his throat.
"You're right." - he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper - "You're right, Moony. I should have stopped. I should have seen the signs. I…I messed up because I was selfish. I'll apologise and do better in the future! I'll also talk to Sirius."
"There's no need for that." – Moony declined firmly – "He's the one in the wrong, acting so entitled. If he can't see his own mistakes, I can't force him to. Maybe I just need to accept I've lost one friend. But I can't accept losing a second because of your recklessness."
James sighed, feeling anxiety gnaw at him, making it impossible to stand still. "Madam Pomfrey said she'll be alright, but she wants to keep her overnight for observation." - he muttered, running his hand through his hair again - "I can't just sit here, though. I need to move and clear my head."
The young wizard shook his head sharply, steeling himself as he slowly pushed open the door to the ward. The room was quiet, and the Matron was nowhere in sight, though he knew she could be nearby. He had to be careful—quiet and leave no traces. His eyes scanned the dimly lit space until they landed on Catherine, lying in a bed at the far end, near the window.
Moonlight streamed through the glass, casting an ethereal glow over her pale, hollow face. A thin sheen of sweat covered her brow, which was deeply furrowed, her eyes darting beneath closed lids as if chasing some unseen terror. Her breathing came in ragged, uneven gasps, punctuated by the occasional whimper that escaped her parted lips. Her hands gripped the blanket, knuckles white, while her body twisted and turned, as though struggling to escape the horrors in her mind.
James was struck by how pitiful and tortured his friend appeared. His gaze was entirely fixed on her, so much so that he didn't notice the sheets on every other bed, torn into shreds. He didn't know what to do, but he desperately wanted to stop Catherine's pain, no matter what it took. Gently, he took her hand, hoping to share some of the burden, even if it was a naïve thought. To his surprise, the young witch's features relaxed, and her breathing steadied, although she still looked sound asleep.
Uncertain about what he should do next, James sat down in a chair beside the girl's bed, still wrapped in his Invisibility Cloak. He held her hand firmly, unwilling to let go. Gradually, the tension drained from his own body, and he found his eyes growing heavy. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, but the next thing he knew, a voice was calling his name.
Jerked awake, the young wizard adjusted his glasses in confusion. Morning light now spilled into the room, and his cloak had slipped to the floor. Catherine was awake, her eyes locked on his with a mixture of amusement and tenderness.
"Did you spend the whole night here?" – she asked.
"I think I did." – James replied with a yawn – "I'm surprised Madame Pomfrey didn't throw me out."
"She hasn't been in yet." – Catherine informed him – "Since I'm the only one here, she probably thought I needed as much sleep as possible. Though, she didn't give me any Dreamless Sleep Potion."
"Yeah, you looked like you were having nightmares when I came in." – the boy said, finally letting go of her hand – "For some reason, holding your hand seemed to help."
"I see…" – the girl mumbled, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over her. Whether by coincidence or not, James had contributed to one of the rare peaceful nights of sleep she'd had.
"Flame… I'm so very sorry!" – the wizard blurted out, his sudden intensity catching her off guard.
"What for?" – she asked, her eyes widening in confusion.
"For hurting you during the duel!" – James confessed, his voice shaking – "And for pushing you to duel in the first place when I knew you were exhausted."
"There's no need to apologise." – Catherine said firmly – "You didn't force me to participate. I chose to do it, even though I knew I wasn't at my best. Did you stay the whole night because you felt guilty?"
"Yes… I mean no!" – the boy stammered, his ears turning red – "I came because I wanted to make sure you were alright."
"You didn't have to spend the night in that horribly uncomfortable chair for that." – Flame teased him with a smile – "What will your fangirls think when they see you now? Your hair is such a mess! It looks like you've got little prongs sticking out everywhere!"
"I don't care about fangirls, and I do not have prongs!" – the boy snapped, though there was a playful glint in his eyes – "I see your mouth is working just fine, so my biggest worry is over. I'd better go before Madam Pomfrey kicks me out. I'll wait for you in the Common Room."
Catherine watched with a smile as he vanished under the Invisibility Cloak. Her head still throbbed a little, but after a night of quality sleep, she felt refreshed and ready to return to the Gryffindor Tower.
'I didn't exactly expect the first night I spent with a boy to be in the Hospital Wing.' – she thought with amusement, searching around for her clothes.