"Yvette!" – a sweet child voice prompted Catherine to look away from the parchment she was writing on. She smiled at the chubby, blond three-year-old beaming up at her, his big blue eyes wide with adoration, and lips still sticky with honey from the cake he had just eaten.
"Fyeh puppit?" - he babbled.
"Don't you ever get tired of this, Davey?" – the fifteen-year-old asked, but nevertheless, she opened her palm, and a little salamander made of flames began crawling playfully, causing the toddler to erupt in cheers.
Warmth spread through Catherine's chest as the fire curled around her fingers, different from the intense, frightening heat she usually conjured. It was soft and comforting.
"How many times have I told you not to play with elemental magic?!" – the sharp voice of Duchess Muire McMahon cut through the moment, startling the children.
"I apologise, mother." – Yvette replied quickly, closing her fist. The salamander vanished in a puff of smoke, and her eyes, that had been gleaming in red, returned to their usual brown.
"I know you have remarkable control over true fire, but I still feel uneasy when you use it around Davey." – the older witch explained, lifting Davey into her arms as he whined over the loss of his fiery playmate – "In any case, I'll feel much better after your birthday."
"It's three months away." – the girl shrugged – "Besides, I don't see what's going to change so dramatically."
"Once your magic stabilises, we can think about you taking your place as a member of House McMahon." – the woman remarked with determination – "Plus, there will be plenty of marriage proposals as well."
"Marriage?" – Yvette exclaimed, clearly caught off guard – "I don't think this is really something I'm interested in. I certainly never thought about it."
"As a woman, it's part of your duty." – the Duchess said, her tone matter-of-fact – "We shall see which branch family of a major House would be most suitable. I'd assume, since you're a female Fire Mage, House Whiters will be very interested. They may even want to ask the Council for permission for marriage between the main families."
"So, you're telling me I'll finally be free from being a prisoner at home, only to be confined to Blazewood Manor, churning out children until I've produced enough Fire Mages to satisfy them?" – the young witch asked, her tone completely even.
"What an awful attitude you have!" – Muire snapped, her face flushed with anger – "It's a miracle you're even alive! I've shed countless tears over the years, thinking I'd never see you grow up, let alone plan your wedding or hold your children! How can you be so selfish?"
"It's hardly a miracle." – the girl replied icily – "I've fought every moment to survive. It was my own efforts that got me here. My Occlumency shields keep the demon at bay and prevent the leaking magic from consuming me. I won't throw away everything I've worked for just to marry someone I don't know and I'll never love."
Without another word, Yvette stood and left. She wandered the empty halls of McMahon Castle, her restlessness making it impossible to return to her room. She wished her father were there—he always knew how to make her feel better. But the Duke was away, not expected back for another week.
An hour later, lying in the darkness of her room, the young witch tried to clear her mind to reinforce her shields before sleep. It was an exercise she'd first practiced with her father when she was eight, when the nightmares began. They were so terrible she had dreaded sleep, but with Eoin McMahon's love and support, she had managed to block almost all of the bad dreams—except for those about the previous vessels. They still haunted her.
'They say my Occlumency skills rival Slytherin's himself, yet I still can't block her completely.' - the girl thought, irritation bubbling up, fuelled by the earlier argument with her mother.
The next thing she knew, the witch was dreaming, yet unable to shake how real it felt. She found herself pinned to the bed by a large man with red hair, his face hidden. Yvette tried to scream, but the sound was muffled as his mouth crushed against hers.
"My beautiful wife!" – he growled, tearing off the blue robe she was wearing.
"No!" – she screamed, trying to use true fire but without any success. Her desperation and distress were growing with each second, as the man's hands grabbed her thighs and forcefully spread them open.
'Do you want your power back, little girl?' – a mocking voice rang in her head – 'All you have to do is reach out for me. You can't rely on anyone but yourself! So strong and yet chained up… such a pity…'
Sharp panic rose in Yvette's blurry mind as she felt the man's huge, scorching hot shaft pressed against her most intimate area. Her whole being cried out in fear and betrayal. She reached out, and this time a torrent of fire erupted from her fingers, making the man vanish as if he had never been there.
The young witch realised she was sitting in her own bed, alone in her bedroom. However, the fire she had used was real, evidenced by the blanket still burning on the floor. Yvette quickly jumped to her feet, trying to use her power to extinguish the flames.
Catherine almost choked on the acrid, cloying scent of Fiendfyre that lingered, her ancestor's agony flooding her senses as she sank to her knees, overwhelmed by pain and nausea.
"No…" – Yvette whispered, her voice trembling with desperation – "Not now… no…"
She fought to build her Occlumency shields, but they crumbled instantly, like sandcastles washed away by an unrelenting tide.
"I have to leave now!" – the girl muttered, struggling to her feet – "I need to get as far from Davey as possible."
The scenery shifted, and Catherine found herself amid the ruins of a village or small town. The silence was eerie, broken only by the crackle of fires lazily consuming the remains of the buildings. Yvette, or what was left of her, lay among countless burnt bodies. Beside her knelt a man, his hand still gripping the handle of the Skyfall Athame, tears silently streaking down his face.
"Stand up, Your Grace!" – a tall, bulky man with fiery red hair and a beard commanded, his gaze scanning the devastation with grim sobriety – "I never imagined I'd witness such destruction. Perhaps it's due to the vessel's initial inclination, but it still reeks of Fiendfyre here. What an unimaginable power."
"Her name was Yvette." – Eoin whispered, finally tearing his eyes from his daughter's lifeless form – "She was not just a vessel but a smart, clever and compassionate young woman."
"As were many of those she killed." – Marquise Fintan Whiters replied coldly, running a massive hand through his red hair – "I'm sorry, but we've lost too many—muggles, wizards, even members of the main families. Duchess Prince might not survive. I know this sounds harsh, Eoin, but this cannot continue. We cannot endure such a catastrophe every time a girl is born into your family. House Whiters will demand drastic measures."
The Duke said nothing, his eyes drifting back to Yvette's body. Just two weeks ago, they had been planning her future. They were so proud of her for keeping the demon at bay for fifteen years. She'd nearly succeeded. What had gone wrong in the end?
'Is it all hopeless?' – he thought, fighting back his tears – 'Should we accept House Redmond's heartless proposition? It isn't fair to sacrifice so many lives for our daughters if there's no way for them to resist the demon.'
Catherine paused before the door to Dumbledore's office, taking a deep breath. She closed her eyes briefly, steeling herself before finally knocking. The door opened with a soft creak, and she stepped inside, taking her usual seat—bracing for the reprimand she knew was coming.
In the days since the incident, the girl had realised just how foolish she had been. She hadn't intended to put her family in danger, but that was exactly what she'd done. Worse still, she had forced Greg into a position where he had to risk himself to protect her. Compared to that, Carter Thorne's detention seemed almost inconsequential. What truly troubled her now was how the Headmaster would react to her using true fire against her own brother.
She gathered her courage and looked up, only to find the older wizard watching her with a small, enigmatic smile. Catherine felt her face flush instantly. Once again, she was caught off-guard by Dumbledore's behaviour, and she hated the feeling of being at a disadvantage.
"Are you going to scold me already?" – she asked, her voice sharper than she intended.
The Headmaster's eyes twinkled. "Do you feel you need to be scolded?" - he replied politely - "I've always thought scolding students was rather counterproductive. I'm much more interested in understanding why you chose to go to Hogsmeade when the fourth-years weren't scheduled for a visit that weekend. And, perhaps even more intriguingly, how you managed to get there unnoticed."
Catherine hesitated but then sighed. "I used the passage behind the big mirror on the fourth floor." – the young witch admitted - "It leads to the graveyard in Hogsmeade. As for why… I had a lot on my mind, and I just wanted to escape for a bit. I never meant to run into Adrian Borealis. That wasn't on purpose."
Dumbledore nodded, his expression softening. "I'm sure it wasn't." - he said, bowing his head slightly - "Sometimes fate seems to play rather cruel tricks on us. However, I am more concerned about your use of true fire against your brother."
The girl shifted uncomfortably, her gaze dropping. "He used elemental magic first." - she mumbled - "I used true fire to defend myself—it just happened, instinctively. I… I would never hurt Greg on purpose. Especially after…"
The wizard leaned forward slightly, his voice gentle. "After that time when you were both young?"
Catherine swallowed hard, her hands beginning to tremble. "Yes." - she whispered - "I know I messed up. I'll apologise to Greg, and I know Thorne will make me pay during detention. Can we just move on now?"
"Professor Thorne, my dear." – the Headmaster corrected her gently - "I'm not here to torment you for your mistakes. But I do need to understand where all this anger comes from. If left unchecked, it could become dangerous—especially during your training."
"Why are you talking to me like I'm some kind of raging maniac... Sir?" – the girl frowned – "As I explained, I wasn't even angry at my brother."
"What about your father?" – Dumbledore suddenly shifted the topic.
"My father?" – Catherine blinked, taken aback – "What does he have to do with any of this?"
"He mentioned that you had a rather significant breakdown during the Christmas holidays, and again when you encountered him after curfew a few weeks ago." – the Headmaster remarked, seemingly oblivious to the shock in the Gryffindor's eyes.
"I can't believe he came to you to complain about that!"- she snapped.
"No, my dear, he came because he was concerned." - Dumbledore explained calmly - "He wanted us to discuss how best to protect you, considering your tendency to break rules and wander off. As a matter of fact, he left this letter with me. I believe you'd want to read it."
Catherine snatched the envelope, tearing it open. She scanned the contents, her expression growing grim. Without hesitation, she stood and tossed the letter into the fireplace.
"And you ask me why I'm angry." – she muttered bitterly – "Two pages lecturing me about my duty as a McMahon and all the sacrifices made for my sake. Not a single word of apology for coming here every week and never once seeing me."
"So that's what's bothering you." – Dumbledore said thoughtfully.
"Wasn't it obvious?" – the girl snapped – "What kind of father does that?! This is Hogwarts! There were plenty of places we could have met. He just hates being around me, or maybe he's afraid... I don't know, and honestly, I don't care anymore."
"Yet you're still yelling." – the Headmaster noted with a gentle smile – "I think you need to have a real conversation with your father. I can't tell you how to feel about your relationship with him, but I can tell you this: he loves you deeply. In getting to know him, I've seen that you share many traits—especially the tendency to take charge for the sake of your loved ones, regardless of what they think. Isn't that something you've done yourself, on occasion?"
Catherine couldn't find a suitable response and decided to remain silent—not only because her Master of Fire was right, but also because she didn't want to risk exposing some of the measures she had most recently taken for her friends, measures she was certain he would strongly disapprove of.
"I had another dream two days ago." – the black-haired girl said, suddenly changing the topic – "Apparently, I fell asleep in the Common Room. Thankfully, I managed to repair most of the damage before anyone noticed. By the time I woke up, there were torn books everywhere."
Dumbledore listened intently as Catherine gave a detailed report on Yvette McMahon and her fate, his fingers steepled, eyes fixed on the ceiling. When she finished, the Headmaster appeared deep in thought.
"So, I suppose even if I learn Occlumency, it still might not be safe." – the girl sighed, trying to sound casual about the troubling realisation, but failing to mask her concern.
"Perhaps not—but that's assuming Occlumency was the key all along." – Dumbledore said cryptically.
"What do you mean?" – the fourth-year asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.
"While Occlumency is certainly useful for suppressing nightmares, it may not be the only factor that kept the demon at bay for so long." – the wizard mused – "From what you've told me, Yvette was a Salamander-type Fire Mage."
"How do you know she was a Salamander-type?" – the young witch asked with curiosity.
"The 'puppet' she used to entertain her little brother—it's a basic exercise for those who have full access to their elemental power." – Dumbledore explained. His eyes began to glow a deep red, and a life-sized phoenix made of true fire appeared, perched on his shoulder – "It's like an avatar you can use for different purposes—quite handy at times."
"So, you think Yvette managed to survive as long as she did because she was a Fire Mage?" – Catherine asked, her eyes widening as she watched the fiery phoenix take flight around the room before vanishing.
"I suspect so, yes." – Dumbledore nodded – "Perhaps it was a combination of Occlumency and her elemental abilities, but I believe access to true fire played a significant role in your ancestor's longevity."
"But in the end, she still failed." – the young witch said, her voice heavy with disappointment.
"I wouldn't say she failed." - Dumbledore corrected gently - "She was deceived by Alecto. If anything, this dream serves as a reminder of how quickly desperation can allow the demon to gain the upper hand, even after years of successful resistance."
"So, you're telling me not to be desperate?" – the girl asked with a smirk.
"In a way." – the wizard replied smiling – "But I believe you don't need me to tell you that. You've never been desperate—not even when you were a frightened, friendless girl who feared she might hurt everyone around her if she came to Hogwarts."
Catherine blushed slightly, recalling her first meeting with Dumbledore and how hostile she had been toward him.
"I guess I haven't." – she agreed frowning – "I've always been angry about my fate, but I wouldn't call it desperation. I just wanted to be free, and I was impatient."
"I understand, my dear girl." – the Headmaster said tenderly – "You've always shown incredible resilience. I only want to be sure that if you ever feel overwhelmed or pushed closer to the edge, you will share it with me. You don't have to face this alone—there are many people who would gladly support you."
"I will, Professor." – Catherine promised sincerely, adding with a bitter smile – "Contrary to popular belief, I'd choose to sacrifice my pride in a heartbeat if it meant staying sane and in control of my body and soul."
"There's always a choice." – Dumbledore smiled at his student's doubtful expression – "Even Yvette had a choice in the end. She chose to leave and save her little brother."
"I understand how she felt." – the girl stated calmly – "In fact, after that incident with Greg—when I saw him screaming in pain because of me—I thought about running away from home for a long time."
"Your brother forgave you a long time ago." – the wizard remarked – "Perhaps it's time you did the same. You can't keep living with that guilt."
"I know it wasn't intentional, and I was young, but I still feel horrible." – Catherine admitted, staring at her hands – "Although learning healing magic has helped a little."
Suddenly, with a sharp crack, Fawkes appeared in a burst of flames, interrupting their conversation. The phoenix perched on his owner's shoulder, handing him a roll of parchment from its beak. Dumbledore took it and quickly unrolled it, scanning the contents. His blue eyes widened in disbelief behind his half-moon glasses as he glanced at Catherine a few times.
"Something's wrong, Sir?" – the girl asked, impatience creeping into her voice.
"No, nothing's wrong." - the Headmaster said, gesturing towards the parchment - "But I believe we may have just discovered why your eyes glow green instead of red. You might remember I mentioned that I keep in touch with my Master of Fire's son."
"I do remember you mentioned it, but I was under the assumption he was not a Fire Mage." – the young witch said, her confusion evident.
"He's not, but I contacted him because he's married to the only other female Fire Mage I know." – Dumbledore replied, smiling at Catherine's astonished expression – "I've never met her in person, but we've corresponded over the years. She's a Salamander-type, with remarkable control over true fire."
"So that woman knows why my eyes glow green?" – the fourth-year asked impatiently.
"Indeed." – the Headmaster nodded – "According to her, it indicates the rare healing ability that some Fire Mages possess."
"Like the control over living beings that Slytherin and certain Water Mages have?" – Catherine inquired, her eyes widening with disbelief.
"Exactly." – Dumbledore confirmed – "Control over light and darkness by Air Mages, and powers over plants by Earth Mages, fall into the same category of rare talents."
"Does that mean I can heal people with true fire?" – the black-haired girl asked tentatively.
"In a way, yes, but only after rigorous training." – the wizard explained – "I've never witnessed it myself, but in theory, you should be able to use tiny particles of true fire and guide them through the body to destroy whatever is causing illness. The level of control needed for that, however, is beyond anything I can teach."
"Wait! Then you can't train me?!" – the witch suddenly realised the problem.
"No, I can't." – the Headmaster admitted – "But there's no need to worry. Elena suggested that once you've advanced enough, you could spend some time with her in Bulgaria. She'll teach you what you need to know about this ability."
"Bulgaria, you say…" – Catherine repeated contemplatively.
"Yes." – Dumbledore smiled knowingly – "It will also be an opportunity to learn more about Alecto, especially since the Grimoire where I first found information about her originated there. Once you reach the necessary level of control over true fire, I will arrange for you to visit Elena and her family."
The young witch felt a surge of excitement at the prospect of traveling abroad and learning a rare ability, even for a Fire Mage. She put extra effort into her lessons that day, eager to prove to her Master of Fire that she was ready to learn as quickly as possible.
'It's strange how my life keeps becoming more intertwined with true fire.' – she thought on her way back to the Gryffindor Tower – 'At least I don't feel sick right now. I would much rather suffer in the comfort of my own bed.'
But the sickness did not return.
For several days, Catherine anxiously waited for the all-too-familiar symptoms to come back. But to her surprise, the dizziness, weakness, and nausea vanished completely. Despite her lack of sleep, she felt so much better that she couldn't help but smile constantly—a reaction that puzzled many of the students around her.
"I'm really glad you're no longer sick, Flame!" – Peter said sincerely as they sat together for lunch in the Great Hall.
"Thanks, Peter." – the girl smiled warmly – "I owe a lot to your mom. Her remedy was a lifesaver!"
"You certainly look more energetic." – James observed, casting her an appraising look.
"Honestly, I had forgotten what being fine even feels like." – the witch admitted with a wry smile – "Now, if only I could figure out how to soothe these nightmares, things would be perfect. Dumbledore thinks Occlumency might help. And since I'm no longer sick from using Elemental magic, he's going to start teaching me. I can't wait!"
Catherine had written to Dumbledore the moment she realised her recovery wasn't just a coincidence and that her body had adjusted to Elemental magic. Though she hadn't received a reply yet, she felt certain that their next lesson would finally dive into Occlumency. Determined to get a head start, she decided to stay at Hogwarts over the Easter break. Nearly all her classmates were heading home, except for Lily, whose family was visiting relatives in Ireland, and Remus, who had mentioned he preferred Hogwarts during that time of year. This quiet holiday was something Catherine welcomed—no more running into Sirius and Marianne snogging at every corner.
"You should come spend Easter with us if you don't want to go home." – James suggested as they walked back to the Common Room after their usual morning jog – "Sirius won't be there."
"Thanks, but my parents would lose it if I asked to visit you again so soon." – the young witch chuckled, though the smile didn't quite reach her eyes – "They won't mind me staying for school, though. Plus, I really want to start learning Occlumency as soon as I can."
"I just don't get it—why are your nightmares so persistent?" – the boy sighed, running a hand through his hair – "Do you think it could be a curse?"
"I doubt it, but I can ask Thorne during detention next week." – Catherine scoffed – "He'd love the idea of me being cursed, considering how much he hates me."
James shook his head, clearly frustrated. "I still can't believe you landed a whole month of detention just for sneaking off to Hogsmeade! That was definitely not worth it just to pretend you had a date. What do you think Thorne will make you do?"
Catherine shrugged, choosing to omit the last remark, but her expression became visibly darker. "Who knows? The guy probably thinks he caught the flu from me too. I'm expecting anything—from scrubbing every toilet in the castle with a toothbrush to being fed to a manticore."
"Poor manticore!" – James laughed – "It's going to starve if it relies on you as dinner."
"Sod off!" – Catherine punched him on the arm, though it was only her fist that ended up hurting, judging by the boy's chuckle – "Come on, let's check that potion before breakfast."
James agreed, and after a quick shower and a change into their school uniforms, the two Gryffindors made a brief detour to the Room of Requirement on their way to the Great Hall. The potion in the cauldron had turned a deep, almost midnight blue, with flecks of shimmering silver swirling within, like tiny stars suspended in its depths. Occasionally, flashes of emerald green and amber flickered across the surface of the thick, syrupy liquid. The room was filled with a rich, earthy, herbal scent.
"It's ready." – the girl whispered in awe, leaning over the cauldron. Her eyes sparkled with excitement, and her heart swelled with pride—she had actually brewed something as advanced as the Animagi potion.
"Are you sure?" – James asked, disbelief etched on his face.
"Absolutely positive!" – his friend grinned – "Now all we need is a thunderstorm. We put the Mandrake leaves in and drink it while reciting the incantation."
"Sounds easy enough." – the wizard smiled in his turn, the thrill of the forbidden adventure finally setting in – "Can't we just use magic to cause a storm?"
"Better not risk it." – Catherine replied thoughtfully – "Transfiguration this complicated can be affected by the smallest thing. And residual magic from Weather-Modifying Charms could mess with the potion. Let's just wait. It's spring, after all—storms in Scotland are always just around the corner."
To their utter disappointment, the weather for the entire week remained stubbornly clear and sunny. Carter Thorne recovered from his illness and wasted no time informing Catherine that her first detention would be on Friday evening.
The girl was particularly displeased. Not only did she have to endure Thorne during Defence Against the Dark Arts class that morning, but she would also have to face him again later. To make matters worse, it was James' birthday, and instead of celebrating with cake and friends, she'd be stuck with the snarky, sarcastic professor she suspected might be a spy.
Her day started off badly when she opened the Daily Prophet to find a gruesome story splashed across the front page. A group of wizards had apparently tortured a Muggle-born wizard into insanity, leaving him in such a state that the Healers at St. Mungo's refused to give a prognosis. The details were murky, but it was clear the man had been found alone, in his home in the countryside. Catherine stared at the accompanying photograph of hooded figures— the so-called Death Eaters. Something about their cold, menacing stance turned her stomach. She had heard of them before, but this was different. Seeing their presence in stark black and white made the threat feel disturbingly real.
During their DADA class, the young witch was only vaguely paying attention. Her mind snapped back to the present when she heard Professor Thorne mention Azkaban. Naturally, the fourth-year had heard about the prison before, but she had never given much thought to either the fortress or its inhabitants—the Dementors, which were the topic of today's lesson.
'That's where they'll eventually send those monsters.' – the girl thought darkly, her mind still fixed on the article in the Daily Prophet. The image of the hooded Death Eaters gnawed at her thoughts.
"Dementors do have a chilling effect on humans, draining them of hope and happiness with every moment they linger nearby. Their presence brings an unbearable coldness, not just in the physical sense but also a deep, bone-aching emptiness." – Professor Thorne explained, showing the class images of the dark creatures - "For prisoners in Azkaban, this effect is amplified tenfold."
"It's not enough." – Catherine muttered under her breath, not realising she had spoken aloud.
"Not enough?" – the DADA teacher's eyebrow arched as he looked toward her – "Miss Plantier, what made you so bloodthirsty this early in the morning?"
The black-haired girl met his gaze steadily, a flicker of defiance in her eyes. "I'm not bloodthirsty, sir." - she said, her tone measured and collected - "But there are certain crimes that deserve more than just sitting in a cell, feeling miserable. Take the aristocrats, for instance, the Council punishes only the gravest offenses, but the consequences are either disownment or death."
The Professor's face turned pale, and he couldn't hide the nervous tic that appeared on his cheek as he stared at Catherine in disbelief. The young witch felt a surge of satisfaction at having made him uncomfortable, though she wasn't entirely sure why he had reacted so strongly. It took her several seconds to realise that what she had just said might not have been common knowledge, judging by her classmates' surprised expressions.
"Or so I've heard…" – the girl added, attempting to sound nonchalant.
Carter Thorne cleared his throat, silencing the murmurs in the room. "I can't confirm whether that's true, Miss Plantier, so I suggest you refrain from spreading rumours." – he said with a smirk, his tone dripping with condescension – "However, even if what you claim were accurate, it pales compared to spending your life in Azkaban. Imagine what it feels like to be stripped of any comfort or joyful memory, left to relive your worst experiences, every ounce of light and warmth being sucked from your soul. Most prisoners lose their will to live, trapped in a cycle of reliving their fears and regrets until they are left as empty shells of who they once were. Even the strongest minds find it nearly impossible to withstand the relentless presence of the Dementors, as the relentless psychological torment eats away at their very being. Even hope itself dies on this island."
Catherine swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking in. She hadn't considered the full horror of Azkaban before. The memory of the Boggart in Honeydukes' cellar flashed before her eyes—the tall, hooded figure and the crushing despair that accompanied it. Back then, adrenaline and determination to save her friends had driven her forward, but now the image felt disturbingly vivid. She glanced at Sirius anxiously, but he didn't seem affected, grinning at her when their eyes met.
"Don't forget your detention with me this evening, Miss Plantier." – the DADA teacher reminded her after class as the Gryffindors gathered their things to head for lunch – "Eight o'clock sharp."
As soon as they were out of earshot, Catherine hissed. "I can't stand him!" Her entire afternoon felt ruined by the perspective of spending hours alone with Carter Thorne. The only thing worse, she thought bitterly, would be sharing detention with Snape.
When the girl arrived at Thorne's office that evening, she seriously questioned whether she could endure the entire ordeal without losing her cool. Her patience with the DADA professor, who she had long suspected of being a spy for one of the other Houses, was wearing thin.
The young witch stood in the corridor until exactly eight o'clock, then knocked on the door and entered without waiting for an invitation.
"You have rather peculiar manners, Miss Plantier." – Carter Thorne remarked, barely looking up from the essays he was grading. His auburn hair, perfectly styled as always, glowed like molten copper under the candlelight.
"I figured since you were expecting me, there was no need for formalities." – Catherine replied coldly. She felt extremely uncomfortable being alone with her teacher. Ever since she had seen him with McGonagall, the fourth-year couldn't look at him without feeling embarrassed.
"Well, at least you got that part right." – the wizard sneered mockingly – "Let's not waste any more of your detention time. I want you to clean my office—top to bottom—without using magic. I'm very particular about hygiene, so you can be sure I'll hold you to a high standard."
Catherine clenched her jaw, the irritation bubbling up. Cleaning as punishment wasn't new to her, but the thought of being used to tidy Thorne's personal space felt particularly demeaning. And he wasn't joking about his standards; at one point, he pointed out a small smudge on his coffee table that she had missed, forcing her to clean the entire thing again.
After two and a half hours, the young witch was sweaty, her knees aching from scrubbing the stone hearth for the past forty minutes. Frustration burned in her chest, each breath coming out shaky as she tried to keep her composure. She glanced at Thorne, who continued grading his papers as if she weren't there.
"Make sure you don't touch anything when leaving." – the wizard's voice startled her – "You did a decent job so far, but you're a bit messy. There's soot all over your face and clothes."
Catherine's green eyes blazed with anger as she imagined wiping her filthy hands thoroughly on Thorne's expensive-looking blue robes.
"Next week, same time." – the teacher said, pretending not to notice her hateful expression – "I hope you know how to sew—I have a few items I need you to repair for me."
"Don't you have access to house-elves, or are you just some kind of pervert who enjoys watching young girls serve him?" – Catherine snapped, her voice laced with defiance. The words slipped out before she could think better of them.
In a blink of an eye, she was lifted high into the air, her entire body immobilised by swirling air currents. Professor Thorne was no longer behind his desk; he now stood in the centre of the room, looking at her with an arrogant smirk. His eyes gleamed in silver, their cold light giving his face a harsher, almost cruel expression.
The fourth-year loved flying, but being completely restrained and floating helplessly was terrifying—especially when she was at Carter Thorne's mercy. She managed to send a stream of flames toward the DADA Professor, but he didn't even flinch. A gust of wind dispersed the fire and extinguished it in seconds. The girl felt overwhelmed, as though all the air in her lungs was being forced out. At the same time, her senses dulled—no sound, no smell, no sight—just a hollow emptiness.
Unexpectedly, the wind disappeared, along with the strange sensation, and Catherine found herself pinned against one of the walls with magic. Thorne stood in front of her, his expression emotionless and unreadable.
For the first time, the young witch felt real fear toward her teacher. It hit her suddenly: this man was far more powerful and dangerous than she had ever imagined. She couldn't help but wonder, if he had so much magic power, why did he choose to be a puppet for the aristocrats?
"Why are you so weak?" – the wizard's harsh voice cut through her thoughts.
Catherine opened her mouth, anger boiling up, but no words came out. Her throat was dry as she watched in horror while Thorne closed the distance between them, stopping mere centimetres from her face. She could smell the scent of bergamot and green tea on him. His voice dropped to a low, throaty whisper, and her skin prickled as he spoke.
"Do you think you can survive against your enemies if you can't even free yourself from a simple wind bind? How disappointing, Miss Plantier. I expected much more from a Fire Mage. Perhaps you need to put more effort into your training. Hurry up and become stronger! Then, maybe one day, you might stand a chance against someone like me."
With that, the wizard turned away and returned to his desk. Catherine felt the pressure release, and she collapsed against the wall, struggling to catch her breath. She stared at the Professor, who seemed completely unfazed, before darting out the door without another word. She ran halfway to Gryffindor Tower before she finally stopped, panting, her heart pounding wildly.
'What the fuck is wrong with this guy?!' – she screamed internally, torn between anger and shame at her helplessness. A few hot tears of humiliation rolled down her cheeks – 'I need to pull myself together. I won't ruin James' birthday and make it all about me.'
She took a deep breath and forced a smile, trying to steady herself. Just as she was about to head back to the Common Room, a loud crack made her jump. She rushed to the nearest window, and her eyes widened as the darkness outside was split by a flash of blazing lightning, thunder rumbling moments later.
Catherine wasted no time. She sprinted towards the Room of Requirement to retrieve the potion—it seemed James was about to receive an unexpected birthday gift.
James Potter was quite sure this birthday was nowhere near his top five. Catherine was stuck serving detention with Thorne, Sirius was probably busy snogging Marianne in some broom closet, and here he was—stuck in the Gryffindor Common Room, trying (and failing) not to stare at Lily and Greg, who were cozily huddled in front of the fireplace laughing and chatting with a group of fifth-years, appearing perfectly happy.
"You might want to blink occasionally, you know." – Remus said, a smirk playing on his lips. James shot him an irritated glare.
"I thought I was cool." – he grumbled miserably – "How did I end up like this? No party, no girlfriend, and only half of my friends?"
"Flame should be back soon." – Peter said in a cheerful attempt to lift the mood– "Do you want me to get Nora? We can still throw you a party."
James scoffed, shaking his head. "Nah, it'd be forced at this point. Besides, I'm not expecting anything special..."
Before he could finish his sentence, the portrait hole swung open, and Catherine rushed in, her face flushed and hair slightly dishevelled, her green eyes blazing with excitement.
"Hurry up!" – she practically squeaked, her tone urgent. When the boys just stared at her, bewildered, she huffed impatiently – "Are you deaf? There's a thunderstorm outside!"
James' eyes widened, his gloom instantly replaced with enthusiasm. "Really?" - he sprang to his feet - "Now that's more like it! Let's go!"
"Where's Sirius?" – Catherine asked, scanning the room.
"Not here." - Peter replied, his face pale but his eyes gleaming at the prospect of the upcoming adventure.
"Thanks, Peter, I could gather that much." – the young witch snapped, her voice tinged with annoyance - "Honestly, why am I not surprised?"
"Don't worry, Flame." - James interjected quickly, trying to keep Catherine from getting too frustrated - "You and Peter head to the Astronomy Tower. I'll grab the Invisibility Cloak and find Sirius. He can't be far."
Catherine scoffed and stormed out of the Common Room, Peter trailing after her, while James dashed to the dormitory. He quickly rummaged through the chest at the foot of his bed, grabbed the Invisibility Cloak, and was about to leave when Remus appeared.
"I'm coming with you." – he announced flatly.
"You are?" – the other boy blinked in surprise – "I thought you wanted no part of this."
"I didn't." – Moony replied, his expression weary – "But you didn't listen and went ahead with that insane plan anyway. Now, I'm involved whether I like it or not. I'm coming to make sure you're alright. If you all drink the potion and something goes wrong, someone needs to be there to help."
"Nothing's going to go wrong." – James grinned, heading toward the door– "The potion's flawless. Flame knows what she's doing. But honestly, it'll be good to have you there with us."
"Not everyone feels that way." – Remus sighed – "I don't know what Sirius is trying to prove with his ridiculous behaviour, but I'm done apologising."
"He's just being stubborn." – the other boy said as they left the Common Room - "I think he's still upset that Flame chose you over him. And yeah, I know it's not like that, but he's so pissed, he can't see past his own jealousy."
"That's his problem." – Remus shrugged – "Instead of acting like a fool and groping Marianne every chance he gets, he could have just got his act together and asked Catherine out."
"I think he convinced himself she'd reject him straight away." - James said, a hint of sadness in his voice - "I'd have thought otherwise, but after that stunt he pulled in front of her, rejection is probably the most likely outcome now."
Taking a turn toward the stairs to the sixth floor, the two Gryffindors came face to face with the very person they were discussing.
"What are you doing here at this hour?" – Sirius exclaimed, surprised, his eyes narrowing slightly when he saw Remus.
"Looking for you, obviously!" – James snapped – "There's a thunderstorm outside, the potion's ready. It's time! Let's go! Flame and Peter are waiting on top of the Astronomy Tower."
"Does it have to be now?!" – Sirius yawned, giving Moony a sideways glance – "I'm tired, and it's your birthday. Isn't there some sort of party?"
"Stop beating around the bush and just say what you mean." - Remus said coldly, though hurt flickered in his amber eyes.
"I don't know what you're talking about." - Sirius shrugged stubbornly - "But, honestly, I'm not sure I'm still on board with this Animagus thing. It sounds risky, and we'll be in a heap of trouble if we get caught, not just with the school. Besides, he's survived without us so far—clearly our presence isn't vital."
"Are you fucking kidding me?" – James growled, his frustration etched on his face – "After everything we've done—figuring out how to be with Moony, gathering the ingredients, brewing the potion—you come up with this lame excuse?"
"It's not an excuse." – Sirius replied, taken aback by his best friend's anger – "I'm allowed to change my mind about something so dangerous, aren't I?"
"Do what you want!" - James snapped, his voice thick with disappointment - "But I hope you can handle the consequences of your actions. You're angry at Remus, but it's not his fault Catherine kissed him—it's yours! You never had the guts to tell her how you felt, and she's completely clueless about it. That's on you, not him. Moony has been your friend for years, and now you're refusing to support him because of your pride? I thought better of you, mate. Do we really mean so little to you? Make your choice, but I hope you can live with it once your anger fades."
With that, James turned his back on the stunned Sirius and dragged the equally surprised Remus along.
"You didn't need to do that. He's free to decide for himself." - Remus muttered as they climbed the stairs towards the top of the tower, the sound of the raging storm growing louder with each step.
"No one's arguing that." - James replied firmly - "But someone had to make him face reality. We've left him too long in an echo chamber of his own delusions. I believe he'll do the right thing."
They finally reached the top of the Astronomy Tower where Catherine and Peter were waiting by the door leading to the tower's peak. Four goblets lay at the young witch's feet, each already filled with the Animagi Potion, while she held four small wooden boxes.
"I put everyone's leaves in separate boxes." - she explained, noticing James' questioning look - "Ah, Moony, you came too! Where's Sirius?"
"Uh, he..." - James began, but he was interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. All eyes turned to see Sirius emerging from the shadows.
"About time." – Catherine snapped, thrusting the boxes at the boys.
"Careful, Flame, or you may turn into a wasp." - Sirius grinned, earning an eye-roll from the girl as she stepped outside into the pouring rain with her goblet.
"You changed your mind?" – James asked, a teasing glint in his eyes. Sirius didn't respond, heading straight for Remus instead. He placed a hand on the other boy's shoulder.
"I'm sorry, Moony." – Sirius apologised sincerely – "I know I've been a complete arse. But James is right. We've been friends since day one, and I…"
"It's alright, Sirius." – Remus interrupted, offering a small smile – "Let's just move on."
"I can't forget how I behaved." – the other wizard said, shaking his head – "But I promise, I'll make it up to you. The full moon's going to be the best time of your life from now on."
With renewed determination, Sirius dashed out into the rain, dropping the leaf from his box into the potion. The liquid hissed, silver sparks flickering across its surface.
"Are you all ready?" – Catherine shouted, her words muffled by the crashing thunder.
"Yes!" - the three boys shouted, while Remus stood a little apart, his face pale and etched with worry.
The four teenagers drained their goblets in one go. "Arcanum Anima!" - they yelled in unison, their voices merging with the roar of the storm. A bright flash of lightning tore across the night sky, illuminating the scene as Remus watched his friends almost simultaneously collapse to their knees, their bodies shaking violently.
Peter screamed, though the sound was swallowed by the thunder. Sirius' muscles were twitching uncontrollably as his hands twisted into paws. His shoulders cracked as they transformed into the powerful, compact frame of a large black dog, thick fur bursting everywhere.
James writhed on the ground, bones grinding and shifting beneath his skin. His arms stretched outward, fingers merging and hardening painfully into hooves. His face elongated, nose and mouth pushing forward into a stag's muzzle, coarse fur sprouting as antlers extended from his skull.
A few paces away, Peter convulsed as his body seemed to collapse in on itself, ribs tightening, spine compressing, and limbs shortening rapidly until he was crouched low to the ground. A wave of nausea hit him, and he retched as his face transformed into a pointed snout. His fingers and toes melded into tiny claws, and his nose twitched as new, overwhelming scents bombarded his senses.
Remus looked at his friends with a mix of awe and prickling anxiety. Another flash of lightning lit up the scene, and his eyes darted around, searching for Catherine. Finally, his gaze picked out the panther's velvety black fur, almost invisible against the dark night. The piercing jade-green eyes, with their slit pupils, unmistakably marked the creature as the young witch.
No more than thirty seconds had passed before the four Gryffindors reverted to their human forms, panting and groaning on the rain-soaked stone, the storm drenching them as they lay sprawled on the tower floor.
"Bloody hell! This feels awful!" – James groaned, adjusting his glasses – "Did we make it past the one-minute mark?"
"I don't think so, mate." – Sirius growled, trying to stand – "Now I get what they meant by feeling uncomfortable after an unsuccessful transformation. It's like my body parts didn't shift back to the right places. It hurts, damn it! Can we try again now? I don't want to stay like this until the next damn storm!"
Peter was still on the floor, crying and unable to lift his head. Catherine crawled over with some difficulty, trying to soothe him before answering Sirius.
"I don't think it's recommended." – she said, biting her lower lip in frustration – "We knew there was a good chance we wouldn't get it right on the first try. We just have to tough it out."
"Well, we can't back off now, because that would mean asking for help." – James remarked with a frown – "We'll get it next time. But honestly, how cool was I?! I never thought I'd turn into a stag! I felt so powerful for a moment there."
"Same here." – Sirius grinned – "Although, I wasn't sure if I was a dog or a wolf until I felt the urge to bark."
"I just wanted to hide somewhere." - Peter said, trying to smile through his tears.
"That's because you turned into a rat, Peter!" – James laughed – "But considering how much Flame hates rodents, your instincts were on point! By the way, didn't I predict you'd turn into a kitten?"
"You do realise I could eat you for dinner in animal form, don't you?" – Catherine smirked, helping Peter to his feet.
"You're welcome to try!" – James laughed – "These antlers aren't just for show."
"Yeah, animal or human, your hair's always a mess—sticking up everywhere." – the girl chuckled as she started heading back inside.
"It's not true!" – the young wizard protested – "It's called style, you know?"
"And what kind of style is that?" - Sirius laughed - "We might as well start calling you Prongs, mate."
"Oh, yeah?" – James shot back, mock-angrily – "And you look like that ghostly dog in Flame's book! What was its name? Padpaw?"
"Padfoot." – Catherine corrected as they carefully descended the tower's stairs.
"I've been called worse." – Sirius grinned as they once again found themselves in the dark, empty corridors – "How are we all going to fit under the cloak?"
"I think that Flame, Moony, and Peter should use it." - James suggested - "Catherine already has detention with Thorne, Remus was just here to support us, and Peter's the smallest. They'll be well-covered."
"Works for me." – Sirius said, throwing the cloak over Catherine's annoyed face.
By some miracle, they reached the Gryffindor Tower without encountering anyone, which was fortunate considering the wet trail they'd left behind.
"Finally." – Catherine sighed, taking off the cloak and handing it to James – "I can't wait to change my clothes. Thunderclap."
The portrait swung forward, allowing the group to quietly enter the seemingly empty Common Room, faintly illuminated by the embers in the fireplace.
"Where have you all been, sneaking around after curfew again?" - Greg McMahon's angry voice suddenly cut through the silence, stopping the fourth-years in their tracks.
"What's wrong with you, sitting alone in the dark like some kind of vampire?" – James shot back, his disdain for the Prefect clear on his face.
"This is not something, I plan on discussing with you." - Greg snapped, his eyes narrowing as he took in their drenched appearance - "Have you been outside again? Perhaps, sneaking into Hogsmeade? I thought Professor Thorne had already taught you how wrong this was."
Catherine's face flushed as she remembered her last encounter with the DADA teacher, but guilt kept her silent, and she decided to stoically endure her brother's scolding without saying a word.
"You really can't help being a prat, can you?" – Sirius said mockingly – "Have you ever broken a single rule in your life? You're so boring, even Binns would look lively next to you."
"You don't know anything about me, Black." – the fifth-year hissed, his blue eyes flashing with anger – "This is your final warning—not to test my patience. My family doesn't take kindly to disrespect."
"Enough of this!" – Catherine intervened firmly – "Let's just go to bed."
"Not so fast." – Greg said, his voice cold – "Twenty points from Gryffindor, and detention with Filch for all of you."
"Bloody wanker!" – Sirius shouted, moving to draw his wand.
"I already have a detention." – Catherine muttered, grabbing her friend's sleeve in order to prevent him from getting into a fight with her brother.
"Now you have two." – Greg smirked, unapologetic – "And if I catch you again, it's straight to Professor Thorne. He's very interested in who sneaks around the castle after dark."
"Yeah, so we don't interrupt him making out with McGonagall in random corners of the school." - Catherine scoffed.
"What?!" – her classmates exclaimed, completely stunned.
"I'll tell you later." – she grinned, but her smile faltered under Greg's furious glare – "Or maybe tomorrow. It's late, and we're all… uncomfortable."
With a bit of grumbling, James and Sirius headed to their dormitory, Remus and Peter following close behind. Catherine waited until their footsteps had faded, ensuring they were out of earshot, before slowly approaching her brother. He stood with his back to her, staring into the embers of the fireplace.
"Are you still mad at me?" – she asked softly.
"What do you think?" – Greg replied sharply, not turning around – "It seems that once you've made up your mind, nothing else matters—no one else matters. It's all about what you want."
"That's not true." – the young witch said, keeping her voice calm – "We weren't even outside. We only went up to the Astronomy Tower."
"I suppose there's no point in asking why." – the boy sneered, finally turning to face her. Catherine shifted awkwardly, nervously twirling a strand of her short hair.
"It's not my secret to share." - she said, choosing her words carefully - "I know you don't believe me, but I do appreciate how fiercely you try to protect me. What you did with Borealis was incredibly brave, and I'm truly sorry it came to that. It was never my intention for things to end up like that. And as for the true fire—I used it only to protect myself. I'd never… you know… not again."
Greg studied his sister for a moment. She stood less than a meter away, her gaze fixed on the ground, her face slightly flushed. It took him a moment to realise what she was referring to.
"Are you still hung up on that incident from years ago?" – he asked in disbelief – "I never held it against you, did I? I know it wasn't intentional. Just let it go already."
His words were cut off as Catherine practically launched herself at him, wrapping the young aristocrat in a tight hug. To say Greg was stunned would have been an understatement. This was the first time his sister had ever initiated such an intense physical contact with him. Wondering if he'd somehow fallen asleep and was dreaming, Greg slowly enclosed her in his arms, resting his chin on top of her head.
"You're really soaked." – he said gently – "You'd better change your clothes before you catch a cold."
"I will." – the young witch mumbled, clearly embarrassed – "Would you still help me find out more about the other major Houses?"
"Of course I will." – the boy nodded – "I promised, didn't I? I'll also try to look into your question about healing werewolves over Easter break."
"I'm sure you'll have the chance to bring it up." – Catherine smirked – "With me gone, Mum and Dad won't need to hide or pretend to be busy just to avoid me."
"That's never been the case." – Greg insisted firmly – "I know studying Occlumency is important for you, but you could've come home and started lessons with Dad instead of Dumbledore. He's a brilliant Occlumens."
"I doubt he'd want to spend any time with me, let alone teach me." – the girl replied bitterly – "He hasn't bothered to see me once while training you all this time."
"I'm not going to defend him—mostly because I don't know everything that goes through his mind." – the young wizard said thoughtfully – "But I do know that he's always watching out for your safety, even if he doesn't show it. In his mind, he'd rather face your anger and disappointment than risk you getting hurt."
"That's a pretty lousy excuse." – the girl scoffed, turning toward the dormitory.
"I know exactly how he feels, though." – Greg murmured to himself, his eyes lingering on the door she'd just disappeared behind.
Catherine sighed and shifted in her chair. She had been thrilled when the nausea, dizziness, and exhaustion finally subsided, but that relief was now replaced by the lingering discomfort of the failed Animagus transfiguration.
The weather was warming up, but clear skies were far from what she wanted. The girl had hoped they'd get another chance to hold their animal forms before the boys left for the Easter holiday, but with their departure only days away, it didn't seem likely.
She glanced at the pile of unfinished homework beside her. It was almost nine o'clock, and the Library was about to close. With Quidditch practices, detentions with Thorne and Filch, and all the other responsibilities piling up, the young witch barely had any time to herself. She hissed in frustration, her thoughts turning to her DADA teacher. As much as she hated to admit it, Thorne made her feel uneasy. Catherine could have reported him for using elemental magic on her, but it seemed pointless. McGonagall wouldn't do anything, and Dumbledore always insisted on trusting Carter Thorne. So, the fourth-year bit her tongue and mended the pile of old clothes—clothes she was sure weren't even his. Humiliating didn't begin to cover it. But if anything, it had fuelled her resolve to grow stronger and one day wipe that arrogant smirk off her Professor's face.
'I'd better continue working in the Common Room.' – the girl thought, noticing Madam Pince's impatient glare.
The young witch quickly gathered her books and headed to the Library exit, nearly bumping into Thalia Fawcett from Ravenclaw, who looked to be one of the last students left.
"Oh, sorry, I didn't see you." – Thalia smiled amicably – "Are you also trying to free up some time over the holidays?"
"Not really, I'm just a bit behind." – Catherine shrugged as they walked toward the Grand Staircase.
"It happens to me all the time." – the other girl chuckled – "But my family is taking a trip, so I need to finish everything to enjoy it."
"I'm surprised someone from Ravenclaw gets behind on their homework." – Catherine smirked, hopping across two vanishing steps.
"Being a Ravenclaw doesn't mean we're obsessed with schoolwork." – Thalia remarked, her dreamy brown eyes fixed somewhere far away – "There are many ways to seek knowledge."
Unfortunately, that moment of tranquillity was abruptly broken when Thalia's foot got caught in one of the vanishing steps she hadn't noticed. The Ravenclaw fourth-year stumbled, losing her balance. Catherine managed to catch her, but the other witch's weight pulled them both down, sending them tumbling through a hidden door behind a tapestry depicting an orchid garden guarded by a dragon.
The passage they ended up in was a familiar shortcut to Gryffindor Tower, although Catherine usually avoided it. She preferred a slightly longer route that didn't take her past the so-called "snogging corridor"—a nickname students gave to a secluded hallway on the fourth floor with numerous storage rooms and a few empty classrooms. Its out-of-the-way location made it a popular spot for couples seeking privacy, despite the risk of being discovered by Filch or Mrs Norris.
"Are you alright?" – the Gryffindor asked, helping her classmate back to her feet.
"Yeah, I'm fine. I can be so clumsy sometimes." – Thalia laughed nervously – "I think I can take this route to the Ravenclaw Common Room too."
"Probably." – the other witch shrugged – "There's a hidden staircase at the end of this corridor that leads to the western part of the fifth floor."
The two girls walked in silence for a few moments before Catherine stopped abruptly. "Do you hear that? It sounds like it's coming from that empty classroom over there."
"Well, you know people often come here to… be alone with their boyfriends or girlfriends." - Thalia said, glancing toward the closed door.
"I know, but that doesn't sound like someone… having fun." - Catherine replied, her expression serious. She approached the door, her hand fiddling with the handle, only to find it locked. "Alohomora!"
The wandless spell worked perfectly, earning an astonished gasp from Thalia, but Catherine had no time to bask in the admiration for her magical abilities. Since the attack on Lily, she had been constantly on edge, wary of retaliation from Lavinia or any of the other Slytherin bitches.
It seemed her instincts hadn't been entirely wrong. There was indeed a girl on the cold stone floor of the classroom, crying—but it wasn't Lily. Thalia quickly drew her wand and whispered, "Lumos." The dim light revealed something that made Catherine's stomach drop. A distinct metallic scent of blood hit her, and her eyes widened in alarm. She carefully approached the girl, who seemed unable to speak, her sobs stifled and broken. In the faint glow of Thalia's wand, Catherine recognised the wavy honey-red hair—it was Autumn Monroe from Hufflepuff.
'Another Muggle-born.' – Catherine thought, her wand already in her hand as she tried to locate the source of the blood.
"Circe, save us!" – Thalia exclaimed, her voice a mix of shock and revulsion. Catherine followed her horrified gaze to Autumn's left arm. The sleeve of her robe was torn, the fabric soaked. The black-haired witch stared in disbelief at the letters carved into Autumn's skin—large, crude, and bleeding heavily: 'MB.'
"Who would do something like this?!" – Thalia yelled, her voice trembling – "What do those initials even mean? The name of the monster who did it?"
"I'd bet it stands for Mudblood." – Catherine said quietly – "Go find a teacher, please. I'll stay with Autumn."
Thalia dashed through the door, leaving Catherine behind to soothe the injured girl while attempting to heal her wound. A soft blue light enveloped Autumn's arm, but the letters remained, glaring against her pale skin—if anything, they looked even more distinct.
'Fuck! Why won't it heal!' – Catherine cursed internally, pouring more of her energy into the spell, but to no avail – 'What kind of curse is this?'
The Gryffindor refused to give up, determined to help Autumn. But when Thalia returned fifteen minutes later with Professors Thorne and Sprout, there was still no progress. The DADA teacher conjured several glowing orbs that illuminated the room, casting bright light over the injured girl. He didn't acknowledge Catherine, but she noticed the anger that flashed in his sky-blue eyes when he saw the branded letters, and the gentleness in his voice as he spoke to Autumn, trying to find out who had done this to her. Unfortunately, she was unresponsive, and they had no choice but to escort her to the Hospital Wing immediately.
"You two should return to your Common Rooms as soon as possible." – Professor Sprout said, her eyes glistening with tears – "Thank you for helping Autumn, but as you can see, it isn't safe to be out alone after curfew—especially you, Miss Plantier."
Catherine nodded and made her way back to Gryffindor Tower. She felt sick inside—how could someone be so vile, so utterly disgusting, to attack a classmate like that? Someone they shared classes, meals, and living spaces with. She had to do something; otherwise, no Muggle-born student would be safe at Hogwarts. Asking the boys for help would be counterproductive—they were all overly worried about her and would never allow her to put herself at risk. Catherine, on the other hand, had very little fear, confident in her own abilities. But did that mean she was capable of catching whoever was behind these attacks?
The young witch entered the Gryffindor Common Room, ignoring James' enthusiastic wave, and headed straight to the girls' dormitory. Since she couldn't rely on the boys, she decided to discuss it with Lily—being a Muggle-born herself, she had a clearer understanding of the problem, and it directly affected her.
The fourth-years' bedroom was dark, and for a moment, Catherine thought she had missed Lily being somewhere downstairs. But then she heard faint sobs coming from her friend's bed.
"Lils?" – the black-haired witch asked hesitantly, stepping closer – "What's wrong?"
"It's nothing." – the other girl replied, hastily wiping her tears.
"You know you can tell me if you want to." – Catherine said gently, uncertain if Lily's tears were somehow connected to the earlier incident with Autumn.
"I know." – Lily whispered – "It's nothing, really. Just silly drama I could have avoided if I wasn't so vain and easily fooled. Severus was right in the end."
"Snape?" – Catherine asked, confused – "What's he done now?"
"He didn't do anything." – Lily snapped, her frustration surfacing through her tears – "Except warn me that Greg would eventually dump me once he got tired of me. And it looks like he was right."