A/N : Season 2 Act 2 is out, and I don't know what to do with my life anymore. Go watch it if you haven't !
Also, i'm catching up on all the content I had written in advance... I need to write faster :D
The Cost of Victory
The realization hit Caitlyn hard. Her job as an Auror, though she'd left it only a few months ago, felt like it belonged to another lifetime. The revelation came from the fact that she would have traded the world's magic for an hour more in bed, as the rooster sang, when she used to be able to pull all-nighters in a row, working on a case. How could habits change so drastically in so little time?
The only silver lining to her groggy morning was Vi's face across from her, buried in her own cup of coffee. She looked just as dead, exhausted, and drained. Her usual smile was absent, and Caitlyn was fairly sure that even the effort of stretching the corners of her mouth into a grin might make Vi collapse.
Still, it had been a good night, given the circumstances. They had stayed up talking—about Vi, her sister, their childhood. Silly, sweet stories. Ideas and plans on what to do next. How to find Powder. How to save her. The unbearable pain and guilt that had burned in Vi's heart when she returned from her adoptive father's house had slowly been replaced by something else: hope. And that sight alone was enough to make Caitlyn's heart swell.
The Great Hall, just like the rest of the castle, was a hive of activity, buzzing like a shaken bottle of champagne. Students whispered and chatted about the attack: the troll, the men in terrifying masks, the professors fighting back, the explosions, the destroyed home, the late arrival of the Aurors. Everyone had something to say about something—and most had something to say about everything. It was chaos. Yet, with a single word from his poised voice, Professor Dumbledore brought it all to order.
"Students."
The voices fell, and all eyes turned to the old man standing by his reading desk.
"I know there are many questions on your minds," he began, his voice calm yet commanding. "I know some of you are frightened, while others—more adventurous souls—might find the situation thrilling. But I urge each and every one of you to remain calm. The truth is, we do not yet have all the answers. But they will come, of that I am certain. The Aurors and the Ministry are working diligently, and we must trust in their skills."
A wave of whispers rose again, this time tinged with unease. Caitlyn scanned the room, searching for the young Gryffindors who had fought at her side the day before. It took her a moment to spot them—not because they were holding their heads high with pride as she had expected, but because both Potter and Black were staring down at their plates, pale and avoiding Dumbledore's gaze. The adrenaline of the battle had faded, and with it, the bravado. In its place, the reality of what could have happened weighed heavily on their young shoulders.
"I would like," Dumbledore resumed, "to commend the bravery of Hogwarts's professors, who fulfilled their duty with skill and unwavering dedication to protect our dear students. I know that some of you also took risks to help those around you in moments of great danger. That is admirable—truly. I am so proud of you. But most of all, I am deeply grateful and relieved that all of you are back, safe within these walls."
The old man paused, letting the weight of his words sink in.
"That being said, I am sorry to announce that visits to Hogsmeade are canceled until further notice, with hope the culprits will soon be caught ."
The wave of protest that Caitlyn expected to see rise didn't get off. A few older students grumbled or waved their hands, but most probably expected this, and she could clearly see some of the youngest members being relieved.
Her eyes drifted yet again toward the pink-haired woman she had spent the night with. No, poor phrasing, she corrected herself in her thoughts. But still, they did spend the night together, didn't they? Talking in the wee hours until, exhausted, Vi almost passed out against her. They slept shoulder to shoulder, sitting against the bedroom wall, until the morning came and dragged them out.
She wished they would have slept in the bed instead, and blamed herself for it. Not only because Vi was a woman and such attraction to another person was hardly something she had ever felt, but also because how could she think about these things when Vi's heart was broken by the new revelations, when her tears were still staining her cheeks, when she needed help and a friend more than anything else. Not that she was anything else. Anything more.
She bit her tongue instead of the piece of warm ham and cursed. Vi turned her head, and their eyes met. The young woman chuckled and silently mocked her. So those lips could smile without draining her last bits of energy after all.
Caitlyn wondered how she would be able to fulfill her classes for the day. She didn't even want to think about how many she had and couldn't remember what she had planned for them for the life of her. She didn't even notice that Dumbledore had dismissed the students and that breakfast time was over.
"Miss Kiramman?" gently asked McGonagall. "Might I see you for a minute before classes?"
The former Auror couldn't even find the strength to answer and just nodded and got up from her seat without finishing her plate.
She followed McGonagall all the way to the teacher's lounge, focusing all her attention on not dragging her feet too much.
"What is this about?" she finally found the strength to ask.
"How are you feeling, Caitlyn?"
It felt strange to hear her first name in the Scottish woman's mouth, maybe even stranger than the gentleness of her tone.
"I'm just tired, that's all. I didn't really sleep last night."
Minerva raised an eyebrow.
"Nightmares?"
"Not really, just couldn't find Morpheus, I guess. Spent some time talking with Vi when she came back, then, I don't know. The adrenaline, maybe."
McGonagall didn't seem convinced by her white lie, but she didn't push it further.
"Yesterday was a hard day for all of us. You handled yourself well, but I was not expecting anything less from a former Auror with a record like yours. However, if you feel unwell, someone else could cover your lessons for the day—just say the word. In these dark times, we need everyone at their best, and if you need to take a day off to make it so, I will allow it."
Caitlyn considered the option for only a few seconds.
"Thank you, Professor, but I'm alright. I want to show the children that we remain, no matter what. We won't be rattled by a little kerfuffle."
McGonagall chuckled.
"Very well. Then go, before you're late to your own class."
Caitlyn passed by the Gryffindor Head of House, shoulders squared, hoping she'd have enough energy to make good on her word.
In the hallway to her Defense Against the Dark Arts class, she crossed paths with Vi.
"Hey. What are you doing here?" she asked.
"Just something I had to put away, and now I'm going to bed. Didn't get my beauty sleep."
Cait choked.
"To bed? Don't you have work to do?"
Vi laughed, brightening the day with that simple act.
"Jealous much? Hagrid can manage a morning without me."
Then, in a more serious tone, she added:
"Thanks, Cait. For yesterday. For having my back, for listening. It meant more than you know. Thanks, really. I owe you one."
"Please, Vi. You don't owe me anything. This is only right."
The pink-haired woman shrugged.
"Right has not meant much in my life, Cait. Vander aside, you're the first one to come remotely close to it, and we've known each other for two months only."
Caitlyn blushed slightly.
"Come on, your kids are waiting. I'll see you later."
Without another word, but with a hand gently sliding over her shoulder, Vi left Caitlyn in the stone hallway.
As fate would have it, this morning Caitlyn Kiramman would have the third years of Gryffindor and Slytherin first. Perhaps this was why McGonagall had offered her some time off—facing the Marauders and their banter with Snape or Evans was the last thing she wanted.
However, to both her relief and concern, the four kids were quiet and gloomy. They sat in their usual places, but without their usual grins. The whole class was in a mood so different from the norm that it threw the professor off.
"Good morning, children," she began, once everyone was finally seated—without her having to ask for silence. "Today, we'll do something different. We're putting our plans on hold. Werewolves and vampires can wait—they'll still be here tomorrow."
Some rustling rose in the room, curiosity rekindled.
"For today, it's important we talk about what happened yesterday. First of all, is everyone alright? None of you were injured, correct?"
Most nodded; a few murmured quiet "yeses."
"But does that mean we're truly alright? Who among you had trouble sleeping last night?"
Silence. Stillness. Caitlyn waited a few seconds, then raised her own hand.
"I slept two hours. I couldn't sleep," she admitted.
She left out the part about staying in Vi's room, of course. A shy hand rose in front of her—the delicate hand of Lily Evans.
"Evans. Was it a nightmare that woke you, or could you just not sleep?"
The young girl took a moment to muster the courage to speak in front of the class.
"I couldn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I kept hearing screams. I didn't want to sleep."
"I see. Thank you for sharing, Miss Evans. Ten points to Gryffindor for voicing your experience—I know that isn't easy. Anyone else? Come on, I thought Gryffindor and Slytherin were the Houses of Courage and Ambition, not houses of liars. I know there's more. I'd wager maybe even all of you."
James Potter raised his hand and spoke before Caitlyn could prompt him.
"For me, it was a nightmare." His gaze briefly drifted to Evans before returning to his teacher. "I dreamt that one of the masks was about to kill me. I saw the green flash. Woke me up, and I couldn't sleep again."
Caitlyn nodded in understanding as a few more hands tentatively rose into the air from both sides of the room. She acknowledged them with a small smile, satisfied to see the truth slowly making its way to the surface.
"Yet we all said we were alright, didn't we? Why is that?"
"Because we're all safe and uninjured," guessed Snape, his voice carrying a touch of disdain.
"True, we are safe. Nothing a few minutes in the infirmary couldn't fix. And yet… here we are. Tired. Exhausted. Maybe even scared." She paused, letting the weight of her words settle. "You see, this is something we tend to forget when facing the Dark Arts. Defeating an enemy, solving a crime, winning a duel, capturing a dangerous creature… you might think that only failure leaves a mark. But you'd be wrong. More often than not, victory comes with a cost. And being injured isn't just a matter of the body—it's just as much, if not more, a matter of the mind."
Someone scoffed softly from the back of the room. The sound wasn't loud, but it was unmistakably mocking. Caitlyn's eyes darted in the direction of the noise, though she couldn't pinpoint its source.
"Ah, you don't believe me?" she asked, her tone calm but edged with challenge. "Very well."
She hesitated for a moment, debating whether what she was about to say was appropriate for young teenagers barely fourteen years old. But she had always believed that shielding children from the harsher truths of the world was a disservice—ignorance, after all, was a breeding ground for mistakes.
"Imagine this: you're an Auror. You've been tracking a dangerous criminal for weeks. Finally, you catch him, right in the middle of preparing his next terrible act. You save his soon-to-be victim. A victory, wouldn't you say? But then, in his basement, you find the bodies of two young children—neither of them older than ten. One is… horribly mutilated. Dried blood everywhere."
She paused, her gaze sweeping across the room. The students sat frozen, their faces pale.
"When you go home that night, are you celebrating? Are you meeting your coworkers at the pub for a pint? Or are you so sick to your stomach that the mere thought of food turns you cold? What do you think you see when you walk into your house and your own children run to you for a hug?"
A heavy, uneasy silence settled over the room like a suffocating fog.
"Let me give you another example," Caitlyn continued, her voice softer but no less firm. "A werewolf is rampaging across the countryside. Your house is next—under siege. You remember your training, everything you learned in class. You defeat the werewolf heroically, not a scratch on you. But your father lies dead on the ground. Your mother has been bitten."
She let the silence hang, the students staring at her, wide-eyed and unmoving.
"Are you celebrating? Are you fine, just because your body is unscathed?"
No one answered.
"I'll ask again: would you be fine?"
A few quiet "No"s echoed hesitantly against the stone walls. Then, a young brunette timidly raised her hand.
"Yes, Miss Kelly?" Caitlyn prompted gently.
"But then," the girl said, her voice trembling, "what's the point of all this? It feels like no matter what, we'll always lose."
Caitlyn's heart ached at the question. She had asked herself the same thing countless times before. But this moment wasn't about her—it was about them.
"Good point, Miss Kelly. This is a question many people struggle with, even with years on the force. The truth is: how many more people would have been hurt if you didn't stop that werewolf? How many more children taken if you hadn't found that criminal? This is the solace we need to find, but more than that, my point was that our well-being does not stop at our bodies. Taking care of our minds is just as important; this needs healing just as any other wound."
"How?"
"Well, this is indeed harder to treat than a broken bone. There are a few professionals at St Mungo's trained in the healing of the mind. Some use a Pensieve to store away the painful memories. Most just... talk. With their friends, with their loved ones, their coworkers."
Severus Snape raised his hand and asked, when given permission:
"This is all very dramatic, but both your examples featured very gruesome tragedies and dead people. No one was lost yesterday. No one was even injured."
"A very astute observation, Mr Snape. How could we lose sleep over something that didn't happen? You see, the human mind is a complex thing. It imagines. Extrapolates. What if? What if this rock had fallen one meter to the left, on me instead of the grass? What if this spell had hit my chest instead of that tree? Keeping these intrusive thoughts at bay demands an incredible discipline that most people cannot begin to get close to. This is just human nature. After all, isn't this what fear is all about? The imagination, or anticipation, of something bad happening? And more often than not, what if next time, I'm not that lucky?"
She took a second to catch her breath and swallow, noticing that she had both repulsed and captivated her audience. She expected to receive some complaints from McGonagall, maybe even some parents.
"Fighting the Dark Arts is not all about action and battle. It's a lot about preparation, as we have mentioned multiple times this year already. But it is also about dealing with the aftermath. About learning how to not let it cripple us, paralyze us in fear, for this may be Evil's greatest weapon after all: its capacity to keep us out of its way. How to help others recover, and how to allow ourselves to recover, is an important part of not letting it win."
The hour went by quickly as she and the students talked it away. They asked questions about the attack, about her life as an Auror, about their fears, and she answered them all as truthfully as possible. When time came to release them, she asked Potter and Black to stay behind for a minute.
"Are we in trouble?" asked Potter.
"Since when do you concern yourself with that?" she smirked playfully.
But for once, she saw something else in the cocky little brat he usually was. She saw the kid. The kid who had realized how close he had come to tragedy.
"No, you're not in trouble. I just wanted to check up on you. If you want to talk, you can always find me, you know? If those nightmares don't go away."
The kid just shrugged.
"We'll be fine," intervened Sirius Black.
"Of that, I have no doubts. It just can take more time and effort than one might expect. Alright, go off then."
On his way back to the door, behind his friend, the same Black stopped and looked back at her.
"You know, cousin, you're alright for a teacher. I'm glad we got you this year. I hope you'll last longer than the others."
"I hope so too, Black. Now run away before I bring you to the Inferis."
He walked away with a trace of his mischievous smile back on his lips.
"Cousin... damned brat," she muttered to herself.