Catherine paced nervously in the fourth-year girls' dormitory, her thoughts tangled in a frantic loop. No matter how fiercely her mind raced, it refused to arrive at any meaningful conclusion about the boys' completely mad idea.
"So, bottom line," - James announced, his tone triumphant - "we think these timings aren't just a coincidence. We should at least try to test if you'd still have nightmares under similar conditions, so to speak."
"What do you mean by 'similar conditions'?" - Catherine asked, anxiety creeping into her voice.
"It'd be simplest if you slept in our dormitory." - Remus said, as though it were the most obvious solution in the world.
The girl's eyes widened in disbelief. "In your room?" - she repeated, her voice rising as her cheeks turned crimson - "You mean in one of your beds? While you're in there too?"
"Well, how else would it work?" - James replied with a nonchalant shrug - "From what we've observed, there needs to be physical contact. You can alternate between me and Sirius, and we should also test if it works with Moony and Peter."
The young witch gawked at him, blood pounding in her ears. "Are you insane?!" - she shouted, her voice shaking with a mix of anger and embarrassment - "Do you have any idea what would happen if someone found out? We'd be expelled! And besides, it's ridiculous to think sleeping next to one of you would stop my nightmares!"
"It's worth testing, even if the chance is small." - Remus said calmly, his steady gaze meeting hers.
James rolled his eyes. "Come on, Flame. It's not like we'd do anything weird."
"I know that!" - Catherine snapped, then quickly softened her tone - "But it's still... embarrassing, Prongs."
The boy grinned. "What's there to be embarrassed about? You're practically our sister."
"Really?" – the witch muttered, her scepticism evident as she glanced at Remus, who gave her a reassuring smile.
"Yes, really!" - James said firmly, taking her hand in his and making the girl look at him - "I know it's unconventional, but your health is more important than anything else. If you can finally get some proper sleep, it might help with the weight loss and get you back to your elemental training. It sounds strange, but it's worked twice already. We can't ignore that."
"And you wouldn't bother us." – Remus added with a faint smile - "The beds are big enough, and you could slip back to your dormitory early in the morning. You're always up before anyone else anyway."
"Trust us, Flame!" - James urged, his hazel eyes alight with determination - "We wouldn't suggest this if we didn't think it could help."
Catherine sighed heavily, sinking onto her bed and pressing her fingers to her temples. No matter how many times she replayed her conversation with James and Remus, she still couldn't make a decision. The uncertainty troubled her, and it didn't help that she had no idea how Sirius felt about the whole thing. Since the night she'd fallen asleep in his arms two days ago, they hadn't had a chance to talk. He acted like his usual cheerful self around her, but something felt... different.
"Hey! Why are you hiding here?" – Lily's voice startled the fourth-year, who tried not to look too uneasy in front of her friend.
"I'm not hiding." - Catherine said quickly, her tone more defensive than she intended - "It's just a bit loud downstairs, and I decided to stay here instead."
"Loud?" - Lily arched an eyebrow, her red hair catching the candlelight as she leaned casually against the doorframe - "Everyone's studying. You could hear a pin drop down there. What's really going on? Still upset about Dumbledore cancelling your lessons?"
Catherine hesitated, then let out a resigned sigh. "No... well, yes, that too, but there's something else." She stood abruptly and began pacing the room once again, her anxiety bubbling to the surface. "After Dumbledore broke the news to me... I was really upset, and the boys were trying to calm me down. I guess I was more tired than I realised, and I ended up falling asleep while Sirius was holding me. We stayed like that until morning. And the weird thing is... I didn't have any nightmares that night."
"Okay..." Lily said slowly, her expression unreadable.
"This has happened before." – the girl added quickly, running a hand through her dark hair - "The night I spent in the Hospital Wing—after James accidentally hurt me during our practice duel? He came to visit me, and he saw I was tossing and turning in my sleep. He grabbed my hand and stayed with me for the rest of the night. And just like that, the nightmares stopped."
Lily frowned, her brow furrowing in thought. "That's... a bit too strange to be a coincidence."
"That's what the boys think, too." - Catherine admitted, flopping back onto her bed with another sigh - "Now they want to test if this 'close contact' thing actually works. Their brilliant plan is for me to sneak into their dormitory at night, sleep in one of their beds, and sneak back here early in the morning before anyone notices."
Lily was silent for a moment, her face thoughtful and her lips pressed together. Then, with sudden confidence, she declared, "This could work."
"What?!" – the other witch stared at her, astonished - "Are you serious? Do you have any idea what could happen if we get caught?"
"Yeah, but you won't." – the red-headed Gryffindor replied with a mischievous smirk, her emerald eyes shining – "Mary won't say a word, even if she notices you're missing, and Gwyneth sleeps until the last possible minute. It's not like anyone would think twice about you being up early—you're always jogging or off to Quidditch practice at the crack of dawn. Nobody has to know."
"It still sounds way too risky." - Catherine said, folding her arms across her chest.
"But what if it really helps with your nightmares?" - Lily pressed - "You can't keep relying on Dreamless Sleep Potion just to get a few hours of rest. It's not good for you."
"I know." – the black-haired girl mumbled, her gaze dropping to the floor – "It's just… it feels so wrong. And honestly? It's quite embarrassing."
"I get it." – the other witch said, busying herself with rearranging the pillows on Catherine's bed - "I won't pretend I like any of those dunderheads—well, maybe Remus is the exception—but let's be real. They care about you, and you know they're not the type to grope you or try anything indecent. Right?"
Catherine nodded reluctantly, her cheeks burning as an unwelcome thought slipped into her mind. Would it really be so bad if one particular boy got a bit less decent with her? She shook her head quickly, willing the insane idea away before Lily could notice the blush creeping up her neck.
"So, you think I should go along with their plan?" – the black-haired girl asked, her voice hesitant.
"Absolutely!" - Lily said, her tone bright and supportive. Then she added with a grin - "We could even test if sleeping in my bed helps with the nightmares. Much less scandalous."
"That would be amazing if it worked." – the other girl chuckled - "It'd make things so much easier for everyone."
"Exactly!" - Lily agreed, pulling her wand out of her pocket - "But just in case it doesn't... Pneuma Pluvia!"
The pile of pillows under Catherine's blanket began to move rhythmically, rising and falling as though a person were breathing beneath it. The effect was startlingly realistic.
"We'll call it—Operation Sleeping Beauty!" - Lily declared dramatically.
Catherine burst into laughter, the tension in her chest finally loosening. The other witch joined her as they both tumbled onto the bed, giggling.
End-of-year exams always brought a particular kind of tense silence to Hogwarts. The air in the castle seemed thick with stress as students desperately crammed last-minute knowledge into their heads. Minor incidents peppered the exam period, like Fabian Rookwood from Slytherin ending up in the Hospital Wing after taking a fake Focus Potion, or Elowen Frost from Gryffindor having a full-blown meltdown during her DADA N.E.W.T. exam. Professor Thorne had to cast a Calming Charm on the girl and escort her to a quiet room for half an hour before she could continue.
In stark contrast to the frazzled chaos around her, Catherine breezed through her exams with effortless ease. She was probably in the best mood she'd been in all year. While spending the night in Lily's bed hadn't helped her nightmares, much to her surprise, sleeping in the boys' dormitory worked miraculously.
The first time they tried it, the young witch woke up feeling groggy but still incredibly well-rested—an alien sensation after months of sleepless nights. For a few seconds, she was disoriented, blinking in the soft morning light, until James' warm breath on her arm brought everything flooding back. There were faint, fleeting memories of dreams, but no magical outbursts or residual chaos. Against all odds, her friends' ridiculous plan had worked.
Encouraged by the success, Catherine agreed to test the limits of her condition in the nights that followed. Sleeping in Remus' bed proved just as effective, though she spent the first few minutes under his blankets absolutely mortified. Moony, ever kind and patient, quickly put her at ease with the most ridiculous and painfully unfunny joke only an introvert could muster, but the awkwardness did melt away.
The next experiment, however, didn't go as planned. She had barely fallen asleep beside Peter when her nightmares returned with full force. Thankfully, she managed to wake up before her magic flared. The last thing she wanted was to explain a burned carpet or books flying around the room. Her friends were kind enough not to question her too closely, and she was grateful they didn't push her further. With Peter out of the rotation, she began alternating between James, Remus, and Sirius.
Of the three, sharing a bed with Sirius was the most nerve-wracking. The first night was an exercise in self-restraint; Sirius, outwardly cool and nonchalant, made it look easy, but Catherine was a bundle of nerves. Her heart pounded so hard she was certain he could hear it, lying just centimetres away. Sleep came only in fleeting snatches, her thoughts spinning in a mix of embarrassment and something she refused to fully examine.
Over time, it became easier—or at least less mortifying. Sirius, for all his teasing, was surprisingly considerate, and Catherine eventually managed to relax. To her astonishment, she found that she slept better next to him than she did with James or Remus. It was a fact she tried not to dwell on too much, especially when she caught herself looking forward to the nights they'd share.
"So, the hottest boy soothes your nightmares most effectively?" - Lily asked with a giggle as they walked back from the Library, their arms full of books, ready to get some rest before the Charms exam the next morning.
"You think Sirius is hot?" – Catherine teased, a smirk tugging at her lips.
"No, he's hideous!" - Lily rolled her eyes, though her tone betrayed her sarcasm - "I mean, he's still a complete pillock, but objectively, he's the most handsome of our classmates."
"James is going to be heartbroken!" – the other girl shot back, clearly enjoying the fury now spreading across her friend's face – "Oh, come on! You know he's head over heels for you."
"That's his problem!" - Lily snapped, her cheeks reddening - "Besides, I'm done with boys for a while. I want to focus on my family and friends. I think I've had enough romance to last a lifetime."
Catherine tilted her head, her teasing tone softening. "Are you sure you can't fix things with Greg? You two were such a great couple."
"I can't be with someone who gives up on me on a whim and then claims it's 'for my own good.'" – the red-headed witch said decisively, her green eyes blazing - "Not to mention, if it weren't for you, I wouldn't have even known the real reason behind the breakup. He's been avoiding me like the plague ever since."
"There's a lot on his plate." - Catherine defended her brother, though her tone was measured - "Being the heir of our family and keeping an eye on me isn't exactly easy. But… I do agree he screwed up big time with you. He should have at least explained the real reason instead of hiding behind excuses."
"Water under the bridge." - Lily shrugged, but her expression shifted into something mischievous - "Speaking of breakups, you're awfully quiet about the one the whole school is gossiping about."
"I don't really care about gossip." – the other girl said, her shoulders stiffening as she avoided her friend's gaze.
"Oh, come on, Daisy, spit it out!" – the red-headed witch refused to let go – "What are you going to do now that Sirius is free again?"
"Absolutely nothing." – Catherine replied firmly, keeping her tone as neutral as possible.
Lily stared at her, completely floored. "Are you serious? The two of you need to stop playing games and just get together already!"
"It's not that simple." – the other girl mumbled.
"I don't see anything complicated about it." - Lily scoffed, tossing her hair back - "He's been crazy about you since the first day on the Hogwarts Express. I don't know what possessed him to start dating Marianne, but the path is clear now."
"I don't think Sirius breaking up with Marianne has anything to do with me." - Catherine replied, shaking her head - "He's been acting completely normal when I sleep in his bed—except he's started calling me his sister for some reason."
"Merlin's beard!" – Lily burst into laughter – "He must be in complete denial! So why don't you take the initiative? I've been watching you struggle for months, Daisy. It's so obvious you like him!"
"Really?" – the other witch asked, her face turning a deep shade of red. She hesitated, then muttered – "I don't know... Maybe I do like him, but I can't go through another rejection. It was awful last time, and it nearly ruined my friendship with Remus. Things with Sirius are so good and chill right now. I don't want to lose my best friend. And with everything happening to me, who knows how much time I even have left? I don't want to drag him into all this."
"Don't say that!" - Lily snapped, her fiery temper flaring as her eyes flashed with emotion - "You're going to be fine! I believe in you! With all the extra sleep, you're going to stop losing weight, and maybe you'll even gain some meat on those scrawny bones of yours next year."
"That would be nice." - Catherine said softly, allowing herself a small smile - "I might end up with noticeable breasts."
"Stop obsessing about your looks!" – the red-headed girl shot back, her voice trembling slightly - "You're beautiful, Daisy. Inside and out."
The heartfelt words struck a chord, and Catherine felt her throat tighten as if tears might escape.
"But seriously," - Lily continued - "you should consider telling the boys the truth about... well, you. It's fine to keep your identity a secret, but at least let them know about the demon. They've probably already figured out there's something strange going on with the nightmares. The longer you keep it from them, the worse it'll get. You might be surprised how much their support could help."
Catherine hesitated, biting her lip. "I'll think about it." - she said at last - "For now, I just want to go back to using true fire. I feel strangely helpless without it. Gold and sparkles!"
The portrait of the Fat Lady swung open, and the girls stepped into the Gryffindor Common Room. The space buzzed with quiet energy, full of students buried behind books and notes, the weight of exams pressing down on everyone. Catherine and Lily didn't discuss the earlier topic any further, instead trying to relax —though it was easier said than done with Peter pacing frantically, mumbling incantations under his breath as he struggled to memorise them all.
The Charms exam, the last of the season, went relatively smoothly. Catherine's nerves steadied as she flawlessly demonstrated the Severing Charm for Professor Flitwick, earning an approving nod. She stepped aside to make room for Ethan Wilkies, who was next.
As she passed the Slytherin, he smirked and said loud enough for the whole room to hear, "Good job, Plantier! Now you can get rid of your clothes with a simple spell."
Heat rose to the black-haired girl's face, her ears burning with embarrassment. She clenched her wand tightly, tempted to hex the smug look off his face. Instead, she hissed through gritted teeth, "You're lucky this spell doesn't cut through flesh. Perhaps I should modify it."
Ethan let out a mocking laugh, but the young witch ignored him, turning sharply on her heel. She left the classroom, her heart pounding with a mix of fury and frustration.
Once outside, she quickened her pace, heading toward the Black Lake to calm her nerves. The sky stretched clear and bright above her, but the air felt oppressively heavy, clinging to her like the tension she couldn't quite shake. Groups of students dotted the grounds, their chatter filling the space as they compared exam answers and shared their relief at the year coming to an end.
Catherine made her way to her favourite spot under the willows, where the air seemed cooler, quieter. As she approached, she noticed a familiar figure sitting on the soft grass, her gaze absentmindedly skimming the shimmering surface of the lake.
"Hi, Gwendolyn." – the fourth-year greeted the older girl as she sank to the ground beside her – "I assume you're all done with your N.E.W.T.s?"
"Yes." – the blond witch replied with a small, sad smile - "It's all done now. Just a few more days left to enjoy Hogwarts before I leave for good."
"Well, you can always come back and teach if you love it here so much." – Catherine suggested cheerfully.
"That's true, but it would probably not happen." – the other witch agreed with a wistful sigh – "I've accepted a position working with Professor Amélie Sauveterre. She teaches Ancient Runes at Beauxbatons, but she's also one of the most renowned scholars of Ancient Magic in all of Europe."
"Sounds like a perfect fit for you." – the Gryffindor remarked warmly – "Are you going to be her intern?"
"Yes, though most of my work won't be tied to her teaching." – Gwendolyn's tone brightened with enthusiasm – "Professor Sauveterre is currently researching Angelica's Ring. It's a legendary artifact said to have belonged to Angelica, princess of Cathay. Supposedly, the ring made its wearer immune to all enchantments and rendered them invisible when placed in their mouth."
"That's incredible!" - Catherine said, her eyes widening - "I hope you find what you're looking for—it sounds like an amazing opportunity. I'm really going to miss you, though. Not to mention, I won't have anyone to talk about Ancient Runes with anymore."
"Well," - Gwendolyn said thoughtfully - "I've had some interesting discussions with that Slytherin boy, Severus Snape. He's in your class, isn't he? He has some fascinating ideas about Ancient Magic. Maybe the two of you could have some nice conversations."
Catherine bit the inside of her cheek to keep from saying something childish about how she'd prefer discussing runes with a mountain troll over Severus Snape. Instead, she forced a small smile and replied, "It won't be the same."
The other girl nodded with appreciation, her expression softening as she suddenly reached out to take the Gryffindor's hand. "Catherine, I need to ask you for something."
"Of course, if I can help." – the fourth-year aid, her brow furrowing in confusion.
"Since I'm leaving for France and Giselle is still in America, we don't really have anyone to rely on here." - Gwendolyn said, her voice hesitant - "My younger brother, Gilderoy, is starting school next year, and he's going to need some guidance."
"I'm always available if he needs anything." – the other witch replied politely.
"The thing is…" – the Ravenclaw paused, carefully choosing her words – "He's not a bad kid, but we might have tried a bit too hard to make sure he didn't feel overshadowed by me and Giselle while growing up. As a result, he's become... well, a bit too certain of himself. He's not lazy, but he doesn't like to put in the effort when things don't come easily. He tends to assume everything will just go his way. You can imagine how that might cause issues here at Hogwarts."
Catherine nodded slowly, her brow furrowing. "I see." - she hesitated, unsure what she could realistically do for young Gilderoy Lockhart - "I promise that even if he's not sorted into Gryffindor, I'll reach out and let him know I'm here to help if he needs anything—homework or otherwise."
"Thank you so much!" – the other witch let out a sigh of relief, her shoulders visibly relaxing – "It really means a lot to me—and it'll help put my parents' minds at ease about sending him off to school."
"Don't mention it." – the black-haired girl said with a smile, standing and brushing off her robes – "After all, you've helped me so many times, especially when I was struggling with Lumirith. It's the least I can do."
A low rumble echoed across the mountains, drawing their attention skyward. Gwendolyn's blue eyes reflected the now-grey sky as she frowned. "Looks like there's going to be a storm." - she said flatly, seemingly unaware of the flicker of unease that crossed the younger witch's face.
"It does." – Catherine replied, trying to mask her impatience – "I'd better get back—I don't want to get caught in the rain. See you around, Gwen."
Without waiting for a reply, the fourth-year almost sprinted toward the castle, her heart pounding. She hoped the boys had finished their Charms exam by now.
'I need to sort this out before the holidays!' – she thought frantically as she dashed through the castle doors and hurried up the Grand Staircase.
"Do I still have a tail?" – James whispered as he and Catherine lay side by side in his bed in the boys' dormitory that evening.
"For the fifth time, no!" – the girl replied, her eyes closed and her tone exasperated.
"You didn't even check!" – the young wizard protested, frustration creeping into his voice.
"I don't have to." – she muttered, finally opening her eyes in the dark and shifting uncomfortably– "It seems like the more we try, the worse we feel afterward. I just don't get why it's not working. There must be something missing—some instruction the bloody book didn't include."
"You don't say!" – James scoffed sarcastically – "I feel so awful, I'm actually considering going to McGonagall, confessing the whole thing, and begging for her help."
"If you do that, detention for the rest of your school life would be a mercy." – Catherine sighed – "I know it's frustrating, but we have to keep trying—even during the summer. If one of us manages to pull it off, they can help the rest."
"I never thought I'd be hoping for a rainy summer." – the boy chuckled – "It's weird to think we've got less than a week left. Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled we won the Quidditch Cup and we're about to take the House Cup too, but… I'm going to miss everyone during the holidays. Are you sure you can't come visit?"
"I don't think my parents would allow it." – the young witch said, imagining her mother's face if she even asked – "I'll write you every week, though."
"You'd better." – James nodded, his tone suddenly serious – "I'll be worried sick if I don't hear from you—especially with all the... incidents involving Muggles and Muggle-borns."
"Don't fret too much." – Catherine said softly, guilt twisting in her chest. She knew he thought she might be in danger because of Voldemort's rise and his followers' actions – "I don't think my family would be of any interest to Death Eaters."
"One never knows." – her classmate insisted – "It terrifies me to think that any one of our Muggle-born classmates could be next... especially… never mind."
"Especially Lily." – the girl finished for him, her voice gentle – "You can tell her you're worried about her, you know?"
James was silent for a moment, then sighed. "What's the point? If I told her I was worried, she'd just call me something colourful and tell me it's none of my business."
"Are you giving up on her?" – Catherine asked, her voice teasing as she hid a smirk in the darkness.
"Of course not! – the boy huffed indignantly – "But it does get a bit discouraging sometimes."
"You know, James, at first, I thought you were only interested in Lily because she didn't give you the positive attention everyone else did. Like you were just chasing the thrill of conquering the unconquerable." – the young witch said, ignoring her friend's annoyed grunt – "But as time passed, I noticed you genuinely care about her. And I honestly think you two could work as a couple."
"Really, Flame?" – James asked, his surprise evident. It was the first time anyone had taken his feelings for Lily seriously.
"Yes." – the witch chuckled softly – "But you need to work on how you express your feelings. You come off as way too intense, and some of the things you do definitely don't work in your favour. For example, do you think Lily would've reacted well if she saw you hexing Snape the way I did a few weeks ago?"
"What does Snivellus have to do with anything?" – the boy groaned, his irritation bubbling to the surface.
"He's an important part of her life, whether you like it or not." – Catherine pointed out – "And, let's be honest, she finds that kind of behaviour revolting."
"So what you're saying is, I should hex him where she can't see me?" – James concluded, his tone deadpan.
Catherine barely managed to stifle a laugh, though her lips twitched in amusement. "I suppose that's… one way to look at it." - she said with a grin - "But my honest advice? Act more mature around Lily. Be the person you are with us—kind, funny, and loyal—but tone down the bragging. We know you mean it as a joke, but it doesn't always come across that way to others. Make her feel safe around you. With everything happening in the Wizarding world, that's what she needs most right now, no matter how brave she is."
James went quiet for a moment, and when he finally spoke, his voice was uncharacteristically serious. "Thanks, Flame. I'll try to do what you're saying, though... it won't be easy to keep such tight control over myself."
"It's never easy." – the girl said softly, thinking of her own struggles with emotions and restraint.
"Flame…" – James whispered after a pause, his tone suddenly gentle – "Do you feel unsafe?"
The question caught the girl off guard. "I suppose we all do." - she replied cautiously, uncertain where the conversation was heading.
"Yeah, but you must feel especially worried, being a prime target for... well, everything that's happening." – James pressed, his voice intense – "I just want you to know that you don't have to be afraid. We'll all protect you, no matter what. I'd rather die than let you get hurt."
The young witch felt tears prickling her eyes at the weight of his words, but she forced a chuckle to lighten the mood. "You don't need to go that far, though." - she said, masking her gratitude - "Let's just do our best to stand up to what's coming and have each other's backs."
"Would you two shut up already?!" – Sirius snapped from across the room – "Some of us are trying to sleep!"
"Sorry, Padfoot!" – James called back, his cheeky grin audible in his voice – "Didn't realise your ears were so delicate. Want me to conjure some earplugs? Or maybe Flame can come tuck you in—ouch!"
Catherine's pillow collided with his head before he could finish, and the room erupted in laughter. Within seconds, a flurry of pillows filled the air as the teenagers let go of their worries for a fleeting moment, drowning the weight of the world in a rare burst of innocent fun.
The garden of Feywood Heights basked in the shimmering glow of a June afternoon. A symphony of vibrant blooms swayed gently in the breeze, their colors gleaming with an almost otherworldly radiance. Exotic magical flowers mingled with traditional English roses, their petals glistening with dewdrops that never seemed to dry. Enchanted butterflies flitted through the air, leaving trails of glittering light behind them.
Duchess McMahon sat gracefully on a wrought-iron chair beneath an arched trellis of honeysuckle. The vines released a subtle, soothing melody as the wind played through their enchanted leaves. She wore an elegant Ossie Clark summer dress, its flowing chiffon catching the sunlight in waves of pastel hues, paired with a wide-brimmed sunhat. Her Veela blood shone unmistakably in the way her porcelain skin and radiant golden hair transformed the sunlight into a halo, making the world seem dull in comparison. The air hummed softly with the ancient enchantments woven into the land, as if the garden itself were alive, attuned to the presence of its mistress.
Louisa sighed, setting aside the parchment in her hands. The sharp, almost unreadable letters scrawled across it still felt like a slap, and the bolded, underlined words at the bottom— Il faudrait que vous veniez, le plus tôt serait le mieux [1] - demanded urgency she wasn't ready to face. She closed her eyes and drew a steadying breath, but it did little to temper the sting of her mother's cutting tone. No matter how many years had passed or how far she had fled, Étincelle's cold indifference still burned. Returning to her birthplace wasn't just difficult—it was excruciating. The memory of hostile gazes from the Veela covenant, paired with her mother's icy detachment, made her stomach twist. Old wounds, carefully buried, threatened to surface, and Louisa couldn't help but shudder. The past, it seemed, refused to stay buried.
'It's not about me though.' – the witch thought with determination, shaking her head to dispel the growing unease – 'I have my daughter to think of. If going back helps her, I'll endure whatever they throw at me. Discomfort, abuse, humiliation—none of it is new. I've survived before, and I'll survive again.'
"Knut for your thoughts, my Nymph." - Edward whispered, brushing his lips against her cheek.
Louisa lifted her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "I doubt they're worth even that much."
The wizard's brow furrowed as he caught the heaviness in her tone. His gaze drifted to the crumpled parchment in her hands, and he quickly guessed the cause of her mood.
"Does your mother refuse to help?" – the Duke asked, his voice low and tense, though he feigned interest in a nearby rose bush.
"No." – the witch said with a weary shake of her head – "She didn't explain much, but she warned that true fire is extremely dangerous for females. Many who attempt the training don't survive it, and most choose not to take the risk. Those who succeed are always Salamander-types. If Dumbledore's right and Catherine is a Phoenix-type, she's not sure there's any hope."
Edward groaned, trying to mask his frustration for Louisa's sake. "The fact something's difficult doesn't mean it's impossible. Doesn't Étincelle think she could help if we bring Catherine to her?"
"She didn't want to give us false hope." – the Duchess murmured, closing her eyes to hide the brimming tears – "But she did write that we should come as soon as possible. Perhaps the ancient fire magic of the covenant—the magic in Veela blood—could ease the strain on my little girl's body."
"In that case, it's best if we leave right after your birthday." – the wizard said thoughtfully – "It's also plausible to disappear for a while after organising such a big party. We'll spread the rumour that you're visiting your father, and I'll buy airplane tickets for all of us. Forging Muggle papers is much easier than smuggling Catherine through the border with a Portkey. It's too risky."
"Alright" – Louisa agreed half-heartedly.
Edward studied her with concern. "Don't worry, my love!" – he mumbled softly, taking his wife's hand and pressing a gentle kiss to the back of her wrist – "I know this trip will be hard on you, but you're so strong. I have no doubt you'll come back even stronger."
"It's not about me." – the Duchess snapped, her green eyes flashing with frustration – "I'm so anxious about Catherine. First, the demon—now this! I wish she had inherited more of my Veela blood. Maybe then she'd be fine, even with her fire inclination. But genetics can be strange. It seems the Veela heritage fades in the second generation; otherwise, her appearance would be very different."
"Are you disappointed?" – Edward asked quietly, his voice measured – "I still think she's beautiful."
"What? No!" – the exclaimed, her full lips pursing in exasperation – "And of course she's beautiful! When she was little, I was actually relieved she didn't resemble me. Having Veela looks might seem glamorous, but it's a curse—especially with the other powers that come with it. Still, given the circumstances, I can't help but wonder if her body would've been stronger with the fire magic Veelas possess."
"You're overthinking this." – the Duke said patiently – "Even if Catherine had inherited more of your Veela nature, it doesn't mean she'd cope better with true fire. You're half-Veela, and you have no inclination for fire. Besides, I know you avoid using fire spells altogether because you're never sure they'll work."
"That's because I'm inclined to earth." – Louisa retorted, tossing her golden hair over her shoulder – "But just because I can't wield fire properly doesn't mean I don't benefit from my blood's protection. You've seen it yourself—I never get burned by ordinary flames."
"That's true." – Edward admitted – "Though the first time you showed me that, I nearly fainted, imagining what the fire might do to your soft skin."
Louisa chuckled, her green eyes glinting with amusement. "I'll never understand how such an accomplished Occlumens could panic so easily."
"I control my emotions only when I have to." – the wizard replied with a nonchalant shrug – "Living behind Occlumency shields all the time would be miserable, not to mention suspicious. And it's hardly the image I want to present to the other aristocrats. We're safest when they underestimate us—'always keep them guessing,' as Carsilion says."
"Speaking of him," - Louisa said, adjusting the brim of her hat - "I suppose he won't be attending the party?"
"No." – Edward shook his head – "He thinks it's better to show a bit of hostility toward you during such a public event. We can't let the other Houses suspect we're all on the same page. Besides," - he added, lowering his voice - "it gives him the perfect excuse to assist with arranging our trip to France."
"I wish we could just spend my birthday with the people we truly care about—our kids and him. Maybe we could invite Duke Prince too; he seems so lonely these days." – the witch sighed, thinking about all the mental energy she would need to waste in order to appear dashing and carefree during the upcoming party.
Edward smiled fondly at his wife. "I know you have a soft spot for the old man, but he's tougher than you think. And I promise you, once we've successfully introduced our daughter to the world, we'll have exactly the kind of party you want. Not a single person we don't like will be invited."
"It would be so nice!" – Louisa whispered, her gaze drifting dreamily to the clear summer sky.
"Everything will be alright, my Nymph!" – the Duke said, his voice filled with tenderness – "But it's getting too hot out here. Let's head back inside. The children will be arriving in London in about four hours. I'll go pick them up, and we can have a nice family dinner."
"I'll check if we have mint chocolate chip ice-cream." – the witch declared, springing to her feet – "I need to make sure Catherine eats as much as possible before my mother gets the chance to help her."
Edward watched his wife stroll energetically toward the castle, her golden hair glinting in the sunlight. His smile faded as a heavy weight settled in his chest. The weight of Carsilion's note lingered in his thoughts, its warning clear and unyielding when he informed them that Catherine and Greg had left on the Hogwarts Express.
'Don't look too shocked when you see her.' – he had written – 'Her body is already fragile, be careful not to break her spirit too.'
[1] The sooner you come, the better.
The first subtle signs of dawn seeped into Catherine's room as the darkness melted into muted grey. The air grew lighter, carrying the faint chirping of birds and the promise of morning on the horizon. The girl jolted awake, her plain white cotton nightgown clinging to her damp skin. She sighed deeply, tossing aside the covers, and hurried to open the nearest window. The cool morning air swept in, soothing her flushed cheeks.
Her room was a disaster—a chaotic mess of books, clothes, and scattered belongings strewn across every available surface. So far, her summer vacation had been as dreadful as she had feared. From the moment she crossed the threshold of her family home, the atmosphere had felt stifling. Her parents whispered constantly, their furtive glances at her more frequent and unsettling than usual. Trapped in unbearable boredom, Catherine had taken to reading aimlessly and counting the days until September 1st.
Without her friends' support, sleepless nights had returned to plague her. The Dreamless Sleep Potion, taken sparingly once a week, barely dulled the edge of her exhaustion. Dark purple circles shadowed her pale, gaunt face, emphasising how thin and fragile she had become. On rare occasions, sheer fatigue overpowered her defences, and she surrendered to nights filled with terrible, bloody nightmares—visions where she stood at the centre of unspeakable pain and suffering.
At times, she considered asking her brother if she could sleep in his room, hoping his presence might help her sleep but something always held her back. Besides, Greg had his own burdens as the heir to House McMahon. Since returning from Hogwarts, he was rarely home, and when he was, he seemed as worn and weary as she felt.
Something peculiar occurred a couple of weeks after their return from school. While discussing Louisa's upcoming birthday celebration during dinner, Edward abruptly turned to Catherine. The young witch had been absentmindedly pushing food around her plate when he announced she should prepare her luggage: the family was leaving for France a few days after the party.
The news caught her off guard, but no one volunteered any further explanation, and Catherine, unbothered, chose not to press them. It would be her first trip abroad, and the thought of changing scenery thrilled her. She suspected her parents intended to leave her and Greg in the care of her grandfather, Florian Plantier, while they enjoyed some time alone. The idea didn't trouble her in the slightest. In fact, the prospect of visiting her grandfather's estate—a place she had long dreamed of seeing—filled her with excitement. Florian was known for doting on her, and she anticipated being spoiled thoroughly during her stay. The thrill was enough to outweigh the disappointment of missing yet another grand ball at her own home.
The sun now bathed the grass in golden light, the morning dew transforming the backyard into a shimmering carpet of tiny diamonds. The house-elves were already hard at work, bustling about with quiet determination as they prepared for the evening's feast. Delicate fairy lights were strung between the trees, their soft glows promising to enchant the garden as night fell. Long tables, draped in pristine linens, had been arranged neatly across the lawn, while the dance floor gleamed beside the grand fountain at the garden's heart. The fountain's golden sculptures—a lion, a snake, a badger, and an eagle—sprayed arcs of water high into the air, the droplets catching the sunlight as they tumbled back down with a cheerful, cascading rumble.
The entire castle buzzed with preparations during the whole day —no expense or effort spared for the Duchess McMahon's birthday celebration. The theme of A Midsummer Night's Dream transformed Feywood Heights into a magical fairyland, with enchantments woven generously into every detail. Select guests from the other six major Houses were invited, ensuring that the occasion was not just a social highlight but a showcase of the family's prestige and power.
Hidden in the shadows of her open window, Catherine watched the guests arrive. Her excitement for the upcoming trip to France was dampened by the sting of missing the most extravagant celebration she had ever witnessed. Though she had attended her fair share of parties at Hogwarts, they paled in comparison to the grand balls of her childhood—events she could observe from afar but never enjoy in person.
As dusk settled, the garden came alive. Music swelled, and magical lights floated through the air, like a swarm of colourful fireflies. The dance floor became the centrepiece, drawing young couples eager to display their grace, charm, and exquisite attire. It was clear that everyone, especially the women, had spared no effort in their appearances. No one wanted to risk being labelled a 'fashion disaster' by one of Britain's most renowned designers.
Meanwhile, the older guests mingled, strolling leisurely through the gardens and indulging in the finest food and drink. Catherine knew from Greg that these moments were more than just social pleasantries. Behind the polite smiles and glittering glasses, deals were struck, alliances forged, and secrets traded. As the night deepened, and the wine flowed more freely, the shadiest agreements were often made—when attention wavered and inhibitions loosened. The girl, however, had little hope that the alleged cure for werewolves, the topic she was most interested in, would come up in these secret talks.
What did pique the young witch's curiosity, though, was her mother's gown. Louisa had been in and out of the house all day, and by the time she retired to her room to prepare, the guests were already arriving. Catherine hadn't even managed a glimpse of the Duchess, whose sartorial choices always drew admiration and whispers.
From her vantage point, the girl could see part of the dance floor where her mother would undoubtedly appear at some point, but the angle was poor, and the distance too great. Frustration bubbled within her until her gaze fell on the old apple tree below her window. She hesitated for only a moment before making her decision.
With practiced precision, she swung her legs over the windowsill, using the rough stones of the castle wall as footholds and gripping the edges with her hands. A quick, measured descent brought her to the highest branch of the tree, and she landed silently among the dense foliage. Hidden within the rustling leaves, Catherine found a perfect perch that gave her an unobstructed view of the fountain and the brightly lit dance floor.
Her heart raced, her face glowing with the thrill of rebellion. For once, she had defied her parents' rules, slipping out of her room to claim this secret spot. She took a deep breath, the cool night air refreshing against her skin, and nestled into her leafy hideaway. Confident that no one had noticed her escape, she allowed herself a moment of quiet triumph, ready to take in and enjoy the real-life spectacle unfolding before her, reminiscent of a scene from the Muggle movie My Fair Lady.
The band was playing Rod Stewart's "Sailing" when the Duchess finally appeared, accompanied by Greg, who seemed to draw nearly as much attention as his mother. Louisa wore a gown crafted from layers of sheer, iridescent fabric that shimmered like moonlight, shifting subtly between shades of silver, lavender, and soft gold with every movement. Delicate floral embroidery, adorned with tiny, sparkling crystals, cascaded down the bodice and into the gossamer skirt, which trailed behind her like a whisper of stardust. Her slender heels, designed with intricate silver vines and blooming flower motifs, peeked out as she glided gracefully across the dance floor.
A tiara of interwoven golden leaves and tiny glowing gemstones crowned her head, while long, dangling earrings resembling droplets of morning dew framed her high cheekbones. Around her neck rested a simple yet striking necklace of jade and diamonds, reflecting the brilliance of her green eyes and completing the look of a queen straight out of a fairytale.
Catherine had always known her mother was breathtakingly beautiful, but now she saw how others reacted to her. Many of the men couldn't take their eyes off Louisa, their expressions filled with something dark and possessive that the girl couldn't quite name.
Greg, meanwhile, showcased impressive dancing skills, guiding his mother effortlessly across the floor. 'I can't believe he's taller than her now.' – the young witch thought, her attention drawn to a nearby group of girls around her age. They giggled and whispered among themselves, their eyes fixed on Greg with no attempt to hide their admiration.
'I suppose it's normal, considering he's the future Head of our House.' – the black-haired girl mused, though she couldn't shake the creeping sense of inadequacy welling up inside her.
When the song ended, Louisa and Greg bowed gracefully to each other. Almost immediately, another man stepped forward and invited the Duchess to dance. The band transitioned into a hauntingly beautiful ballad titled "The Enchanted Rose." It was an ancient melody, inspired by the magical roses that bloomed only under the light of a crescent moon.
Louisa's new partner, despite his advanced age, was an accomplished dancer, moving with the practiced elegance of years of experience. Catherine noticed her mother smiling—genuinely this time—as they conversed animatedly, their steps seamlessly in sync. For the first time that evening, Louisa appeared entirely at ease, the weight of her noble title momentarily forgotten in the magic of the night.
"Don't you think we should find a more private place?" – a rough male voice muttered from under the tree.
Catherine froze, her breath catching in her throat as her blood seemed to turn to ice. Peering through the dense leaves, she spotted Duke Adrian Borealis standing just a few meters below her. He was impeccably dressed in a light grey linen suit, a flute of champagne casually held in one hand. Beside him stood Marquess North Redmond, his sharp eyes darting around as though he expected spies to emerge from the shadows.
"Speaking out in the open is far less suspicious than skulking in the bushes, my dear friend." – Adrian replied with a smirk as he sipped his champagne, gaze fixed firmly on the dance floor.
"Or perhaps you just want to keep an eye on that half-breed?" – the older wizard sneered, his tone laced with disdain. Catherine bit the inside of her cheek, her fists clenching around the branch to keep herself from unleashing a torrent of fire onto the Heads of the two Houses.
"I'm capable of multitasking." – Duke Borealis hummed lightly, though a dangerous edge undercut his words – "Besides, it's important we present ourselves as gracious guests. No need to draw unnecessary attention to our plans."
"I'm sick of pretending." – the Marquess snapped, his frustration spilling out in a hiss – "Though, given Carsilion's absence, I'd wager I'm not the only one tired of playing a role."
"Such a shame." – Adrian murmured, his chuckle low and humourless – "But hardly a surprise. Someone as pitifully weak as Edward McMahon can't even manage his personal affairs properly. Poor Louisa. She must be drowning in humiliation. Tragic for someone so… dazzling."
"Pff!" – Redmond scoffed, his expression twisting in disgust – "She's nothing more than a creature, using the magic in her blood to lure men. Beasts like her should be studied, then locked away for good. Honestly, I've often thought Lauren Whiters might have a point—though the man could be a touch more discreet about his… hobby."
The other man's smirk vanished, replaced by an icy glare. "I'd hate to see that particular specimen fall into Whiters' hands." - he said coldly, the air around him seeming to chill - "Once we seize control, I'll handle the matter personally."
"Suit yourself." – the Marquess grunted, clearly unimpressed – "As long as we rid ourselves of these demon spawns, you can do whatever you please with the spoils."
"All in good time." – Adrian said calmly, turning towards his companion – "Right now, I'm far more concerned about your pet snake that's on the loose. I thought you had the means to manipulate him."
"I do." – the other wizard scoffed, his tone laced with irritation – "I'll admit it's a bit more chaotic than I anticipated, but chaos works to our advantage. As long as he believes he's the one in control, we're fine. The last thing we need is for him to turn against us—it'd be an utter nuisance."
"Just make sure no one can trace him back to us." – the Duke muttered, his gaze shifting once again to the dance floor. A faint smirk tugged at his lips – "I see the dance is over. Frankly, I'm surprised the old man didn't collapse halfway through."
"Such a tragedy." – Marquess Redmond replied with a mocking shake of his head – "The seed of Merlin, lost forever. Then again, what else could one expect from a House led by women? Alexander gambled everything on his daughter, and this is the result."
"It's not all bad." – Adrian remarked with a shrug, stepping out from the shadow of the tree – "If the Pact gets broken, I suspect both of us will feel some relief by the present development. Dealing with House Prince's powers is hardly a burden I'd care to shoulder."
The other man grunted in agreement, his expression dark. Without another word, the two aristocrats parted ways, each heading in opposite directions.
Catherine remained frozen in her perch, her heart hammering against her ribs. She didn't dare move, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts. What she had overheard was maddeningly vague—too little to form concrete conclusions. But one thing was clear: Borealis and Redmond were plotting to break the Pact, and her family was in grave danger, even without her existence being exposed.
The young witch felt sickened by the way the two wizards spoke about Louisa. Their words churned in her stomach like poison, and shame quickly followed as she realised how much she had envied her mother—even tonight. Earlier, as she had watched the Duchess, Catherine had bitterly thought Sirius might have looked at her differently if she had inherited even a fraction of her elegance and beauty.
'I must be insanely vain to think this way while Mom endures such treatment.' – the black-haired girl thought, her chest tightening as she fought back angry tears. Her gaze drifted back to the dance floor, where the Louisa was now gliding gracefully with Edward, utterly unaware of the vile conversation that had taken place beneath the tree.
Catherine shifted uncomfortably on her perch. A dull, persistent ache in her lower abdomen made her grimace—a reminder of the painful cramps that had plagued her all day. 'Probably serves me right for being such an envious idiot.' - she thought gloomily, shaking her head.
Glancing around to ensure no one was watching, the girl carefully descended from the branch, climbing up the tree before pulling herself onto the wall. Her limbs ached with tension, but she pushed through until she reached her window. With one final effort, the young witch slipped back into the dark sanctuary of her room.
Once inside, Catherine wasted no time. She hurriedly prepared for bed, gulping down her weekly dose of Dreamless Sleep Potion. The bitter taste lingered on her tongue, but the relief was immediate as she felt the promise of rest creeping in. Her head throbbed from the weight of everything she had heard, and she knew she needed a clear mind to decide her next steps. What she had overheard was dangerous, and her father needed to know about it.
But the thought of confessing her eavesdropping made her stomach churn anew. Sneaking so close to the party guests had been reckless, and the consequences of being caught could be severe.
'Maybe Greg can help me pass the information without mentioning it was me who heard it.' - she thought, her eyelids growing heavy – 'He'll be furious, but I'd rather deal with him than face Mom and Dad.'
Down in the garden, Duke Alexander Prince stood near the old apple tree, its gnarled branches half-hidden in the shadows cast by McMahon Castle. He rarely attended such gatherings anymore; the noise and pretence grated on his nerves. Yet, he had made an exception tonight. He couldn't ignore a personal invitation from Louisa McMahon, especially one accompanied by a kind, handwritten message.
While most of the younger fools only saw the mesmerising beauty of a Veela, Alexander had always looked deeper. Long ago, he'd noticed the resilient, headstrong girl beneath the surface—the one who had left everything behind to follow her heart to the cold, unforgiving hills of Scotland. She had endured much for the man she loved, and although Alexander didn't give credence to the sordid rumours about Edward McMahon and Carsilion, he knew well enough that the aristocracy hadn't welcomed Louisa with open arms.
In her struggles, Alexander saw echoes of Eileen's plight—except his daughter had chosen to run away rather than fight for her place in their world. The thought weighed on him, and he sighed, fatigue pressing at his shoulders. There had been no news from her since his surprise visit in the spring. He had hoped that, in time, she might see reason and contact him—not for herself, perhaps, but for the sake of her son.
'Severus…' – Alexander mused, taking a glass of chilled white wine from a passing server – 'He doesn't look like a Prince at all, but I can't deny he has quite a strong air inclination. Should I approach him directly? If Ellie remains stubborn, maybe it's time to change tactics. The boy appears sharp, and surely he must be lacking in many things, given how poor they are. Perhaps I could offer support through Dumbledore. Would he agree to help me with this?'
The wizard's sharp gaze swept over the crowd, his mind wandering to Edward McMahon's son. The two boys were likely of similar age; perhaps the lad could provide some insight about his grandson. However, Greg was nowhere to be found. Instead, his attention shifted to Adrian Borealis, who stood nearby, surrounded by a flock of ladies. The younger Duke met his eyes with a polished smile—one intended to appear polite but laced with a subtle edge that grated on the older man's nerves.
Alexander might have largely withdrawn from the world, but not so much as to ignore the increasingly suspicious activities surrounding Houses Borealis and Redmond. It was clear they were plotting something together, and as Head of the Council, the wizard had a distinct feeling their plans would not benefit the rest of the aristocracy. He knew they considered House Prince irrelevant—practically a relic—and their brazen disregard was evident in the way Adrian and North openly glared at him as he danced with Louisa.
'They'll be in for a big surprise.' – the Duke thought with a smirk, draining his wine in a single motion – 'It won't be so easy to erase Merlin's descendants.'
The thought reignited Alexander's resolve, giving him a surge of energy. It was time to uncover what those arrogant children were scheming—and turn it to the advantage of House Prince and his future heir. The wizard shrouded himself in darkness, a faint ripple of magic rolling through the air. He smiled to himself as Adrian Borealis stiffened. The Air Mage had sensed his use of the spirit of air but, lacking the rare talent of manipulating light himself, could do nothing to track him.
Passing the old apple tree, Duke Prince moved deeper into the McMahon garden, where laughter and the murmurs of tipsy conversations filled the night. Shadows stretched between the hedges and lanterns, providing ample cover as he prowled toward the heart of the gathering.
He paused briefly, glancing up at the branches of the tree he had just walked beneath. For a fleeting moment, he hesitated, the memory of an earlier impression tugging at him.
'No matter how strong one is, old age catches up eventually.' - he mused, shaking his head at his own disbelief – 'I could have sworn I saw a pair of green eyes among those branches. Just goes to show that even an Air Mage's senses aren't infallible.'
With a quiet chuckle at himself, Alexander stepped deeper into the shadows, his mind focused on the task at hand.
Louisa McMahon took a long sip of her coffee, savouring the fresh morning breeze wafting in through the open window. The exhaustion from the previous late night had melted away after a relaxing lavender-infused bath and some much-needed alone time with her husband. Edward now sat across from her, quietly enjoying his tea and reading the newspaper.
"Did you have fun last night, Greg?" – the Duchess asked her son, who was gloomily nibbling on a piece of dry toast – "I hope you didn't sneak a few drinks while your father and I weren't looking."
"I wish I had." – the boy replied sulkily – "Unfortunately, I had to stay sober so I could find decent places to hide throughout the evening. And I thought the girls at Hogwarts were shameless and rude…"
"Don't let them bother you, son." – the Duke said with a knowing smile, setting the newspaper aside – "I'm sure many of them were under strict instructions from their families to capture your attention. Now that you're older, you need to be aware of such tactics. Some of them won't hesitate to play dirty. I'd advise you to be cautious with any food or drink offered to you—love potions are tasteless and odourless."
"Are you serious?" – Greg asked, his blue eyes widening with a hint of desperation.
"Don't worry, sweetie!" – Louisa cooed, gently patting his hand – "I'll personally deal with any wench who tries to trap you into a relationship you don't want."
"That's something I'd love to see!" – Edward chuckled, his gaze softening as it rested on his wife. Louisa pursed her lips, resembling an angry kitten, which only made her husband laugh harder.
Suddenly, a piercing, high-pitched scream echoed through the castle, sharp enough to chill the blood. Louisa leapt to her feet, her heart pounding as she dashed toward her daughter's room, with her husband and son close behind.
'Please, Light!' – she prayed desperately, her thoughts a frantic blur as she took the stairs two at a time – 'Not now! She can't lose to that cursed demon!'
Reaching Catherine's door, the Duchess didn't hesitate. Driven by sheer terror, she unleashed her magic, blasting the door open with a resounding crack. The force sent it swinging wildly before it collapsed, its hinges mangled and broken. Breathless, Louisa froze in the doorway, her wide eyes fixed on the scene before her.
In the middle of the room, just in front of the ornate, full-length cheval mirror stood a tall young woman. She was dressed in a white cotton nightgown that was far too small for her, awkwardly short and tight, clinging to her form and emphasising an elegant yet strikingly well-developed feminine figure. Her black, wavy hair cascaded down her back in glossy waves, framing her poised silhouette.
Louisa's breath caught as her eyes fell on the crimson streaks streaming down the stranger's long, graceful legs. The vivid red of the bloody marks stood out starkly against the smooth porcelain of her skin, creating a chilling and jarring contrast.
The unknown woman turned abruptly, startled by the commotion, and locked her gaze with the other witch. Her high cheekbones gave her a regal, commanding presence, while her flawless, smooth skin seemed to glow softly under the golden light of the morning sun flowing through the window. A straight, slender nose complemented the perfect symmetry of her face. Her full, shapely lips, with a delicate cupid's bow, were the colour of freshly bloomed roses from the McMahons' front garden.
Streams of tears illuminated the woman's cheeks, setting her almond-shaped jade-green eyes aglow like polished gems. Framed by long, dark lashes, they radiated raw emotion—confusion and vulnerability—that brought Louisa out of her daze.
Snapping back to reality, the Duchess spun around, hastily pushing her equally stunned husband and son out of the room. With a flick of her wand, she repaired the door, letting it slam shut in their bewildered faces. Taking a deep breath, Louisa turned back to the sobbing woman and stepped closer.
As she gently embraced her, the blond witch was struck by how tall she had grown—taller than herself now. Stroking the woman's trembling back, she whispered softly, her voice steady but filled with remorse.
"I'm so sorry, my girl!"- she said soothingly - "I should have thought this might happen. I just didn't realise you had enough Veela blood to unlock your powers. But it's going to be alright. Let's get you cleaned up, find you some pads, and then we'll talk. There's so much I need to tell you."