March swept into Hogwarts with biting winds and relentless sheets of rain, driving the students indoors to weather the storm of mounting homework. Catherine sat cross-legged on the floor of the Gryffindor Common Room, scowling at her History of Magic textbook. The words blurred before her eyes, and with a growl, she tossed it aside, casting a longing glance at the crackling fire nearby.
"That's a face I've only ever seen in Professor Binns' class." – James teased, crouching beside her with a steaming cup of tea in hand – "Here, I spiked it with some of Peter's mum's famous anti-nausea remedy."
"You didn't have to, but thanks." – the girl murmured, her voice tinged with exhaustion as she took a sip – "The nausea's easing up anyway. And as a bonus, I'm not fainting as much now."
The young wizard grinned, though concern flickered behind his eyes. "Good to hear. We've got enough to handle without constantly watching to see if you're about to drop."
Catherine leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I checked the potion today. Added the Gryffin claws. If everything goes right, we're a week away from adding the phoenix feather. It has to turn green first, though. Only then can we brew it for the final two weeks. The Mandrake leaves go in just before drinking it, when a thunder storm hits."
"We add the leaves before we drink it?" – the boy asked with curiosity.
"Yes." – the witch nodded – "In a way, it's similar to Polyjuice Potion. You add the piece of the person you want to transform into just before consuming it."
"Sounds disgusting." – James chuckled – "Although holding those leaves under our tongues for a month was no stroll down Diagon Alley either."
"You were the only one who complained all the time." – Catherine remarked nonchalantly – "What I'm currently most concerned with is how to immobilise the bloody tree without people noticing. There's no point in becoming Animagi if the whole school finds out. Not to mention we're doing it illegally."
"I asked Moony about it, but he didn't have a clue." – the boy frowned – "He said Madame Pomfrey used the Freezing Spell, but obviously that doesn't work for us."
"True." – the girl nodded contemplatively – "We shall go and explore. There must be another way. We'll test every spell if we have to."
James glanced out the window. "Well, the rain's finally let up. If we're going to try, let's do it tonight. We'll wait until everyone's asleep, then sneak out under the Invisibility Cloak."
"Where are we going under the Invisibility Cloak?" – Peter asked, sliding down on the floor next to Catherine.
"We're going to check the Whomping Willow." – James replied, eying the young witch who shrugged – "You're staying here. Not enough room for four under the cloak."
"Is Sirius coming?" – the girl asked casually, her eyes fixed on the floor.
"I… think so." – James hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck as if to convince himself. His confidence wavered when Sirius didn't show up before curfew. When he finally strolled in, he flashed them a careless grin and made for the dormitory stairs.
"Hey!" – James called, his tone sharper than intended. Sirius stopped, raising an eyebrow - "You coming with us to check out the damn tree? I told you earlier."
"Ah, sorry, mate, must've missed that." – he replied with an apologetic smile – "Can't it wait? I'm knackered, and we've got Quidditch practice tomorrow."
Catherine's eyes narrowed as she took in his wrinkled robes, messy hair, and the unmistakable hickey on his neck. She clenched her fists, battling the urge to yell at him. Instead, she forced a tight smile at James.
"I'm done waiting." – she announced, striding toward the door – "If Sirius is too tired, Peter will do. It's not like it matters."
She didn't wait for a response, leaving Sirius to stare after her, bewildered. The girl stood outside the Common Room, her back to the portrait hole, until James and Peter joined her moments later. The latter was clutching the Invisibility Cloak, his face tight with irritation.
"This was completely unnecessary." – he muttered as they crept through the dark corridors.
"You think so?" – the girl shot back, sarcasm coating every word – "Lately, Sirius has been so busy snogging Marianne in every broom closet that he's forgotten we exist, let alone that we're trying to become Animagi. Apparently, helping Remus is less important than keeping his hands all over her."
James listened to Catherine's rant in silence. It was better to let her vent now than face the storm if she ever found out the real reason behind Sirius' indifference. He shot a wary glance at Peter, half-expecting him to blurt something out, but to his relief, the other boy stayed quiet. Nevertheless, James felt quite relieved when they finally reached their destination, removed the Invisibility Cloak and concentrated at finding a solution to their immediate problem – the Whomping Willow.
After a brief deliberation, the three friends agreed to attempt a few ways to distract the tree and stop its violent swings. First, James tried levitating a large boulder with the Wingardium Leviosa, hoping to hover it in front of the willow as a distraction while they moved closer. He controlled the rock skilfully, manoeuvring it like a shield. However, the Whomping Willow's branches moved too quickly and smashed the boulder into pieces, sending rocks flying in all directions.
"Well, that went brilliantly." - James grumbled, brushing dirt and pebbles from his robes - "Bloody tree's faster than I thought."
Catherine stepped forward, her eyes narrowing in concentration. "Stupefy!" - she cried, sending a jet of red light toward the Willow. For a split second, the branches froze, and hope flickered in her eyes. But then, with a shudder, the tree lashed out again, one branch snapping dangerously close to Peter.
"Stunning it is definitely out." - she muttered, stepping back in frustration.
"Maybe it just needs a lullaby?" - Peter suggested with a sheepish grin. Both James and Catherine shot him exasperated glares.
"Yeah, or maybe we can offer it a nice belly rub." - James snapped, rolling his eyes - "Honestly, Peter, you'll end up worse off than Davey."
"We're out of ideas." - Catherine sighed, lowering her wand - "We'll need to do some research. I really thought the Stunning Spell might work, but... no luck. We'll have to ask around discreetly and see if there's another solution."
With heavy hearts, the trio trudged back to the castle, their feet dragging across the damp ground. They veered toward a shortcut by the Black Lake, the air around them thick with silence and tension.
"Shall we put the cloak back on?" – Peter asked nervously.
"There's nobody around." – James replied confidently – "It's hard enough to walk under it with the three of us."
"Did you hear that?" – Catherine whispered, stopping abruptly – "Sounds like... splashing. It's coming from over there."
The fourth-years crept toward the lake's shore, the cold night air prickling their skin as they pushed aside the dense bushes. Ahead, soft, glowing orbs hovered in the darkness, casting a pale light over a tall, blond wizard in elegant blue robes, who was watching Greg McMahon struggle to draw streams of water from the lake and hurl them at a line of rocks.
"You need to put much more force into this in order to break a rock." – the man instructed, crossing his arms as he scrutinised the shallow dents on the stone.
"That's as much as I can manage." – Greg responded, struggling to catch his breath – "It's easier if I freeze the water first."
"Freezing won't help break the rock and you'd need to be much more precise when aiming it." – Edward McMahon replied sharply, his ocean-blue eyes narrowing as he surveyed their surroundings – "I feel an odd fluctuation in the magic. Who's there?"
James stiffened, glancing at his friends. "Now what?" - he whispered, panic creeping into his voice.
"Step into the light so we can see you." – the Duke commanded, his voice cold and authoritative. His wand was suddenly in his hand, aimed toward the bushes.
Slowly, the three students emerged into the circle of light. Greg's eyes widened in shock. "What are you all doing here after curfew?" - he demanded, his tone accusatory.
James crossed his arms, trying to mask his uncertainty. "I could ask you the same." - he shot back, realising now that the man before them was McMahon's father.
"You have no right to ask me anything." – the fifth-year growled, irritation flashing through his face – "I'm a Prefect, and you should be in bed by now!"
"Then we would have missed meeting such a celebrity!" - Catherine interjected, her voice icy. She ignored Greg entirely, her jade-green eyes fixed on the Duke. Her hands were clenched into fists, trembling slightly at her sides.
Edward hesitated, taken aback by her fierce glare. Sensing the rising tension, Greg stepped forward, a pleading look on his face. "Before anyone starts spreading rumours, this is my father—Duke Edward McMahon." - he explained quickly, gesturing to the older wizard - "He's here with Dumbledore's permission to teach me elemental magic. Dad, these are my fellow Gryffindors who seem to have forgotten the meaning of curfew: James Potter, Peter Pettigrew, and Catherine Plantier."
The Duke inclined his head, his eyes flickering over the boys with a mixture of curiosity and caution. "A pleasure to meet you." - he said, though his gaze briefly lingered on Catherine, struggling to gauge her anger.
"Oh, do mind your manners, boys!" - Catherine sneered - "Bow before His Grace, the Duke!"
"There's no need for that." – Edward said awkwardly, unsure of what had sparked his daughter's evident hostility.
"Oh, but we insist, Your Grace!" - Catherine retorted, her voice dripping with mockery. She dropped into an exaggerated curtsy, her eyes never leaving his face - "I'm so ashamed that we had no idea you were here so often. If we'd known, we would have arranged a proper welcome. But you understand, right, Your Grace?"
James stared at her, bewildered by her unusual behaviour. "What are you doing? Are you seriously trying to pick a fight with an aristocrat?" - he leaned closer and whispered.
"Ne t'inquiète pas. Il s'en fout! S'il s'en souciait, il aurait essayé de me voir au moins une fois étant ici si souvent!"[1] – the girl shouted, her voice breaking. Angry tears filled her eyes as she turned sharply on her heel and bolted toward the castle.
"What does this mean?" – James asked, dumbfounded – "Flame?! Bloody hell, what happened?"
He sprinted after her, with a worried and equally confused Peter close behind. Greg stood frozen, stunned by his sister's outburst.
The Duke remained silent for a moment, staring after his daughter with a pained expression. Finally, in a low voice, he asked. "Am I such a bad father, Greg?"
Greg hesitated, his gaze shifting to his father's anguished face. "I don't think you are." - he said thoughtfully - "But I'm not the one you should be asking."
Edward sighed, running a hand through his blond hair. "Let's call it a night." - he muttered - "I'll walk you back to the castle."
The father and son had long vanished into the shadows when Severus Snape finally crept out from his hiding spot. He pushed his way through the dense branches, his face marred by scratches and his hair matted with dirt and leaves.
'Damn girl!' – he thought with irritation – 'Nearly broke my wrist ducking out of sight when she stormed through.'
Severus had spent almost an hour observing the lesson. While following Greg McMahon to fulfil the task assigned by Lucius, he couldn't help but be fascinated by the use of elemental magic, wondering if he could learn it himself. He had been thinking about it ever since Lily mentioned it, and it was yet another thing he envied the young lord for.
Lost in thought, he nearly jumped out of his skin when Potter and his gang appeared out of nowhere. Typical of them, sneaking around and breaking rules. What puzzled Severus, though, was Plantier's sudden hostility toward the Duke. Her sharp words and emotional outburst made no sense to him. There had to be a hidden meaning in her strange tirade, but he'd been too far away to catch every word.
Then she bolted, moving so fast that he had to dive behind a bush to avoid being trampled. "Bloody reckless, all of them." - he muttered bitterly as he adjusted his robes, brushing off dirt and debris. Potter and Pettigrew had obviously dashed after her, not far behind.
Finally, he straightened his clothes as best he could and headed toward the castle. It was time to call it a night. 'All things considered,' - he thought as he slipped through the Entrance Hall and down to the Dungeons – 'the strangest part of all was that Black wasn't with them.'
[1] Don't worry. He doesn't care! If he did he would have tried to see me at least once being here so often!
Severus adjusted the frayed strap of his battered school bag, half-expecting it to snap under the weight of his heavy books. He could only hope that the information about Greg McMahon's secret meetings with his father would be valuable enough for Lucius to send him some money. With that, he planned to invest in a new bag—and, if there was anything left over, a few pieces of clothing.
The real problem was getting the message to Malfoy. He was instructed not to contact him directly and the fourth-year had no idea when he might see his former housemate next. An inconvenience, especially since Severus desperately needed a few Sickles for a new quill. He had patched up his old, broken one with Spellotape, but it was far from sturdy, and writing with it was an exercise in frustration.
As he made his way from the Ancient Runes classroom to the Great Hall for dinner, the young wizard couldn't help but think about how much he longed for a proper, high-quality quill—like the one Plantier had lent him the day his had broken. The image of the black-haired girl's tear-streaked face flickered in his mind. He had no idea why she'd been crying that time, and, in all honesty, he didn't care. Yet, something about the sight of her jade-green eyes, red and swollen with tears, filled him with a strange, almost ecstatic thrill. It was a confusing sensation, one he didn't have the energy to analyse. To him, Catherine Plantier was merely a nuisance. Unlike Potter and Black, she was tolerable when she kept her mouth shut, but he still wished he could avoid every single Gryffindor—especially Greg McMahon.
Severus sighed heavily, his pace slowing. The cuts from his recent skirmish with the aristocrat had faded, but his pride remained bruised. True to his Slytherin nature, he had pretended to accept Lily's ultimatum about not meddling in her relationship and being happy for her. But pretending and feeling were worlds apart.
'Like I could ever accept her being with another guy!' – the wizard scoffed inwardly – 'I just need to be patient. He can't possibly appreciate the gem Lily is. He'll break up with her eventually, and I'll be there to comfort her.'
A twinge of guilt crept into his thoughts, forcing him to question if taking advantage of Lily's impending heartbreak was truly the right course. But his longing to be with her was too strong, pushing any doubts about his methods aside. In his ideal scenario, she would fall head over heels for him, but deep down, he knew better. His looks, his personality—none of it would ever be enough.
A darker thought slithered into his mind, bringing an image of his mother with it. The idea of manipulating Lily struck a disturbing chord.
'It's not the same!' – he reassured himself, a surge of panic in his chest – 'Lily is not your mother, and you're not your father.'
The mere thought of Tobias Snape twisted Severus' stomach. It felt unreal that the man was gone. Part of him felt a cold, vengeful satisfaction, a release from years of torment. Yet, another part of him couldn't shake the nagging question: Did I kill him? The possibility gnawed at his conscience, each memory of that day sending fresh waves of anxiety through him.
By now, Severus had come to realise that he could somehow control the wind, though the power was erratic and unpredictable. He was no Elementalist, so it had to be something else. But the truth remained: when his emotions overwhelmed him, he became dangerous. And that lack of control terrified him. The more he thought about it, the tighter the knot in his chest became, threatening to spiral him into further panic.
Fighting the urge to vomit, heart hammering in his chest, the Slytherin stumbled into the nearest boys' bathroom. Cold sweat slicked his skin as he splashed handfuls of icy water onto his face, gasping for breath. The shock of the water seemed to help; his pulse gradually slowed. After a few deep breaths, he glanced into the mirror, reassuring himself that he looked no different than usual.
Just as he turned to leave, a faint noise caught his attention. Severus froze, straining his ears. The sound had come from one of the stalls. Cautiously, he approached, peeking inside.
His stomach twisted.
Lily lay sprawled on the grimy floor, her limbs magically bound and her lips sealed shut. She was half-covered in what appeared to be the toilet's contents, completely helpless. Her clothes were dishevelled, and her face and neck were smeared with slurs, scrawled in a brownish-red lipstick: slut, cunt, scrubber. A muffled noise came from her throat, the only sound she could make.
Severus' heart plummeted. Horror, rage, and a sickening fear surged through him. He yanked out his wand, his hands trembling. What if someone else had found her like this? His eyes locked with hers, green and wide with pain, terror, and tears. It felt like a physical blow to his gut. He needed to do something—anything—but he was paralysed. All he wanted was to comfort her, to hold her tight and tell her she was safe. But what if he made things worse? What if he frightened her even more?
'I need help!' – the wizard thought in utter panic and bolted out of the bathroom like a madman. He sprinted down the corridor, rounded a corner, and nearly collided with Catherine Plantier, who was trudging toward the Great Hall, her eyes fixed on a piece of parchment.
"Quickly!" - he panted, grabbing her wrist and yanking her in the direction he'd come from - "You have to come with me!"
"Are you fucking nuts?!" – Catherine snapped, stumbling as she tried to pull away, but his grip was iron-strong.
"Lily's hurt!" – he choked out, his voice almost breaking. That was enough. The girl stopped resisting, her expression shifting from irritation to shock as she followed him without another word, not even hesitating when he dragged her into the boys' bathroom.
She quickly assessed the situation, drew her wand and pointed it towards the other girl. "Finite Incantatem!"
Lily's limbs twitched as she slowly regained control, her mouth opening with a weak whimper that quickly turned into sobs. Catherine knelt down and wrapped her arms around her friend, unfazed by the mess on Lily's clothes. She patted her back gently, whispering calming words until the redhead's sobs began to subside.
"Snape, make yourself useful. Find a cloth or something to clean her face." – Catherine commanded, her voice like a whip – "It's alright, Lils. Not like it's the first time they've left you helpless in a bathroom, is it?"
"Shut up!" – Severus hissed as he returned with a wet piece of cloth, the torn remnant of his own shirt – "How can you be so cruel to her after everything she's been through?"
To his surprise, Lily let out a shaky laugh through her tears. "It's fine, Sev." - she said, managing a brave smile - "Daisy's right. They try to break us, but they won't succeed. This is nothing."
Catherine shot Snape a smirk as she carefully wiped away the degrading words from Lily's face. The Slytherin watched in disbelief. What kind of crazy attitude was that? He might have expected it from Plantier, but not from Lily. As the immediate panic began to fade, anger surged inside him, threatening to boil over.
"Who did this to you?" – he asked quietly, his voice so soft that it sent a shiver down Catherine's spine. She glanced at the boy and froze; his face was ashen, with lips drained of colour. His black eyes glinted with a darkness that seemed to reach deep into the abyss.
"Some of your lovely housemates, who else?" – Lily replied bitterly – "I've never thought girls could be so cruel to other girls."
"But why?" – Catherine demanded, already running through potential revenge plans in her mind – "Is it because of that Muggle-born bullshit again?"
"Partially." – the other witch muttered, her eyes cast downward – "I think it's more about a Mudblood like me daring to date an aristocrat who 'deserves' a pure-blood girlfriend. I'd assume one of them…"
"I knew it!" – Severus snarled, his voice trembling with rage – "Being with McMahon will only bring you trouble!"
"Cut it out!" - Catherine snapped, turning on him with fire in her eyes – "Who were they? I'm sure Lavinia was part of this! Who else?"
"Drusilla Rosier and Aelia Greengrass." – Lily admitted hesitantly – "But it doesn't matter. I'm not giving them the satisfaction of playing their game. And promise me you won't tell Greg. He'll be livid."
"More than him?" – the other girl asked, tilting her head toward Snape, who had leapt to his feet, murder blazing in his eyes. Before either Gryffindor could react, he stormed out of the bathroom, wand in hand.
'It's strange when he's that mad at other people and not me.' – Catherine thought with a smirk, as she and Lily made their way back to Gryffindor Tower.
For weeks, Catherine regretted not going straight to dinner that night. On one hand, she had needed to help Lily get safely to their dormitory and change, but on the other, she missed what everyone was calling the most spectacular scene of the year. Apparently, Snape had stormed into the Great Hall and hit Lavinia Nott with a curse that made angry, red pimples erupt across her face, spelling out the word "Bitch." Without missing a beat, he had then marched to the Slytherin common room and did the same to Drusilla and Aelia.
The backlash in Slytherin House had been immediate. His housemates were both stunned and furious that Snape had attacked his own—and for a Mudblood, no less. Several senior Slytherins tried to force him to lift the curse, but he refused outright.
Catherine had to admit, she understood his reaction. She would have done the same. And truth be told, she was thoroughly enjoying seeing one of Hogwarts' so-called beauties caked in layers of makeup that couldn't hide the shameful word scrawled across her skin. Still, she couldn't help but feel a pang of relief that Snape hadn't tested that curse on her first.
'I should be more careful around him in the future.' - she thought – 'He's not one to mess around with.'
During their next Ancient Runes class, Catherine itched to ask the boy if Lily would be safe amid the escalating confrontation. But she had no idea how to start. The only time she ever spoke to him was to trade insults.
She glanced over at the wizard, hunched over his notebook, scribbling furiously with his broken quill that wobbled and left blotchy ink spots. His long, greasy hair hung over his face, masking all but the sharp curve of his hooked nose.
The girl took a deep breath, wracking her brain for a way to start a normal conversation with someone who truly hated her. She glanced at Snape again and froze. His right sleeve had slipped up as he wrote, exposing a line of blue bruises against his pale skin.
"Is this because you cursed Lavinia and her friends?" – she whispered, her fingers moving instinctively to trace the bruises on Snape's wrist.
The wizard recoiled at her touch, his face draining of colour as he stared at the Gryffindor in disbelief. Realising they were still in the middle of class, he yanked his hand away, retreating as far as his chair would allow.
"It's none of your concern." - he hissed through gritted teeth.
"It is." – Catherine disagreed – "If they're this brutal with you, what do you think will happen to Lily if you keep refusing to lift the curse?"
"Nothing will happen to Lily." – Snape replied coldly, his eyes darkening – "I'll never let her be in danger. I'm not that fool McMahon. If they so much as look at her with malice, what I did to Lavinia will seem merciful."
Catherine nodded silently, at a loss for how to respond. As the class came to an end, the boy gathered his books and left without a single word or backward glance.
That Saturday, Catherine couldn't shake off thoughts of the incident or how brutal the Slytherins were to each other. It bothered her more than she wanted to admit. The black-haired girl was sitting in the courtyard with Remus and James, savouring one of the rare dry moments that month.
"You're doing it again." – James muttered, his irritation breaking the peaceful silence.
"Doing what?"- the young witch blinked, snapping out of her thoughts.
"Spacing out." – the boy snapped, casting a glance at Remus, who simply shrugged, unbothered by the quiet.
"I've got a lot on my mind." – she mumbled, unwilling to delve into details.
"Oh, you mean your little showdown with Duke McMahon?" – James quipped, his tone deliberately casual, though the curiosity was impossible to miss.
"It wasn't a showdown." – the witch replied evenly, her eyes fixed on the cobblestones – "Like I said, I'm just sick of pure-bloods getting all the privileges while Muggle-borns like me get targeted everywhere in this damn school."
The tense conversation was interrupted by Sirius and Marianne, who appeared holding hands and grinning goofily, only adding to Catherine's already sour mood.
"Why are you all looking like someone just unleashed a horde of Cornish Pixies?" – Sirius quipped as he sank onto a stone bench beside James, pulling the giggling Marianne onto his lap.
"That's oddly specific, mate." – James muttered, his laugh coming out strained. His eyes flicked to Catherine, who sat stiffly, her face locked in an expression of blank indifference.
"So, what's new around here?" – the grey-eyed boy asked with a grin – "Feels like I've missed quite a bit, but, you know, we've been... occupied."
"Don't say such things!" – Marianne chided, playfully smacking his hand. Sirius responded by drawing her into a heated kiss, completely unbothered by their audience.
Catherine's stomach twisted. She stood up so abruptly, forcing a smile under Remus's concerned gaze, and cleared her throat. "Well, as fun as this has been, I need to go."
"Go? Where?" - James asked, eyebrows knitting together. The girl's voice came out louder than she intended, nearly cracking.
"I have a date to get ready for! See you around." She turned on her heel before anyone could respond, practically fleeing towards the castle.
"What date?!" - James shouted after her, his confusion echoing off the stone walls, but his classmate was already halfway across the courtyard.
'I can't believe I've sunk so low as to lie about a date.' – she fumed, racing up the stairs without a destination in mind - 'But I couldn't watch them snog any longer At this point, it's hard to tell if they're kissing or trying to clean each other. Absolutely revolting!'
The young witch shook her head, a mix of anger and frustration churning inside her. Leaving was the right call—staying any longer, and she might've lashed out at Sirius, Marianne, or both. But lying about going out with someone felt both humiliating and inconvenient, since it meant she couldn't return to the Common Room for a while.
For a brief moment, she considered checking on the potion in the Room of Requirement, but what good would that do? Standing around staring at a bubbling cauldron in her current state would only make her agitation worse. The truth was, there weren't many options. The young witch could retreat to the library and bury herself in books—likely deserted now with most older students in Hogsmeade, where they were allowed to visit monthly, unlike the third- and fourth-years.
Then an idea sparked. Catherine veered left, quickening her pace until she reached a grand mirror. Running her fingers along the ornate wooden frame, she found the hidden knob and twisted it. The mirror creaked forward, revealing just enough space for her to slip behind it and enter the passageway her brother had shown her weeks ago.
'Maybe I can use this chance to find a gift for Remus' birthday.' – the girl thought as she descended into the dark, damp underground path. The air was cool and smelled faintly of earth, each step echoing in the narrow corridor. It eventually opened up into a small crypt within the Hogsmeade graveyard. Catherine shivered, thinking how much she preferred the Honeydukes passage, as she quickly shut the iron gates behind her.
Stepping onto High Street, a thrill of exhilaration washed over the young witch, the fresh scent of rebellion sharpening her senses. To her surprise, she found herself enjoying the solitude. No one paid her any attention as she wandered from shop to shop, pausing occasionally to peer into a window. At Charms & Cozies, a sale sign caught her eye, and she couldn't resist a delightful enchanted blanket made of Yeti fur—self-warming, self-cleaning, and woven with a calming charm.
Pleased with her purchase, the girl decided to stop by The Three Broomsticks for a sandwich and butterbeer. She had just reached for the handle when the door suddenly swung open. Catherine stumbled back, nearly losing her balance as she came face-to-face with Adrian Borealis, who was leaving the pub, trailed by another wizard who was carrying several boxes.
The blood drained from her face. Her heart hammered violently, each beat a deafening crash in her ears, drowning out every other sound. Nausea twisted in the girl's stomach, and her legs threatened to buckle beneath her as she stared at the aristocrat, horror freezing her in place.
The Duke cast a casual glance over the figure before him. With her short black hair and slight frame, she could have easily been mistaken for a scrawny boy, a sight that made his lip curl in disdain. Adrian liked to surround himself with beauty, revelling in elegance and despising anything that fell short of his lofty standards. His face hardened, eyes narrowing as his lips pressed into a thin, displeased line. For a brief, tempting moment, he considered using magic to clear his path, but restrained himself. Doing so would risk Dumbledore's wrath and potentially provoke Raven O'Dargan into accusing him of interfering with wizarding education.
Instead, he snapped his fingers, a silent command that his assistant, Victor, obeyed immediately. The man stepped forward, shoving Catherine aside without a second thought, clearing the way for the Duke.
"Make way for His Grace, girl!" – Victor demanded firmly – "Hogwarts students these days have no manners."
"I wouldn't go that far." – Adrian chuckled as he walked past Catherine, barely sparing her a glance – "It's a community school, after all. The bar is quite low. Explains why McMahon sent his son here, I suppose."
Catherine felt a hot rush of blood flood back into her face. The fear melted away, replaced by a searing anger that threatened to consume her. She wanted nothing more than to set that smug, arrogant bastard on fire.
"What are you doing?" – the other wizard shouted, shoving the witch roughly – "I told you to move back!"
Adrian paused mid-stride, irritation flickering in his eyes as he glanced over his shoulder. Something wasn't right. The air around him felt thick, almost electric, like it was charged with raw power. It made the hair on his neck stand on end. He turned to look at the girl again, his brow furrowing. Was this energy coming from her? She looked positively furious, eyes blazing with a rage that didn't match her small, skinny frame.
For a split second, the aristocrat thought of Louisa at the party at his house last summer. Of course, this girl looked nothing like her; it was probably the colour of her eyes that reminded him of the Duchess. Still, the wizard felt a surge of curiosity. He was about to turn back and approach Victor and the student when a heavy rain began pouring out of nowhere, drenching everyone in an instant.
The unmistakable sense of the soul of the water enveloped the aristocrat, who turned slowly, a cold smile curling his lips. Greg McMahon stood less than two meters away, his eyes gleaming in blue and, despite the downpour, remaining perfectly dry.
Duke Borealis tapped into the spirit of air, weaving an intricate web of currents around himself. The rainwater was instantly deflected, and a warm gust dried his clothes and hair in moments.
"I see you're becoming quite the Water Mage." – Adrian drawled mockingly – "Pity you've taken after your father, especially in not knowing when to stop with these ridiculous pranks. Do you really think I'm one to laugh this off, or do you foolishly believe you're strong enough to challenge me?"
"Neither." – Greg replied calmly – "I know I don't stand a chance against you right now. But I also know the Council wouldn't be thrilled to hear about you bullying Hogwarts students."
The Duke blinked, momentarily caught off guard as he recalled the girl's presence. She stood soaked to the bone beside Victor, who was equally drenched. Adrian's lips twisted into a condescending grin. "Is that your concern?" - he sneered - "First of all, this is Hogsmeade. Surely you're aware that my ancestors founded this village? And secondly, asking the young lady to step aside hardly constitutes bullying."
"I wasn't aware 'asking' involved shoving someone." – the boy shot back frostily – "And while your ancestors might have founded Hogsmeade, it isn't your property. You are required to abide by the same rules as everyone else."
"You're walking on thin ice, Lord McMahon." – the Duke hissed, his patience fraying – "I might be forced to address your insolence in a more formal setting. After all, you've used elemental magic in a hostile manner against the Head of another House."
"Oh, I didn't know a little rain counted as hostility, Your Grace!" - A sly, Slytherin glimmer crossed Greg's eyes as he gave a knowing smirk - "Then again, such an inquiry might raise some interesting questions. Like why you're trying to intimidate a Muggle-born student at a time when people like her are being targeted by the self-proclaimed Lord. That could make things very complicated between Hogwarts and the Council, don't you think? Duke O'Dargan might view it as you encroaching on his domain."
The air currents intensified suddenly, swirling into a vortex that chased away the clouds, halting the downpour within seconds. Greg staggered back, gasping for breath, his eyes returning to their natural ocean-blue. Adrian Borealis watched him with a lazy smile, savouring the disturbed expression on Edward McMahon's son.
"Give my best regards to Duke McMahon." – the wizard said casually, gesturing for his assistant to follow – "I look forward to discussing your time at Hogwarts and all the 'friends' you've made there. I must admit, though, you've fallen short of expectations. At least your father has better taste in women."
With one last, contemptuous glance at Catherine, Adrian and Victor disapparated with a sharp crack. The young witch stood there, dripping wet, but that didn't trouble her nearly as much as the look on her brother's face—shock, anger, and sheer disappointment.
"Greg…I…" – she began, but the fifth-year grabbed her arm, dragging her, until they reached the Hog's Head and sneaked around the corner, into its secluded, grimy backyard.
"I suppose there's no point asking why you're here when you were supposed to be in the castle." - he muttered, avoiding her gaze - "I know you don't care about the risks Mom, Dad, and I take to keep you safe. But I had hoped you'd at least be smart enough to do it for your own sake."
"That's not true!" – Catherine stuttered, her face flushing – "I wasn't trying to put myself in danger! I just needed to get out. How was I supposed to know I'd run into him? It could've happened during one of my authorised visits, too!"
"No, it couldn't have!" - Greg snapped, his voice trembling with rage - "After last time, we took extra precautions. But we weren't prepared today because we had no idea you'd be here!"
"Stop talking about my life like I'm some toddler who needs constant supervision!" – the young witch hissed, irritated - "Nothing happened! It was just a stupid coincidence."
"You're worse than a toddler!" - Greg sneered, his face twisted in fury - "At least a toddler stays in a playpen! I can't believe how reckless you are! And the worst part? You have no remorse! When will you accept that you don't know everything and that your judgment isn't always right?!"
"I never said I knew everything!" - she shot back, her eyes blazing a bright green - "But it's a lot more than you ever give me credit for!"
"You know what?" - Greg yelled, his voice raw with anger - "I'm done cutting you slack because of your 'special circumstances.' You're not the only one who's had it rough! I've seen you show restraint with others, but never with me or at home! I'm sick of being blamed for 'mistreating' you when all I've ever done is be a loving, supportive brother!"
A nearby puddle erupted, sending chunks of ice hurtling toward Catherine. She reacted instinctively, summoning a wall of red flames to melt the ice to steam. But before she could catch her breath, a powerful gust of wind swept her off her feet, flinging her to the ground. A thud and Greg's muffled cry followed as he was tossed aside in a similar fashion.
"What in Merlin's name do you think you're doing?!" – Carter Thorne's furious voice boomed through the backyard.
Catherine pushed herself off the ground, her gaze locking onto her teacher. She had never seen such fury in him before. His face had gone deep red, a twitch visible in his right cheek. His eyes still shimmered with silver, and a fresh gust of wind circled her, drying her clothes completely. Startled, the young witch let out a surprised yelp, glancing at Greg, who had also gotten back up and now stared at the ground.
"Is anyone going to answer me?" – the teacher yelled, his rage barely contained, his eyes darting between the boy and the girl, neither of whom dared to raise their heads – "Using elemental magic to attack each other! Do you have any idea how dangerous and irresponsible that is? I can't believe two... two housemates could have such a disagreement that they'd resort to this kind of violence!"
"Nobody's hurt… Sir." – Catherine finally found the courage to say.
"Really, Miss Plantier?" – Thorne snapped, his blue eyes boring into her – "So, in your opinion, any spell is acceptable as long as no one gets hurt? I will speak with Dumbledore about your training and general discipline! And what are you even doing here in the first place? Unless you've somehow skipped a year, I don't see any reason for you to be in Hogsmeade."
The young witch lowered her eyes, deciding not to argue. There was no point—she was guilty, and she felt foolish over the entire situation, especially considering Professor Thorne was unaware of her encounter with Adrian Borealis.
"You're unusually quiet." – the Professor remarked, now looking at Greg, who remained silent – "Is there any other rule-breaking you're trying to hide?"
"No, Sir." – the girl answered, only for her brother to let out a bitter chuckle.
"Except the fact you nearly used true fire against Adrian Borealis, right?" – he asked mockingly, and Catherine's eyes widened in shock.
"What?!" – Thorne exclaimed, his face twisting in horror, his eyes growing round as his mouth hung open for a moment – "Detention! For a month! And be thankful it's not longer!"
"But…" – Catherine began to protest.
"I warned you about provoking His Grace, and you didn't listen!" – he hissed, his voice dangerously low – "It seems you need a different kind of persuasion, but rest assured, I will make this lesson sink in. Now, go back to the castle immediately! I will speak with both Professor McGonagall and the Headmaster!"
The girl pressed her lips in anger, but guilt seemed to overpower her as she turned and departed in silence. Carsilion ran his hand over his face, completely at a loss for how to handle the situation.
"I don't think he knows who she is." – Greg said with a sigh – "I tried my best to provoke him enough to focus all his attention on me."
"That much was obvious. I felt what he did from the other end of the village." – the man growled – "I understand why you acted in such manner, but this could have ended very badly for you."
"Better that than Catherine setting him on fire." – the boy replied with a sad smile – "When I arrived, the air was so charged with power it was impossible not to notice something was wrong. And it was strange too—I've never felt true fire before. It's completely different from the other elements."
"It is." – Carsilion agreed with a nod – "Since Fire Mages are so rare, most of us aren't used to them. I remember being overwhelmed the first time I met Dumbledore. I think I was a few years older than you."
"What are we going to do about her?" – the fifth-year asked tentatively.
"Unfortunately, I'm about to turn her life into hell." – the man sighed in turn – "It's for her own good. She can't just go wherever she pleases. Adrian might be a jackass, but he's not stupid. I don't want to challenge him by giving him a puzzle to solve."
"Good!" – Greg said coldly, earning a surprised look from his teacher – "Make sure this lesson is drilled into her thick skull once and for all!"
"Are you sure you're alright?" – the older wizard asked, concerned. This reaction was unexpected from Greg, who had always been calm, collected, and fiercely protective of his sister.
"I'm fine." – Greg snapped, turning away, his voice catching slightly – "But sometimes, you have to hurt the ones you love to keep them safe."
The flickering firelight danced across the grand silver mirror mounted on the opposite wall. It was an intricate piece, pristine and untouched by time, forged from Goblin Silver. At the top of the ornate frame, a bold letter 'B' was prominently displayed, surrounded by wings and armour. At the base, the words "Fortuna Favet Audaci" [2] were etched in graceful script.
Deep blue velvet drapes hung gracefully beside the tall windows, allowing soft natural light to spill into the room, catching on the silver accents—from the delicate inlays on the mahogany bookshelves to the ornate candle holders adorning the polished desk. Behind the desk stood a grand armchair, upholstered in rich blue leather made from Kraken hide, a detail only discernible to those with a keen eye.
Duke Adrian Borealis lay comfortably on a plush, deep-cushioned sofa near the window. One arm rested casually over his head, the other across his chest, his long legs crossed at the ankles. His tie hung loose, and the top three buttons of his white shirt were undone, lending him an air of relaxed elegance.
A discreet knock on the door broke the quiet, and Victor entered, carrying a bottle of dark, smoky glass, its neck sealed with a wax emblem. Adrian opened his topaz-blue eyes, glancing at his assistant before gesturing toward one of the chairs in front of the desk.
"Have a seat." - he ordered curtly - "I need you to send a few letters."
"Yes, Your Grace!" – the other man replied with a bow, placing the bottle on a small table beside the sofa. Adrian stood, opened the bottle, and poured the amber liquid into two crystal tumblers. His eyes flashed silver for a moment as he used a subtle gust of air to chill the whiskey to perfection.
"I've always thought it a shame to dilute a quality drink with ice." – he said with a smirk, handing one of the glasses to Victor – "You'll find that Dragon's Breath Reserve has a distinctive smoky flavour - aged for at least 30 years in dragon-charred oak casks."
"It's an honour!" – the assistant replied, taking a tentative sip – "The flavour is truly refined indeed."
"Naturally." – the Duke smiled, his gaze fixed on his glass – "Everything I own is refined. I wouldn't accept anything less."
"Shall I send a formal complaint to Duke Prince regarding today's incident?" – Victor asked, pulling out a small notebook and pen – "I believe there's still room on next week's Council meeting agenda."
"No." – Adrian replied, moving to stand by the window, his eyes on the purple hues of the spring dusk outside – "They won't punish McMahon's brat for something so trivial. Edward and his boy-toy Carsilion will frame it as a harmless teenage prank, and I'll end up looking overly sensitive. It's not the image I want."
"So, you're letting it slide?" – the other wizard asked, his voice laced with disbelief.
"Don't they say revenge is a dish best served cold?" – the Duke smirked, settling behind his desk – "For now, we'll just watch. Our plans are already in motion anyway. Which reminds me—write back to Marquise Redmond and agree to the proposed meeting. And has Whiters replied yet? I don't like how Louisa McMahon comes and goes from Blazewood Manor as she pleases. It's suspicious."
"She is very close to Marchioness Whiters." – Victor remarked – "It's probably another elaborated scheme to capture His Lordship's attention."
"Hah!" – the Duke chuckled – "Speaking of lost causes. Lauren probably pays attention, but not to poor Leona. Our dear Duchess, on the other hand, fits perfectly into his kink for non-humans. Still, I want more information on this budding friendship between McMahon and Whiters. I don't like surprises."
"I'll look into it, Your Grace." – the other man nodded, jotting a note in his book – "Perhaps one of the young masters could handle this. They're of similar age to the Whiters' children, and it's not unusual for Academy peers to visit one another."
"Try something else." – Adrian scoffed condescendingly – "Unfortunately, my sons are hardly dependable for anything beyond their own indulgences. Genetics played a cruel joke, giving them their mother's brains. Although, at the end of the day, the joke's on me."
"Lady Delilah was here this morning." – Victor mentioned suddenly, watching his employer's reaction – "Apparently, young Sebastien jumped from their balcony when left unattended, but managed to glide safely to the ground."
The Duke arched an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "A remarkably strong inclination toward air at such a young age! He's only four! Still, it could have ended badly. Remind my dear cousin Thelonius that I expect proper care to be taken for his son."
"Certainly, Your Grace." – the assistant replied, a cold smile on his lips – "Would there be anything else?"
"You may go." – Adrian gestured dismissively, then paused – "Ah, one last thing - send a note to Abraxas Malfoy regarding the task assigned to him. I want a full report on Greg McMahon's activities. Where he goes, who he meets, every friend and enemy he has at Hogwarts. We can't be too cautious about that wretched family. I have an unpleasant feeling they're planning something."
Victor bowed and exited, leaving the Duke alone with his half-empty glass. Adrian stared at the amber liquid, attempting to organise his scattered thoughts. Eventually, he sighed, draining the glass in one go, still finding it impossible to focus. Despite himself, his mind kept drifting back to Louisa McMahon, her jade-green eyes lingering vividly in his thoughts.
[2] Fortune favours the brave.