*The name of the chapter comes from Latin, meaning 'blank slate', it often refers to the idea of starting fresh, without any preconceptions, biases, or prior knowledge.
Greg McMahon placed his suitcase carefully at the bottom of the luggage pile, waiting for it to be picked up and loaded onto the Hogwarts Express. Most of his classmates were already in front of the castle, chattering excitedly, but he lingered behind, savouring a moment of solitude. Going home for the holidays was a welcome change, and he looked forward to being back in his room, painting or reading in peace.
A sudden burst of noise announced the arrival of their transportation to Hogsmeade. With a deep, steadying breath, the young aristocrat prepared himself mentally for the noisy trip to London. His family name came with certain unavoidable "perks," including people's relentless curiosity about his life and the constant stream of would-be "friends." The insincerity of it all grated on him. Many of these so-called friends were transparent in their ambitions, but there were always a few who had, to his dismay, hidden their motives well. It stung to realise that people he'd thought of as genuine companions often had agendas of their own.
At times, he envied Catherine. She had her own challenges, certainly, but at least she didn't have to question the loyalty of those around her. Though he didn't particularly approve of the boys —who, for reasons he'd never quite understood, couldn't stand him—at least they didn't care about their family's influence or wealth. Greg had thought Hogwarts would be a reprieve from these games, a break from the alliances and schemes he would have faced at the Academy, but alas, his family's status was inescapable. The one small mercy was that at Hogwarts, he didn't have to constantly navigate the manipulations of people like Adrian Borealis' insufferable sons.
With a resigned sigh, the fifth-year finally turned toward the waiting carriages. Just then, a sharp tug on his sleeve made him jump. Catherine stood there, rolling her eyes before yanking him into a recessed alcove, out of sight of the passing students.
"Come to say goodbye to your big brother?" – Greg asked with a grin that only widened as he noticed his sister's frown.
"Yeah, right." – she snapped, folding her arms impatiently – "Getting ahold of you has been nearly impossible these past few days."
"I've been busy wrapping things up before the holidays." – the boy replied, his smile fading as he realised the conversation he'd been dreading was about to unfold.
"Don't play dumb with me, Gregory Lloyd McMahon!" – the young witch hissed, struggling to keep her voice down – "You did your best to dodge me, I'll give you that. But you can't avoid me forever."
"Alright, alright—no need to get all fired up." – Greg smirked, taking a deep breath.
"Funny." – Catherine shot back, visibly trying to rein in her frustration – "What were you thinking? After that whole speech about how amazing Lily was and how much you liked her, you just... toss her aside? I didn't think you'd be that kind of guy."
"What kind of guy?" – Greg's blue eyes flashed dangerously.
"The kind who chases after a girl until he gets her, only to lose interest and move on to the next one." – his siter replied mercilessly.
"You have no idea what you're talking about." – the boy spat, his tone sharp – "I'm not interested in trying to score with every pretty girl in school. My name's not Sirius Black after all."
"If you're trying to rile me up so I'll back off, you'll need a better strategy." – Catherine gave him a satisfied look as he let out a low, frustrated growl – "And 'I think you're wonderful, but I've moved on' doesn't sound like you. I can't believe Lily fell for that."
"What was I supposed to say?" – Greg snapped, his blue eyes clouded with sorrow and defeat – "That I don't want her getting hurt again by some psychopathic pure-blood freaks? That I'm scared Borealis or another House might try to use her to get to me, only to discard her once she's no longer useful? I like her a lot, Flame, but more than anything, I want to keep her safe. It's better if she thinks I'm a jerk, and we both go our separate ways before things get too serious."
"That's beyond ridiculous, Greg!" – Catherine threw her arms up in exasperation – "Whether Lily's with you or not, it won't stop anyone from targeting her just because she's Muggle-born. Instead of standing by and protecting her, you're just leaving, hoping that'll keep her safe? I really don't understand your reasoning."
"I'm not asking you to understand." – the young lord replied softly – "And I don't expect Lily to forgive me, either. She deserves someone better—someone who can dedicate his entire life and soul to her, and that's not me. I'm the McMahon heir, with responsibilities I can't abandon for her sake. Besides… I doubt I could ever give my whole heart to anyone."
"Why would you say that?" – the black-haired girl exclaimed, taken aback. Her brother had always been caring and affectionate; it was hard to understand why he'd say such nonsense all of a sudden.
"It doesn't matter." – Greg forced a sad smile – "I need to go or I'll miss the train."
The boy turned and hurried toward the carriages, only to pause after a few steps and glance back. Catherine stood in front of the alcove, her green eyes filled with worry. The sight made his chest tighten. In a swift move, the wizard returned and pulled his sister into a tight hug. After a moment, he let go, giving her a warm smile despite her grim expression.
"Don't worry, kiddo. I'm going to be fine." – he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead – "Don't overdo it with Occlumency, and give Nyx a good belly rub."
Catherine watched him, puzzled, as he sprinted toward the departing carriages. 'Why did he mention Nyx at all?' – she wondered, turning back toward the castle. Lost in thought, the young witch failed to notice the dark figure watching them from the opposite side of the courtyard.
Lily Evans lay on her bed in the empty Gryffindor girls' dormitory, too weighed down by sadness to even think about getting dressed. Gwyneth and Mary had left for the Easter break, and Catherine was likely outside, saying her goodbyes with the boys.
A small relief came from knowing she wouldn't have to face her family or a bustling castle; only a handful of people remained, allowing the fourth-year to endure her breakup in relative peace. The last thing she wanted was to field questions about her mood or endure the shallow sympathy or mocking faces of her classmates. It seemed that, in the end, only Catherine and Severus allowed her to express her true feelings without judgment—though Severus struggled to hide his "I told you so" smirk.
Finally, after turning restlessly in bed for a while, Lily decided hiding away was pointless. She dressed quickly and headed to the nearly empty Common Room, where the best seats lay unclaimed. Settling into her favourite low burgundy armchair with her Transfiguration textbook, the red-headed girl tried to focus but found herself staring blankly at the same page for ten minutes, comprehending nothing.
Suddenly, something soft and weighty landed in her lap, making her nearly squeal in surprise.
"Oh, Nyx!" – the witch giggled in relief, gently scratching the Kneazle behind her ears - "Happy most people are gone, so you can nap wherever you please?"
The creature purred, stretching her agile black body. Lily continued to pet the Kneazle's silky fur, which brought her a sense of peace. Unexpectedly, her fingers brushed against something—a piece of parchment tucked under Nyx's collar. Curiosity getting the better of her, the fourth-year carefully unfolded the note, which contained three short sentences written in elegant, elaborate handwriting:
Don't forget to rest during the spring break. Happy Easter! I love you!
'Was that meant for Daisy?' – Lily wondered, folding the parchment and slipping it back under the Kneazle's collar – 'Is she dating someone? She didn't say a word. And who would dare use Nyx as a messenger? She hates almost everyone.'
Determined to subtly ask her friend about her relationship status without revealing she'd seen the note, Lily left the Gryffindor Tower and headed outside the castle. It seemed the grounds had emptied out, with no students in sight. Taking a leisurely stroll around the Black Lake, the red-headed girl closed her eyes briefly, savouring the fresh spring air. Walking alone helped to clear her mind, and by the time she returned to the castle, she felt noticeably better, debating whether to eat lunch in the Great Hall or take her meal outside.
Her decision was made for her when she spotted Severus Snape emerging from the Entrance Hall, holding what looked like a few sandwiches and some fruit.
"Are those for me?" – Lily asked her friend teasingly.
"If you'd like." – Snape replied, his cheeks flushing slightly – "I wanted us to spend some time together, but I thought you'd be in your Common Room, not in the mood to go outside."
"Why wouldn't I?" – the girl challenged, grabbing a ham and cheese sandwich and taking a bite – "There's no point hiding away, moping over someone who clearly didn't appreciate me."
The Slytherin couldn't suppress his smile. His patience had finally paid off. McMahon breaking up with Lily felt like the best gift he could have asked for, and it was a big part of why he'd chosen to stay at Hogwarts over Easter rather than go home, despite his mother's disappointment.
"You deserve much better." – he said softly, his dark eyes fixed intently on her, searching for any sign of how close he might be able to get to her at that moment.
"Don't even think of starting it!" – Lily snapped, her sharp glare taking the boy by surprise.
"Start what?" – Snape asked, attempting to sound casual.
"You know exactly what I mean." – the witch scoffed – "I'm well aware you never liked Greg, and you've been against our relationship from day one."
"I just care about you too much and didn't want to see you get hurt." – Severus said, trying to smooth things over – "Besides, I was right in the end, wasn't I?"
"Even if you were, there's no reason to be so smug about it." – Lily hissed angrily – "It feels like I'm surrounded by double-faced, despicable people wherever I go. Muggle-born students are being attacked left and right. You've heard what happened to poor Autumn, haven't you? They still haven't caught the perpetrator, but don't try telling me your precious housemates had nothing to do with it! I've been assaulted myself several times, and then I ended up getting used by a fellow Gryffindor. Honestly, compared to that, James Potter isn't so bad. At least the worst he does is act like an annoying prat."
"Yeah to you!" – Snape growled, his black eyes burning with resentment – "I could tell you plenty about how 'nice' and 'harmless' Potter and his friends really are. You can't trust people like them, Lily! When are you going to understand that we only have each other?"
"That's a pretty depressing thought." – the red-headed girl laughed, ignoring the hurt that flashed across the wizard's face – "It's true that James and the boys are arrogant and mean to some people, but frankly, I don't see much of a difference between them and Avery or Mulciber."
"The difference is that Avery and Mulciber don't consider it their favourite pastime to hex me in the corridors!" – the Slytherin snapped, his irritation flaring.
"Are you sure?" – Lily shot back – "I know you hate hearing it, but your housemates treat you horribly, Sev. And you don't deserve it. You're loyal and kind, and you should have real friends—people you can actually trust. Like I am with Daisy, for example."
"That just shows how naïve you are." – the boy retorted with a grim smirk.
"Oh, here we go again!" – the red-headed girl rolled her eyes – "I get your feud with Potter and the rest, but you and Catherine have more in common than you think. If you two could stop trading insults every time you see each other, you might actually become friends."
"I'd rather eat a jar of Bubotuber pus." – Severus said daringly – "And I'm not talking about me and Plantier—I'm talking about you and her. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it's better you know now than later. Your so-called friend has been sneaking around the castle, making out with your ex-boyfriend."
"What?!" – Lily gasped, the apple slipping from her fingers before she could take a bite – "That is such a disgusting lie, Severus Snape! How can you spread baseless rumours like that without any shame?!"
"I saw them with my own eyes!" – the wizard insisted, refusing to back down – "Less than an hour ago, they were hiding in that alcove over there, doing Merlin knows what. When they came out, he kissed her and then left to catch the train."
"He kissed her?" – Lily repeated, disbelief etched on her face – "Like on the lips?"
"Well…" – Snape hesitated briefly – "No, on the forehead but you should have seen how intimate they were with each other. And she was furious at him for some reason a few weeks ago when she encountered McMahon practicing elemental magic with his father. A lover's quarrel would have explained that."
"I thought Greg was practicing late at night?" – Lily's voice grew suspicious – "How did you even see them?"
"It doesn't matter." – the Slytherin replied quickly, deflecting the question to avoid mentioning his arrangement with Lucius – "What matters is that I saw them, and I'm sure this has been going on for a while. They were obviously flirting—probably dating behind your back."
"I don't believe you!" – the red-headed girl shouted, her face flushed with anger. She turned and stormed back into the castle, leaving Severus standing alone, questioning if his desire to expose Plantier's betrayal had cost him more than he was willing to pay.
Catherine knocked on the door of Dumbledore's office, barely able to contain her eagerness as she waited for the invitation to enter. To her surprise, the Headmaster wasn't seated behind his desk as usual. Instead, he was standing, bent over a shallow stone basin.
"Ah, Catherine – right on time!" – the greeted her with a smile – "I trust you enjoyed your dinner. Despite the smaller number of students, the house-elves are as diligent as ever."
"I especially appreciated the limited company in the Great Hall." – the girl replied with a smirk, stepping closer and eyeing the intriguing object on his desk. The basin's surface was engraved with ancient runes forming words she didn't recognise, and inside it swirled a silvery substance, somewhere between liquid and gas, shimmering under the candlelight.
"I see you've noticed my Pensieve." – remarked, his blue eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles – "As you're about to begin studying Occlumency, it's a useful tool to have at hand."
"I've never seen one of these before." – Catherine said excitedly, circling the desk to examine the Pensieve from every angle – "If I'm not mistaken, you can store thoughts and memories inside it?"
"Precisely." – the Headmaster nodded, touching his temple with the tip of his wand. A silver strand stretched from his head to the wand, then floated gracefully into the basin – "To test your Occlumency shields, I'll need to use Legilimency. I wouldn't want to browse your mind without boundaries, so you can place anything you'd rather keep private into the Pensieve before we begin. You can retrieve it afterward, and I'll ensure it's cleared for you."
With a gentle motion of his hand, the wizard transferred the silvery thoughts into a nearby jar, sealing it immediately.
"I thought using one of these artifacts required extraordinary skill." – Catherine said thoughtfully, her fingers absently tracing the runes carved into the stone.
"In principle, yes." – Dumbledore replied with a smile – "But the skill lies in extracting thoughts and memories with enough clarity to examine them in detail later. It's not too difficult if you simply want to store memories. All you need to do is focus on the thought you wish to remove, then 'push' it out of your mind while holding your wand as I demonstrated."
The young witch drew out her wand, hesitating as she considered what she should keep away. She certainly didn't want the Headmaster learning about their Animagi project, but there were other "adventures" that could also get her in trouble—especially her secret trips to Hogsmeade over the years. Feeling the pressure, she quickly placed several memories into the Pensieve under her Master of Fire's watchful gaze, hoping it would be enough.
"I believe I don't need to explain to you what Occlumency is." – the wizard aid once the fourth-year was finished – "I'm aware your family has a strong tradition in it, and your father may even be more skilled than I am. Therefore, I expect you'll be able to grasp the basics quickly and build some initial shields to help with your nightmares."
Catherine nodded, focusing intently, determined not to miss a single word of Dumbledore's explanation. She was more resolved than ever to fend off the demon's influence and finally enjoy a restful sleep without relying on Dreamless Sleep Potion.
"First things first." – the Headmaster began pacing in front of the fireplace, while Fawkes observed him intently from his golden perch – "The key to effective Occlumency is mastering your emotions. Strong emotions—anger, fear, even joy—can leave your mind wide open, like an unlocked door, and make it vulnerable. To learn Occlumency, you must cultivate a calm, focused mind. This requires detachment—a mental discipline that allows you to step back from your emotions, preventing them from clouding your judgment or overpowering your focus."
"Secondly," – Dumbledore continued – "visualise your mind as a fortress, one with strong, impenetrable walls. These walls must be built from the strength of your will. Whenever you feel someone attempting to enter your mind—such as through Legilimency—you must imagine these walls rising, deflecting the intruder's presence. The stronger your mental focus, the thicker and higher these walls become. When you sense a presence trying to break into your thoughts, do not panic or react with fear. Instead, meet it with composure. Think of pushing the invading presence out, as if they were merely a fog that could be dispelled by a strong wind. Remember, the art lies not in forceful resistance, but in controlling your thoughts so there's nothing for an intruder to hold on to."
"But how do I do that when I'm asleep?" – Catherine asked impatiently. So far, Occlumency sounded like a meticulous craft that had little to do with raw magical power.
"Occlumency shields will serve you in many ways, not just for blocking nightmares." – the Headmaster gave a reassuring smile to his frowning student – "But I understand this is your most pressing concern right now. Begin by practicing mental clarity before sleep each night. Picture the day's thoughts drifting away, like leaves on a stream, until your mind is as calm and still as a quiet pond. This habit will strengthen your defences, making it easier to maintain control, even under stress. Like most things, the more you practice, the easier it will become."
He paused, his expression growing slightly more serious. "Now, let's test your shields. I'll use Legilimency to attempt to enter your mind. We'll see how well you can maintain your defences while awake. Let's give it a try."
Catherine took a deep breath, focusing as hard as she could on imagining shields encircling her mind. Clearing her thoughts proved far more difficult; chaotic fragments buzzed through her head, refusing to settle. Her emotions presented a separate challenge, dominated by uncertainty, fear of failure, and an uncomfortable self-awareness.
Suddenly, she felt an overwhelming presence in her mind, invasive and unsettling. It was as if she were forced to share her most private space with a stranger who could see not only her actions but also her thoughts. Fighting down a surge of panic, she struggled to follow Dumbledore's instructions, pushing back with her mind as best as she could. She began to feel dizzy as flashbacks from her life flickered across her vision, utterly beyond her control. She watched herself as a child, sobbing over her brother's burned body as he screamed for their mother.
Then, just as suddenly, the presence vanished. Catherine realised she had fallen to her knees, tears streaming down her cheeks. The Headmaster was at her side in an instant, gently helping her to her feet.
"I don't think I'm doing very well, sir." – she admitted with a disappointed sigh once she steadied herself, still trembling.
"You're far too harsh on yourself, my girl." – the Professor replied kindly, conjuring a glass of water with his wand. The young witch accepted it gratefully, draining it immediately – "It was only your first attempt. Improvement will come with time."
But the second, third, and fourth attempts brought little progress. Each time, her mind lay bare before Dumbledore, leaving her feeling exposed and humiliated. He witnessed memories she would have preferred to keep private: her grief over Betty's death, her first kiss with Remus, and her simmering jealousy over Sirius and Marianne. Though the Headmaster said nothing about what he'd glimpsed and was endlessly patient and reassuring, Catherine felt like a complete failure. She couldn't muster even the faintest shield, her mind seemingly an open door for anyone with even basic Legilimency skills.
This worried her greatly, as she apprehended what Adrian Borealis could have seen if he had decided to use Legilimency when they bumped into each other in Hogsmeade. The new sense of impending danger left the black-haired girl feeling intensely vulnerable and disappointed in herself.
She quietly retrieved her memories from the Pensieve, her gaze fixed on the stone basin, carefully avoiding Dumbledore's eyes.
"You have to let this go, Catherine." – the Headmaster said softly – "Failures are a natural part of learning. You can't give up just because you aren't progressing as quickly as you'd hoped."
"I know." – she mumbled, though her tone was less than convincing – "I won't give up on learning to protect my mind, but... I suppose I expected more from myself. Maybe I was relying too much on my bloodline."
"This is a unique and rather peculiar type of magic." – Dumbledore noted thoughtfully, his expression serious – "I'll admit, it took me quite a while to grasp it myself. Influencing human emotions, dreams, and thoughts is among the most challenging feats one can attempt. In fact, I'd argue we've lost much of the knowledge ancient witches and wizards once possessed."
"Is it a form of Ancient magic?" – Catherine asked, surprised. Her gaze shifted to the runic symbols carved into the Pensieve's surface – "I don't recognise these words."
"Occlumency and Legilimency do indeed have roots in ancient magic practices, but they're fragments of what could be achieved through the proper rituals." – the Headmaster responded, tracing his fingers along the edge of the Pensieve – "It's no surprise you don't recognize the symbols—they're written in Selenithra, the language of ancient moonlight. It's the most fitting for magic that affects the mind and dream realm. If I'm not mistaken, Professor Oakenscript includes it in the fifth-year curriculum."
"If my performance today is any indication of how well I'll do learning Selenithra, I might end up missing my current struggles with Lumirith." – the girl remarked bitterly – "I thought studying light magic would strengthen my healing abilities, but it doesn't seem to be helping. I couldn't do anything for poor Autumn."
A shadow passed over Dumbledore's face as he placed a gentle hand on his student's shoulder, prompting her to look up, a question in her eyes.
"What happened to Autumn was unimaginably cruel. She's still traumatised—as are you and Miss Fawcett, I suspect." – he said, his voice carrying a steely note – "I know you're someone who takes action, Catherine, and I have no doubt you did everything in your power to help. But the curse used on Miss Monroe was exceptionally vile. Dark magic lingered in her wound, preventing it from closing properly. In such cases, the type of healing I've taught you, based solely on light magic, isn't effective. For it to work, it must be combined with dark magic."
"Mix light and dark magic?" – the girl arched an eyebrow in disbelief – "That sounds a bit counterproductive. Won't they just cancel each other out?"
"Not necessarily." – Dumbledore smiled at the scepticism in the Gryffindor's eyes – "There's always darkness in the light, just as there's always light hidden in the darkness."
"Light and darkness are one and whole, though they seem to dwell in different forms." – the young witch recited.
"Precisely." – the Headmaster nodded – "It's a formula, translated in every ancient language, but particularly significant when using Sylvanor."
"Then I can't effectively heal anyone who's been cursed." – Catherine concluded unhappily – "You said it yourself—we need to fight Voldemort's influence within the school. But it seems my abilities aren't as powerful as I'd hoped."
"That isn't true." – Dumbledore assured her. Shadows played across the tired lines of his face, yet his eyes were as lively and full of strength as ever – "You possess the strongest weapon—one that Tom has never seemed to understand and has greatly underestimated: love and compassion. I firmly believe that, in time, your power could become as great as his, but your choices will lead you down a very different path. Don't give up; you're vital to this fight, and countless people, including your friends, will rely on you."
Spring had arrived hesitantly at Spinner's End, casting an unexpected warmth over its usually dreary streets. The old, sagging brick houses, their walls stained and crumbling, seemed to hold the sunlight reluctantly, as if unaccustomed to such warmth. Pale green tendrils crept up through cracks in the pavements, small yet defiant, softening the harshness of the asphalt with their delicate, hopeful presence. The muddy river, normally sluggish and murky, sparkled in places, catching flashes of sunlight as it wound its way past the worn-out buildings, and for once, the scent of fresh grass and budding leaves overpowered the usual smell of smoke and damp stone.
Eileen Snape sat at the old wooden table in her small kitchen, dressed in a faded black dress that hung loosely on her emaciated frame. A few white streaks threaded her dark hair, tightly secured in a bun. She had opened the door to let in the sun's warmth, hoping it would dispel some of the gloom that lingered in the house even with Tobias gone. Spread across the table were several pieces of clothing, and she focused intently on casting a Stitching Charm to embroider delicate flowers along the hem of a skirt. The charm required precision and drained her energy quickly, but it allowed her to earn enough for food and basic necessities. In fact, she'd managed to save just enough for a small piece of lamb, hoping to prepare it for Severus's return. But, in the end, he had chosen to stay at Hogwarts for the holidays, and she couldn't blame him. Her own school days had been the happiest of her life, and without the looming threat of his father, Severus had little reason to return to this bleak house.
A knock on the doorframe jolted the woman from her thoughts. She quickly rose, expecting one of her customers, only to find herself face-to-face with a tall, dignified man who appeared to be in his sixties. Silver hair, swept back from his forehead, highlighted the angular lines of his face and sharp jawline. He wore a tailored mid-weight coat in soft charcoal, fastened with horn buttons, over a crisp white shirt and a light beige linen cravat. Well-tailored, warm brown trousers and polished leather shoes added to the sense of authority and luxury that the newcomer exuded.
"It's been a long time, Ellie." – the man said in a deep, resonant baritone. His eyes, a rare and unusual shade of blue that appeared violet in certain light, met the witch's identical gaze for the first time in over sixteen years.
"Your Grace." – Eileen murmured, sinking into a curtsy, her eyes fixed on the floor – "I never thought I'd see you in a place like this."
"There's no place I wouldn't go for you." – Duke Prince replied, stepping inside and surveying the narrow, worn kitchen and the unfinished clothes still piled on the table – "You know that the only reason I haven't reached out was your own obstinate refusal to hear from me."
"Then why are you here now?" – the witch asked coldly, ignoring the flicker of hurt in her father's eyes.
"I thought you'd have had enough time to reevaluate your options after the death of your… hmm… husband." – the aristocrat replied, without a hint of regret for the unfortunate demise of Tobias Snape.
"My options? I have no choice but to work hard and support my son!" – Eileen snapped, her thin face contorted with anger – "How did you even find out about Tobias? Are you spying on me?"
"I don't spy on you." – the Duke denied coolly – "But during the holidays, I've always tried to catch a glimpse of you, no matter how painful it was to watch you ruin your life and shred your dignity for that worthless, vile piece of filth."
"What do you even know about my dignity?" – the woman laughed bitterly, pulling away as he reached to take her hand.
"Sufficient as I'd have happily rid the world of that filthy Muggle cockroach if you hadn't done it first." – he hissed, raw magic crackling in the air between them.
Eileen went pale as a ghost. "I thought I sensed the spirit of air back then, but I assumed it was Severus."
"Oh, please." – the Duke chuckled grimly – "Your boy has a strong inclination, but without proper training, he wouldn't be able to control enough power to do the necessary damage. You, on the other hand, clearly remember Canopus' lessons, despite your stubborn refusal to finish them. That was exactly what learning elemental magic prepared you for."
"Get out!" – the witch screamed, her violet eyes brimming with desperate tears.
"Please, Ellie!" – Alexander Prince implored, taken aback by her reaction – "I want us to try and fix things between us. You don't want to be the heiress of House Prince? Fine. Plus, you have a son—he's half Prince and could be named an heir in your place. Just come home!"
"After all these years, you still have no idea what truly upsets me or what I want!" – Eileen shouted, her eyes gleaming with an intense blue light – "You only care about House Prince and your precious heritage! You haven't even called Severus by his name, and already you want to turn him into another obedient puppet for your pathetic power games!"
"That's not true!" – the wizard insisted, his voice fervent – "All I've ever wanted is for you to be safe. I couldn't bear to lose you like I lost your mother! Your son… Severus should decide for himself if he wants to be my heir, but I've seen his potential. Most importantly, though, I want my family back!"
"You wanted me to be safe…" – the woman laughed bitterly, almost hysterically, as water erupted from the sink and began spilling onto the floor – "Your 'care' ruined my life! But you know, I'm not much better, because in turn, I did the same to my child. You might be right that he'd gladly jump at the chance to escape the misery and seize the opportunities he deserves. However, I'll do a better job than you and protect him from your world—even if he hates me for it!"
"Eileen, I don't understand why you're reacting this way!" – the man said gently, disregarding the water flowing freely around him and ruining his John Lobb shoes – "Please, calm down! You're clearly not well. Let me help you!"
"Just leave!" – Eileen sobbed, turning her back on him – "I don't want to see you again!"
Duke Prince sighed, slipping his hand into his coat pocket. "I understand that you're overwhelmed with emotion." - he said quietly - "Take this. Use it to contact me when you change your mind. I'll come immediately."
With a loud crack, the aristocrat disapparated. The witch rushed to close the door, desperate to shut out the world. Her gaze fell on the kitchen counter, where her father had left a small glass sphere filled with a swirling silver fog that occasionally shimmered in rainbow hues—condensed spirit of air. She knew that if the glass broke, Alexander would know instantly. Another one of his clever tricks, always keeping everyone under his control.
Eileen seized the sphere and shoved it into a nearby drawer. Her anger, slowly dissipating after the Duke's departure, was replaced by an overwhelming sorrow. Long-buried memories rose to the surface as she hurried upstairs to Severus's room—the only place in the house untainted by violence and abuse in her mind.
She felt a wave of guilt that her son had to live in such meagre conditions, but she could not imagine exposing him to the aristocrats' world—a nest of predators disguised in fine clothes. Burying her face in Severus's pillow to muffle her cries, she felt, once again, the cold touch of that man's hands and saw his icy blue eyes that haunted her nightmares. Compared to him, Tobias Snape was nothing more than a rusted blade beside a gleaming, deadly sword.
"I'd rather perish than go back to that hell!" – Eileen sobbed, curling into a foetal position on her son's bed.
The tall, dark townhouses sat close together, their grim facades softened only slightly by the April sunshine. Ivy creeped along the walls, its fresh green tendrils adding a hint of life to the grey stone, while sparse patches of wildflowers push up stubbornly through cracks in the pavement, defying the lingering shadows. Occasionally, Muggles crossed the little square to buy something from the vegetable cart parked in front of number 11. Some of them smirked as they glanced at the neighbouring house, numbered 13—a private joke among locals, who claimed that the owners of number 12 got so fed up with door-to-door salesmen that they simply made the whole house disappear.
In reality, there was a grain of truth to that claim, as Number 12 did indeed stand out amidst its gloomy neighbours—though only those with magic, and an invitation to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, could actually see it. For many in the Wizarding society, such an invitation was considered an honour, but in Sirius Black's opinion, it was far from worth anyone's time. The rebellious heir of the Black family was currently sprawled across his bed, staring aimlessly at the wood-panelled ceiling. So far, the Easter break was exactly as miserable as he'd expected.
The young wizard would have gladly stayed at Hogwarts or gone to Godric's Hollow with James, but his mother had insisted he return to London, even threatening to forbid him from ever visiting the Potters again. In all honesty, he was baffled by her efforts to get him back; no one in his family enjoyed having him around, and the feeling was mutual. The Easter lunch had been painfully awkward, and the thought of spending the evening in the company of his extended family—including his cousins—made him feel nothing short of wretched.
The boy was vaguely aware of a commotion downstairs; he'd overheard his parents talking about some meeting during tea, though he had no interest in joining. Not that he'd been invited. These gatherings always followed the same tiresome script: pure-bloods flaunting their wealth and connections, grumbling about Muggles, the Ministry, Dumbledore, and Muggle-borns. The whole charade was drenched in expensive alcohol and, occasionally, potions that Sirius was fairly certain were illegal.
'I wish I could just leave.' – the teenager thought bitterly. Unfortunately, trying to sneak out of the house at this moment would probably mean bumping into some of the guests, who would undoubtedly recognise him and obstruct his escape. The thought of yet another fight with his mother made him sigh heavily, so he resigned himself to doodling in his sketchbook for a while.
After about fifteen minutes, Sirius tossed the sketchbook aside and began pacing around the room. Being trapped at Grimmauld Place for an entire week was wearing on his nerves. Even drawing, his usual escape, couldn't calm him anymore—especially since he always seemed to end up sketching big black cats. Shaking his head, he tried to shift his mind elsewhere.
A glance out the window caught his attention. A small group stood at the front door, one figure cloaked and hooded, while the person beside them was unmistakable. 'What's that prat Lucius Malfoy doing here?' - Sirius growled under his breath, his curiosity instantly piqued. For a moment, he considered making an appearance downstairs to eavesdrop, but his mother's warning echoed in his mind: the gathering was for adults only, and despite being the eldest son, he wasn't allowed to attend.
Carefully cracking his door open, the young wizard crept down the corridor and peeked over the railing of the staircase. From this distance, the crowd on the ground floor was a blur of shifting silhouettes, and voices filled the air, too muffled to discern. The sounds grew more contained, indicating that the guests were likely assembling in the salon — the largest room in the house.
Sirius slipped down the stairs, moving as quietly as he could. At the base, he ducked behind the lavishly carved newel post in the shape of battling serpents—a smart choice, as his mother walked by moments later with Aunt Druella, Bella, and Cissy, all dressed in expensive black robes. This struck him as strange; neither of his cousins was of age. While Narcissa was close, turning seventeen in a few months, it didn't explain why Bellatrix was allowed to attend. The sight only deepened Sirius's sense of being kept in the dark.
The door closed behind the witches, and for a brief moment, the solid wood glowed with a faint golden light—unmistakable evidence that the entrance was warded. Burning with curiosity, the young wizard remembered a small passage that led from the kitchen to the salon, used by house-elves to serve the family more efficiently, especially during gatherings.
'Maybe I can hear something.' – Sirius thought, dashing towards the far end of the entry hall. The cavernous room with rough stone walls, which served as a kitchen, was currently empty, but the scattered wine bottles and trays piled with smoked salmon canapés, wild mushroom tartlets, and blackberry-lavender macarons suggested there were at least twenty guests upstairs.
The boy crouched next to the narrow opening near the fireplace. It was tight, but with some effort, he thought he could squeeze through. After a solid fifteen minutes of wriggling and manoeuvring, he managed to crawl through the passage and reach the other end, which was discreetly concealed behind one of the salon's heavy curtains. Afraid of making any noise, he barely shifted the thick fabric in front of his face, keeping his movements minimal as he peeked out, his head and shoulders emerging just enough to observe the scene.
Familiar faces filled the room—pure-bloods from old families, many of whom shared the Blacks' fervent views about the Wizarding world and the role of pure-bloods within it. At the centre of the gathering, Lucius Malfoy stood with an arrogant smile, clearly in the midst of a speech.
"You're absolutely right, Cygnus!" – he exclaimed, nodding toward Sirius' uncle – "These are difficult times that only show how far our world has fallen. Where our ancestors walked with pride, we now find ourselves overlooked, our traditions ignored, our bloodlines dismissed as relics of a time they deem obsolete. The Ministry – bloated with blood-traitors, imposes rules upon us without respect for the heritage that built this world. And Hogwarts—filled with weak Mudbloods, under the protection of Albus Dumbledore, who basks in their admiration for opening the doors of our temple of knowledge to those who hardly deserve it. Only the House of Slytherin remains a true bastion of noble blood—the families who wielded magic while others were blind to it, who shaped this society and safeguarded it through the centuries. It's time to reclaim what's rightfully ours, to restore balance.
He paused, letting his gaze sweep the room. "There is one among us who understands this, who has the power and vision to usher in a new era of strength, unity, and respect for our kind. I know many of you have heard rumours, lies even, which is why I've brought Algernon here with me today. He has been the Dark Lord's most trusted friend and ally since their school days, and he is one of the few who can speak to what the Dark Lord truly stands for and bring you the truth!"
The cloaked man Sirius had seen with Malfoy earlier removed his hood and stepped closer to Lucius. Sirius vaguely recalled him from some banquet or other pointless gathering, but he was certain the man was the Avery patriarch and grandfather of Tarquin, Sabina, and Marcellus. He had the same dark eyes and pointed chin as all of them.
The wizard nodded to a few people in the room and cleared his throat. "Thank you, Lucius. It's truly heartening to see young men among us so dedicated to family and tradition. The truth is, you should witness for yourselves the strength, wisdom, and compassion the Dark Lord brings to our world. He understands us—he understands the importance of tradition, the sanctity of purity, and the need to safeguard our heritage. Unlike those who seek only to appease Mudbloods and blood traitors in power, diluting our magic, he envisions a world where we thrive, where wizarding bloodlines are respected, and our unique gifts are celebrated. He doesn't ask us to lower ourselves or compromise who we are; instead, he offers us unity, strength, and the chance to restore the magical world to its rightful glory. He is a man who cares deeply about our future, who will protect our culture and respect our ancestors. With his guidance, we can achieve a world that honours the true power and legacy of magic. I have personally seen him grow into the most powerful wizard of our time, and I'm here to invite you to meet him yourselves and lend your support to what I know you all hold dear…"
Sirius couldn't hear the rest of the speech because someone—or something—had grabbed him by the ankles and yanked him sharply back into the kitchen. Blinking in confusion as he lay sprawled on the stone floor, he recognised the familiar, grating voice of their old house-elf, Kreacher.
"The young Master is such a bad boy." – the creature muttered, pacing briskly around the room – "Kreacher will tell the Mistress right away. She will be furious, my poor Mistress. But it is Kreacher's duty."
"Duty, my ass." – Sirius growled, leaping to his feet – "You just love when I'm in trouble. Don't you have anything better to do? The monsters upstairs are probably thirsty."
"The young Master must not speak that way about the noble witches and wizard who grace the House of Black with their presence!" – Kreacher nearly screeched – "This is why the Mistress cannot trust her eldest son to attend such important meetings. He's an arrogant, Mudblood-loving prick."
"And you're a disgusting old sneak, so what?" – Sirius snapped, his anger rising by the second – "This is my house. I can go wherever I please. Go on, tell my mother. I've already heard more than enough."
The house-elf's wrinkled face twisted into a bizarre expression, halfway between a grin and a snarl. He darted toward the kitchen door but collided with Regulus, who had just entered.
"Young Master!" – Kreacher bowed to the second son of the Black family – "Kreacher is very sorry. He is in a hurry to speak with the Mistress about Master Sirius' disrespect for her orders."
"Oh." – Regulus raised an eyebrow, glancing at his brother, who scoffed – "I came down to ask for a few sandwiches, but I wouldn't bother Mother if I were you. She's the host of the meeting, and she's about to speak after Mister Avery—which is a huge honour. You absolutely shouldn't trouble her with such trivial matters. Since when does Sirius ever behave properly? It's hardly something she needs to deal with right now."
Kreacher giggled and bowed again to the boy, then dashed off to the pantry to prepare the food. Without a word, Sirius brushed past his brother, heading back to his room.
"You could say thank you." – Regulus called after him with a smirk.
"You could go fuck yourself." – Sirius muttered, storming out of the kitchen. Once back in his room, he locked the door and threw himself onto the bed, closing his eyes in an attempt to calm his racing heart. Everything was spiralling out of control. He'd joked about his parents joining the Death Eaters to mask his growing fear that they truly were about to do just that. But today, seeing and hearing the mood among the guests had forced him to confront the ugly, terrifying reality of what Voldemort and his followers were planning.
As just a teenager caught in the middle of his family's dark ambitions, the young wizard realised he had few choices for avoiding association with the Dark Lord or meaningfully opposing him. He gritted his teeth, an overwhelming need to talk to James rising within him. His best mate always knew how to lift his spirits. There was no way he'd just sit back and watch as the Wizarding world descended into chaos, simply because he was unlucky enough to be born a pure-blood. If anything, that gave him a duty to fight people like his family and protect the innocent.
"Please stay safe." – Sirius whispered, wishing he'd stayed at Hogwarts to protect her.
Catherine was comfortably reclined on her favourite plush red sofa in the Gryffindor Common Room, reading a rather ragged-looking book titled Cauldrons of Desire. It was the latest hit among the witches at Hogwarts, and Gwyneth Jones had conveniently forgotten a copy on her nightstand.
The shameless story followed a young witch, Aria Bloom, who took a part-time job at an exclusive potions shop, only to find that her mysterious, darkly charming boss, Cassian, was willing to teach her far more than she expected. He introduced her to the subtle art of brewing seductive potions that heighten emotions and reveal hidden desires.
Under normal circumstances, Catherine would never have let anyone see her reading such smut, nor shown any interest in it. But with the Gryffindor Tower nearly empty, there was no one around to witness her lapse in taste. She'd caught up on her schoolwork, Quidditch practice was on hold, and Thorne had told her he'd be busy over the holidays, and they were going to continue with her detention once the classes resume. As for Remus, he was away due to the full moon. With such a rare alignment of the stars, granting her an surprising amount of free time, Catherine surrendered to curiosity and delved into the world of adult literature.
Much to her own astonishment, the girl found the book more enjoyable than she'd anticipated, though it made her blush rather often. She'd also come across a few descriptions of certain practices that left her feeling truly uncomfortable and convinced she'd never try them with anyone. The whole subject deeply unsettled the teenager. To make matters worse, she couldn't stop wondering if Marianne already knew all these things—and if she'd done them with Sirius. The thought left her both angry and sad. Combined with the lingering discomfort from her failed transformation and the usual lack of sleep, it soured Catherine's mood entirely.
The Occlumency lessons hadn't helped her, or perhaps they could have, but the young witch was beginning to think she might be too dense to master the mental shields. She couldn't recall ever struggling this much with anything she'd tried to learn. After her last conversation with Dumbledore, the fourth-year felt he was relying far too much on her, and the constant failure in the lessons left her with the awful sensation she was betraying the Headmaster's trust.
'It's as if everyone's expecting something great from me, but I have no idea how to meet their expectations or where to even begin." – the black-haired girl sighed, tucking the book between her Ancient Runes dictionaries as if to hide her momentary indulgence.
"Ah, here you are!" – Lily's voice interrupted her friend's gloomy thoughts. The red-headed witch had just entered through the portrait hole, a flower crown of snow-white daisies on her head and Nyx in her arms – "Your pet had run away again. I found her sneaking out of the castle."
"Thanks!" – Catherine smiled, taking the rebellious Kneazle from her friend – "She really enjoys chasing birds, and I can't keep an eye on her all the time. Lucky you spotted her."
"Lucky that she likes me enough to let me pick her up." – the other witch chuckled – "Not many people can claim that honour. By the way, are you here alone? I thought you'd be with Remus."
"He's sick again, and Madame Pomfrey isn't allowing visitors in case it's contagious." – Catherine lied smoothly.
"Oh, poor Remus!" – Lily exclaimed sympathetically – "If I'd known you were by yourself, I'd have invited you along. The weather was perfect, and we had such a lovely walk."
"Thank you, but if 'we' includes Snape, I think I'd rather be on my own." – the black-haired girl smirked.
"Don't be ridiculous." – Lily replied, sounding exasperated – "Honestly, you're both impossible! Clearly, you can coexist—you sit together in Ancient Runes, after all. So why can't you be civil enough to go on a simple stroll?"
"Shall I remind you of the last time the three of us tried that?" – Catherine raised an eyebrow – "It was two years ago and I still think it was a disaster. If anything, he's only grown more arrogant, nasty, and—I'd even say—violent since then."
"Severus is not violent." – Lily defended her friend immediately.
"Oh, really?" – the other witch chuckled – "Granted, I applaud his dedication, but Lavinia still goes through a bottle of foundation every fortnight and I heard Aelia and Drusilla are not much better. Honestly, he's become rather unpredictable this year. You never know where he might be hiding, ready to hit you with a curse or hex."
"You don't know what you're talking about." – Lily snapped – "He's been more on edge, for sure, but that's because of his problems at home. I know he would never hide just to attack anyone."
"Again with the excuses." – Catherine scoffed – "I also have plenty of problems at home, but I don't behave like a psychotic, asocial git. And I'm saying this because I did try to cut him some slack after Slughorn's Christmas Party."
Lily's expression tightened, and her voice dropped to a quiet, almost tremulous tone. "It's really presumptuous of you to compare your problems—your parents ignoring you, or struggling to accept your identity as a witch—to the horrors Severus has gone through. I heard how his so-called friends humiliated him during that party, but I assure you, that hurt him far less than his father's death during Christmas."
Catherine stared, stunned. Her heart sank, and for a moment, words failed her. Snape's father died? She hadn't imagined something like that. It wasn't as if she knew much about his life, but this was different—how could something so significant have gone unnoticed by her? Suddenly, his apathetic, hollow look after the holidays made a grim kind of sense.
"I didn't know." – she said, guilt colouring her tone. She forced an awkward smile, a weak attempt to defuse the tension.– "I suppose then I shouldn't have teased and mocked him to get a reaction. But how was I supposed to know, right?"
Lily's eyes flashed with sudden anger. "Really?" - she snapped - "How can you joke about this? I give up! You're both the worst! You torment Severus without any thought for what he's dealing with. And then in his turn, he spreads the most disgusting rumours trying to split us apart, just to have me all for himself. Honestly, you two are so alike sometimes, I wonder why you didn't end up in Slytherin, being his best friend instead of me."
"Wait!" – Catherine held up a hand, her brows knitting together – "What rumours?"
Lily let out a frustrated laugh, shaking her head. "Some silly tale about you being the reason Greg dumped me. Severus claims he saw Greg kissing you on the forehead before leaving. He should at least have come up with something believable."
"Indeed." – the other witch said, her laugh coming out awkwardly – "And you're trying to tell me he's not a creep. What's he doing now, hiding around the courtyard?"
Lily laughed too, but her expression shifted—something about Catherine's words seemed to strike her. Her laughter faded as she stared at her friend, suspicion creeping into her emerald-green eyes. She hadn't mentioned where Severus said he saw them with Greg.
'Could it be true?' – Lily's mind raced, her thoughts colliding in a frantic spiral – 'No! Daisy would never do such a thing. She'd never betray me or hurt me on purpose.'
A cold dread crept over her, draining the colour from her face. The witch muttered some vague excuse and rushed to the dormitory. Her brain felt foggy, her heart pounding in her ears. She dropped to her knees in front of the trunk on the foot of her bed, throwing half its contents onto the floor until she found what she was looking for—a small shoebox, where she kept her most precious memories.
With trembling hands, the red-headed girl pulled out a golden card, decorated with delicate butterflies. It had come attached to the roses Greg gifted her for Valentine's Day. The flowers were destroyed, but she had kept the card, a reminder of their perfect day together. She stared at it now, her breath catching in her throat.
The handwriting. She blinked, her eyes blurring. It was the same as the one on the note she'd found tucked in Nyx's collar. The one meant for Catherine. The note that said I love you.
The world seemed to crumble around her, tears spilling hot and heavy down her cheeks. The betrayal cut deep, turning one of her closest friends into a complete stranger.
"Lils, you forgot your flower crown downstairs." – Catherine's voice cut through her haze. She entered the room, her smile fading as she took in the mess – "Are you alright? What happened here? Why are your stuff on the floor?"
"Don't touch me!" – Lily screamed, recoiling from Catherine's outstretched hand. She scrambled backward, her face twisted in rage and pain – "I didn't want to believe it! I couldn't! You of all people to betray me in such a despicable way! What did I ever do to you to deserve it? I was always there for you—always supported you. And this is how you repay me?"
"Lils, please!" - Catherine's eyes widened, her face paling. She stepped forward, but the other girl backed away - "Calm down! It has to be a misunderstanding. Just tell me what happened."
"What happened?!" – Lily's voice rose to a scream, tears spilling from her green eyes – "What happened, Catherine Plantier, is that you're a filthy liar and a shameless slut! If you wanted Greg so badly, you could have just told me—before we started dating! Not seduce him behind my back. How could you hurt me like this?"
"You're mistaken!" – the black-haired witch protested, her face flushing, deeply hurt by the injustice – "I've never done anything like that! I don't even think about Greg that way, not even remotely."
"Enough already!" – Lily snapped, her voice raw with anguish – I've seen the note he tucked in Nyx's collar! It took me a while to figure it out, but now I know—it was his handwriting. Are you still going to deny it?" Her voice cracked, and she laughed bitterly. "Oh, let me guess—you're such good friends that you say 'I love you' all the time, but just as friends, right? You're revolting, Catherine. I don't know how you tricked him into falling for you, but I'm starting to think it's more than innocent fun with all the boys. Maybe you've learned things I couldn't offer him. You disgust me."
Catherine stood still, her eyes fixed on the floor. Heavy tears fell down her cheeks as she listened to the harsh words coming from one of the people she cared about the most. What could she tell her? How could she explain the stupid note? It had never occurred to her that anyone would find this line of communication she had with Greg, especially since Nyx didn't allow anyone to touch her—unfortunately Lily being one of the few exceptions. Her mind was completely blank. All she could do was endure her friend's painful accusations and hope that she would forgive her someday.
'But how could I even ask for forgiveness when I didn't do anything?' – the witch thought desperately – 'I'd have to admit to something horrible—something I never did. I can't do that.'
"I never want to speak to you again!" – Lily sobbed, turning her back to Catherine, who stood there, silent and heartbroken, for a few moments before leaving the dormitory.
The rest of the afternoon was a haze. Catherine found herself staring blankly out the window for hours, her mind racing for a solution but finding none. As evening fell, she was forced to accept it—there was no way out. Fate had played a cruel prank, and it cost her the first person who had ever shown her true friendship.
How would they explain their broken relationship once everyone returned? Lily seemed angry enough to tell her truth, and Catherine knew how much people loved gossip. By the time classes resumed, the whole school would know. Would the boys believe it too? Her only option was to tell them it wasn't true and hope they'd trust her over Lily. But the problem wasn't her reputation—she never cared much about that. What hurt was how many friends she might lose over this stupid misunderstanding.
By eleven o'clock, the young witch was emotionally drained and exhausted. Lily hadn't left the dormitory all day. Catherine wanted to check on her, but fear held her back—she wasn't ready to face more hatred.
'But it's my room too.' - she told herself, trying to summon some courage, and finally pushed the door open.
There was no sound coming from Lily's bed. Quietly, the black-haired girl lay down on her bed, closing her eyes. She tried to hold on to the peace of the moment, to memorise it for the difficult days ahead.
Suddenly, the world changed. She was surrounded by flames, watching houses burn as the fire consumed them. Lifeless bodies rolled in the mud, the stench of blood thick in the air. Catherine laughed, feeling an intoxicating pleasure as her magic tore the limbs from a helpless, floating figure.
'She has red hair.' – the witch thought briefly, her mind detached, as if watching from afar. A sharp pain jolted her back to reality, making her gasp. Fire. Lily's panicked green eyes stared into her own - 'Is this part of the dream?'
"Catherine Plantier, snap out of it! You're going to kill us both!" – Lily's scream finally broke through, and Catherine realised the curtains of her bed were on fire. Acting on instinct, she reached towards her element and made the flames disappear instantly. The acrid smell of burning fabric, however, still lingered in the air.
"Did you do this in your sleep?" – Lily asked, her voice trembling – "You looked like you were having a nightmare. Oh Light, was it you behind all the items scattered around the room—and the rug... What's happening? This can't be normal!"
Catherine's entire body was trembling, fear tightening her chest like a vice. The realisation hit her hard, she had nearly set the entire dormitory ablaze. How could she have let this happen? No amount of distress could justify the danger she had put everyone in. What if Lily had been hurt—or worse? The thought clawed at her, too horrifying to fully grasp.
"You're right. I'm not normal." - the black-haired witch whispered, her voice unsteady. The shaking was now uncontrollable. She needed to push Lily away—Lily had a right to know, a right to protect herself. Nothing was more important - "I've lied to you since we met. I'm not Muggle-born. In fact, I'm as far from that as possible. My father is a wizard, and my mother is half-Veela. But more importantly, I have a demon sealed inside me. It's a curse that's haunted my family for centuries."
"It's so dangerous that every baby girl had to be killed upon birth. But my parents rebelled. They believed I could endure it—that I could keep the demon at bay. Dumbledore agreed to help them hide me here, to train me to fight the darkness in me. But, as you can see, despite all their best efforts, I'm weak. The demon's power leaks out when I'm asleep. It causes these nightmares and random spells that I can't control. That's why I either stay awake or take Dreamless Sleep Potion, barely functioning between naps."
She paused, her gaze dropping. "I'll talk to the Headmaster about finding somewhere else to stay. I understand if you don't want to share a room with me anymore."
Catherine buried her face in her hands, her body wracked with sobs. All the fear and pain she had held inside poured out in a torrent, unstoppable and raw. She felt a sudden warmth—a gentle hand on her shoulder. Slowly, she lifted her red, swollen eyes. Lily's features were hidden by the darkness in the room, but her touch was steady, and her voice, when she spoke, was soft and full of empathy.
"Does it hurt?" – she asked tentatively.
"What?" – Catherine blinked, startled by the unexpected question.
"Does it hurt to have a demon sealed inside you?" – Lily elaborated.
The other girl hesitated. "No... I mean, I don't really feel anything, except during those nightmares." - she said, her voice faltering slightly. It felt strange talking so openly about her darkest secret. And yet, there was something unexpectedly liberating about it - "It's just this constant feeling that something impure is hiding inside my body. Why are you so calm about this?"
"I'm not calm." – Lily admitted – "I'm scared. But if I'm this scared, I can't even imagine how terrified you must be. This is such a huge burden, Catherine. Do the boys know?"
The other witch shook her head, her eyes downcast. "No. I wanted to tell them so many times, but I'm afraid of how they'd react—finding out I've lied for years, that I'm dangerous. And…" - she paused, her voice dropping to a whisper - "There's even more danger in knowing who I really am."
"What could be more dangerous than a demon?" – Lily attempted a small joke, trying to lighten the mood, but then she gasped, as a sudden realisation stroke her – "Wait—you said your mother is half-Veela? Could it be... Oh my god! Daisy, is Greg… your brother?"
"He is." – Catherine admitted, her words falling into the heavy silence that filled the room – "I'm sorry I lied to you about being Muggle-born. I've always felt terrible, like I've been pretending to be one of you, and stolen the struggles you all have faced."
"What are you talking about?" – Lily scoffed – "You might not be Muggle-born, but since nobody knew, you went through the same abuse and unfair treatment as all of us. And just think—you could've been the queen of this school if people knew you were an aristocrat! Instead, you were beaten, spat on, hexed, and insulted every chance they got. If you kept your identity a secret despite all of that, you must have had one hell of a good reason."
"I do." – Catherine nodded – "I don't know how much Greg told you about the aristocrats, but if they find out we broke the Pact, and that I wasn't killed at birth, the punishment is death for my whole family. I don't want anyone else to bear this burden, because they'd become targets too. I already feel terrible that you got involved. Please, promise you won't tell anyone else!"
"Of course I won't tell anyone!" – Lily promised, then hesitated, her voice softening – "But I don't regret you telling me your secret. I won't lie that I'm not scared but I want to support you. Wouldn't it be better to have someone you could rely on—someone in front of whom you don't need to pretend?"
Catherine let out a bitter laugh. "Of course it would. But it wouldn't be fair to ask any of my friends to take such a risk for me."
"I guess that's why fate decided for you." - Lily said with a small shrug, then paused before continuing gently - "I'm really sorry for what I said earlier. I was hurt, and I couldn't understand how you could betray me. I could accept my boyfriend not liking me anymore, but you… it was unbearable to think you'd hurt me in such way. I must have made you feel horrible."
Catherine smiled, her eyes softening. "It's alright. Considering the burden I threw on you just a few hours later, I think we're even. Are we still friends?"
"Of course we are!" – Lily laughed, pulling the other girl into a tight hug– "But please tell me you don't have any more scary secrets!"
"Not currently." – Catherine replied with a laugh. A sense of relief washed over her – "I feel so much lighter. You're truly remarkable, Lily Evans. Not just as a friend, but also as a person."
The red-headed girl smiled and took the other witch's hand. "I didn't do anything special. Although, maybe things need to change now. Should I curtsy every time you enter a room or something?"
"Shut up!" – Catherine chuckled, her heart finally at ease.
"As you wish, Lady McMahon!" – Lily teased her with a wide grin.