A beam of soft sunlight filtered through the high windows of the History of Magic classroom, illuminating the dust motes that danced lazily in the air. Cassie sat near the back, her quill tapping lightly against the edge of her parchment. Professor Binns droned on, his voice as steady and unremarkable as the autumn wind outside, but Cassie's mind was elsewhere. Instead, her thoughts wandered to her unlikely friendship with Aleksandr.
It had only been a little over a week since the Durmstrang students had arrived, yet Aleksandr felt like a fixture in her daily routine. She wasn't entirely sure how it had happened — first, a shared table at lunch, then running into him in the library, and now their conversations seemed to come easily, like they'd been friends for years. It had started with a casual comment during one of those awkward Great Hall meals, the kind that filled the air with chatter but left plenty of room for silence.
"You call this soup?" Aleksandr had muttered, holding up his spoon like it offended him.
Cassie, who had also been poking suspiciously at the same soup, had laughed despite herself. "You Durmstrang boys are too spoiled. It's better than whatever Snape brewed up in Potions this morning."
Since then, they'd found themselves drawn into easy conversations whenever they crossed paths — in the library, in the corridors, or even during meals. Cassie learned that Aleksandr was endlessly curious about Hogwarts and found her descriptions of life at the castle both amusing and baffling. Meanwhile, Aleksandr's stories of Durmstrang, with its strict discipline and frigid landscapes, fascinated her. Their friendship wasn't built on commonality so much as a mutual interest in how the other saw the world.
Cassie's quill stilled as her thoughts wandered to a particular lunchtime conversation a few days earlier. They'd been discussing protective enchantments, something they'd both been researching.
"You think that'll stop a rogue boggart? Please," Aleksandr had teased, leaning back in his seat with an air of smug confidence.
"It's theoretical," Cassie had shot back, rolling her eyes. "And probably better than your 'make everything out of dragonhide' solution."
Aleksandr had smirked, clearly enjoying her indignation. "A practical solution, you mean."
Their banter had been lighthearted, but Aleksandr's perceptiveness had taken her by surprise when he added, "You seem really invested in this stuff. Why?
Cassie had deflected with a shrug and a vague excuse about eventually needing to be prepared for N.E.W.T.s. What else could she say? That she spent hours researching protective charms because they made her feel like even she could hold the world together? That, even for just a moment, they let her believe she could honor her sister in a way that mattered? No, that wasn't a conversation she was ready to have.
The classroom stirred as chairs scraped against the floor, jolting her from her thoughts. Professor Binns had floated out through the wall, signaling the end of the lesson. Cassie gathered her books, lingering a moment as the other students shuffled toward the door.
Aleksandr had only been here a short time, but his presence felt oddly grounding — like he saw the cracks in her walls but wasn't about to push. That thought unsettled her almost as much as it comforted her.
With a sigh, she slung her bag over her shoulder and followed the others out, her mind still circling back to the conversation she hadn't had.
The hours droned on after History of Magic, a blur of notes Cassie barely glanced at and conversations she only half-heard. By the time she joined her friends in the Great Hall for lunch, the steady hum of Hogwarts life had given way to a new, undeniable energy — the kind that made the air crackle with possibility.
The Triwizard Tournament was the sole topic of conversation, weaving through the chatter like an unbreakable thread. Lorelei was in her element, her animated voice carrying above the clatter of plates as she declared, "It has to be Viktor Krum for Durmstrang. He's the youngest Seeker to ever play in the World Cup — it's practically fate."
Serena, across the table, gave an exaggerated sigh, leaning back with her arms crossed. "You've mentioned that, what, ten times now? I'd like to think Hogwarts' champions won't be overshadowed before the tasks even begin."
"I'm just being realistic," Lorelei shot back, undeterred. "Who else has that kind of experience?"
Padma's calm voice interjected, cutting through the theatrics. "There's more to the tournament than Quidditch skills, you know. Magical aptitude and quick thinking matter just as much."
Serena smirked, taking a sip of pumpkin juice. "Which is why Krum might actually lose, if his only trick is catching a Snitch."
The table erupted in laughter, but Cassie stayed quiet, picking at her lunch. The excitement buzzing around her felt distant, like a song playing in another room.
"Hogsmeade weekend is coming up," Serena said, turning to Cassie. Her grin took on a teasing edge. "What's the plan, Valencourt? Aleksandr tagging along for a cozy Butterbeer date?"
Cassie rolled her eyes, but her retort was interrupted by a flicker of movement. Just a few feet away, Fred Weasley was passing by their table, his steps deliberate and his gaze landing on her for just a heartbeat too long.
A quiet flutter ran through her chest, soft but unsettling, as if the world had shifted just a fraction. She didn't know what it meant, didn't want to know, but it was there — his gaze lingering, a brief connection she didn't know how to process.
"Cassie?" Serena's voice brought her back, her eyebrow arched in curiosity.
"Hmm?"
"Hogsmeade?"
Cassie shrugged, feigning indifference. "We'll see."
Serena raised her brow but didn't press. The chatter continued, but Cassie found herself distracted, her thoughts drifting back to Fred and that fleeting moment. She wasn't sure what had unsettled her — maybe it was the way his eyes had met hers, or the way the room seemed to stop for just a second — but whatever it was, it had her heart beat a little faster than it should.
Later that evening, after a hearty dinner in the Great Hall, the common room was alive with chatter. The soft glow of the fire reflected off the worn furniture, and students huddled together in small groups, discussing everything from the Triwizard Tournament to the next Hogsmeade weekend.
Cassie sank into one of the armchairs, grateful for the cozy warmth but not quite ready to lose herself in the buzz of conversation. Lorelei, Padma, and Serena were already deep in discussion, their voices carrying over the sound of crackling firewood.
"We'll definitely need to get something new for the ball," Lorelei was saying, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "You know, somethingstunningthis time. Maybe a midnight blue dress, something that'll make the Ravenclaw boys go crazy."
Serena snorted. "Like they'd go crazy for anything that doesn't involve Quidditch."
Padma rolled her eyes but smiled. "That's a bit harsh. Maybe you should give them more credit, Serena."
Cassie listened absently, her thoughts drifting until Lorelei turned toward her with a mischievous grin. "What about you, Cassie? Do you have a ball date yet? Or maybe you'll just bring Aleksandr along for somecharmingcompany?"
The mention of Aleksandr felt like a sudden jolt, and Cassie's heart skipped a beat. She glanced at Lorelei, trying to keep her face neutral. "I don't think that's a relationship I'm ready to have."
"Oh please," Lorelei teased, leaning forward, her voice dropping to an exaggerated whisper. "Everyone knows he's got eyes for you, Cass. You two have practically been inseparable since Durmstrang showed up. You're not fooling anyone."
Padma chuckled lightly, but there was a teasing glint in her eyes too. "I'd say you two are on your way to the unofficial couple of the year."
Serena raised an eyebrow, her tone half-amused and half-sarcastic. "If Aleksandr's coming along, should we even bother making plans? The two of you will probably disappear into some corner and talk about charms for hours."
The banter flew thick and fast, and Cassie felt the familiar rush of heat to her cheeks, her mind swimming with images of Aleksandr and her laughing over charms, their shared moments of quiet understanding. But it was all too much, too quick — everything from the teasing to the weight of the expectations swirling around her.
For a brief moment, she found herself wishing for silence.
"You all talk about this way too much," Cassie muttered, rubbing the back of her neck as she stood up. "I'm going to take a walk. I'll catch up with you later."
Lorelei shot her a look of mock surprise. "Leaving already? You're not escaping us that easily, Cassie. We'll be talking about youandyour little romance prospects all night."
Cassie offered a quick smile but didn't linger, slipping out of the common room and into the hallway.
The laughter and chatter from the common room faded as Cassie climbed higher into the castle, her footsteps echoing softly against the stone steps. The air grew cooler with every step, and the sound of her own breathing filled the silence. By the time she reached the Astronomy Tower, the stillness wrapped around her like a heavy cloak. It was a welcome reprieve from the overwhelming energy of her friends' teasing.
She leaned against the cold stone parapet, letting the night air settle her thoughts as she looked up at the sky.
The stars were scattered across the inky blackness like shards of broken glass, glittering and endless. Cassie traced the constellations with her eyes, her fingers brushing lightly against the cool stone as if she could reach out and touch them.
The Astronomy Tower had always been her sanctuary, the one place where she could let her thoughts run free without interruption. Tonight, though, her mind was anything but free.
Her gaze landed on Sirius, the brightest star in the night sky, and her chest loved that one.
She let out a shaky breath, gripping the edge of the parapet. Her sister's voice came back to her, faint and fleeting, like a whisper carried in the wind. "Cassie, look! That one's Sirius! It's the brightest star! Just like me!" Calypso had giggled at her own joke, her straight black hair catching the sunlight as she pointed eagerly at the constellation. Cassie remembered how she used to tug at her sleeve, getting impatient for Cassie to look exactly where she wanted. Her voice was bright, teasing, full of life.
Cassie smiled faintly at the memory, but it quickly faded, swallowed up by the same heavy, familiar guilt.
She closed her eyes, letting the pain settle in her chest. The attack had come out of nowhere. They hadn't even known they were under threat. Cassie and Calypso had been home that day, playing in the garden. Their mother had been at St. Mungo's, working another long shift, and their father, an Auror, was in the kitchen, enjoying a rare day off. It had been an ordinary, sunny afternoon.
Until it wasn't.
Cassie could still hear the cracks of Apparition, the voices shouting curses, the chaos that erupted so quickly she hadn't known what to do. Their father's work had made them targets, though the attack wasn't personal—it was one of many strikes that day, a coordinated effort by Voldemort supporters to spread fear.
She remembered grabbing Calypso's hand, pulling her toward the house and towards their father as the garden erupted with spells. "Run!" she'd shouted. Calypso had tripped, and Cassie had turned back to help her. But it hadn't mattered. The screams, the flashes of green light, the smell of burning flesh and scorched earth. Calypso Valencourt was just eight years old when her life was snuffed out.
Her breath hitched as the memory tightened around her like a vice. When the attacks were reported in the papers the next day, there had been no mention of Calypso's name. Just a passing note about "several casualties, including children".
Cassie's hands clenched into fists.I should have protected her. I should have done something.
She opened her eyes, blinking up at the stars, but they offered no answers. Protective charms had become her obsession in the years since. She'd buried herself in them, convinced that mastering each one would somehow undo the helplessness she felt. Every time she successfully cast a shield, every time a charm held strong, it was like a small victory—one that made her feel as though she was doing justice to her sister's memory.
Even now, the thought lingered in her if I'd known more back then…maybe she'd still be here.
The stars above blurred as tears welled in her eyes. She wiped at them angrily, as if she could banish the pain along with the tears.
"I'll never let it happen again," she whispered to the empty sky. "Not to anyone else."
Her voice, even as quiet as it was, felt like a promise — a vow. To herself. To Calypso. To anyone she cared about. She wouldn't fail again.
The wind tugged at her hair, cooling the flush of her cheeks. The guilt would always be there, but so would her determination. She raised her gaze to the stars once more, whispering, "I won't let you down, Calypso. Not ever."
Her steps felt steadier as she made her way back inside, the sound of her feet against the stone steps grounding her. She wasn't sure what had shifted, but something about that moment made her feel a little more ready to face the chaos of the world below.
The week's excitement over the Triwizard Tournament continued to swell, but for Cassie, the days blended together, marked only by the quiet rhythm of classes and the occasional reprieve of solitude. It wasn't until she found herself outside the Great Hall, mid-conversation with Professor Flitwick, that the usual hum of Hogwarts life began to feel oddly quiet.
"…and while I know it's a bit early to be discussing next year's prefects," Professor Flitwick was saying, his voice cheerful as they lingered near the base of the marble staircase, "I couldn't help but think you'd be a wonderful candidate, Miss Valencourt. Your dedication to Charms alone—"
Cassie's eyes widened. "Me? A prefect?" She tried to keep her tone respectful, but the disbelief crept in. "Professor, I — I don't think I'd be the right choice."
"Nonsense," Flitwick replied, his eyes twinkling. "You've always had a knack for leadership. And your charm work continues to impress me. That Bombardment Spell you demonstrated in class last week was textbook perfect."
Cassie fidgeted, glancing down the corridor. She appreciated his faith in her, but the idea of being a prefect felt so far removed from anything she wanted. Prefects had to be…seen. Visible. Responsible for everyone else. She preferred to stay on the sidelines, quietly mastering her craft.
"Thank you, Professor," she said carefully, "but I think there are other students who might fit the role better."
Flitwick chuckled, waving a hand dismissively. "Humble as always. Well, we'll revisit the idea closer to term's end. In the meantime—"
Cassie barely noticed it at first: a faint chill, like the air had shifted. She frowned, glancing up toward the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, which was visible through the archway. Clear skies.
Then she heard it. A faint drip, drip, drip…
The next second, water came pouring down — not on her, but directly onto Professor Flitwick.