"Are you nervous?" – Duke Somhairle McMahon asked the short, black-haired girl sitting on a low chair opposite him. She wore her prettiest green dress, the colour bright against the dull grey of the room.
"A bit." – Flora replied, her voice faltering as she stared at her trembling hands. For the tenth time, her eyes darted to the massive oak doors at the far end of the room, her unease growing with every second.
"Don't worry." – her father said, smiling reassuringly – "Everything's going to be fine. We've been preparing for this moment for years. And after this is done, I'll take you to the sea, just as I promised."
The young witch nodded faintly and smiled back, though her heart wasn't in it. Her brown eyes, filled with a longing for freedom, wandered toward the doors again. She had spent years dreaming of escaping Feywood Heights, yearning to explore the world she had only read about. Yet now, as her dream loomed so close, fear crept into her chest, clawing at her resolve. She almost wished she could retreat to the safety of her room instead of waiting for strangers to decide her fate.
The room's oppressive silence was shattered as the heavy doors creaked open, their groan reverberating like the cry of some unseen beast. Somhairle stood, his expression pale but resolute. With a sharp nod to his daughter, he strode toward the Council's Hall, his boots echoing against the stone floor. Flora followed, her legs unsteady beneath her.
The hall they entered was an imposing chamber. Towering wooden beams arched across the vaulted ceiling, carved with intricate depictions of magical creatures and family crests. Rich tapestries of vibrant blues and golds lined the stone walls, recounting battles and legends, their colours glowing in the flickering light of candelabras and grand chandeliers. At the far end of the room, behind a long, polished mahogany table, eleven figures sat in high-backed chairs upholstered in deep burgundy velvet. One chair remained conspicuously empty—the seat of House McMahon. The atmosphere was stiff and uncomfortable. Flora felt as if all eyes were painfully fixated on her alone.
"Lady Florence Eleanor McMahon," – the hard voice of the only woman in the room echoed loud and clear – "You appear here by your own accord with the intent to prove to the Council that you have mastered control over the demonic entity sealed inside you by Morgana le Fay. Is that correct?"
The girl eyed her father nervously and swallowed. In her fourteen years, she had been mostly kept inside the McMahon's castle, interacting solely with her relatives. Being questioned in front of so many people—most of whom she was fairly certain would rather see her dead—felt intimidating. Seeing her hesitation, Somhairle stepped forward and cleared his throat.
"Your Grace," – he bowed to Duchess Isabella Prince, who acted as Head of the Council – "My daughter is not used to speaking in front of so many people she doesn't know. She's a very kind but shy child."
"A vile demon is what she is." – a large red-headed man with piercing sky-blue eyes and a bushy beard boomed, his voice filling the chamber.
"Alaric!" – Duchess Prince snapped, her violet eyes shooting the wizard a warning glare – "The Council will deliberate only after gathering the necessary proof. The Vessel shall approach and present her plea."
With that, the woman spread her palm over an old wooden box and mumbled: "Luxen dor vakor thar eradon dor ethel, venith tharnath dor yath ther dor elder."[1]
The box creaked open, revealing the intricate black dagger lying inside. Flora felt a sharp pain pass through her whole body in an instant, leaving her gasping for air.
"See?" – the wizard, Alaric, shouted, pointing at the girl – "The demon recognises the Skyfall Athame! What's there to discuss? She's not fit to be around people. It's evident she can't control herself, let alone the demon! Have we forgotten the bloody lessons of the past so quickly?!"
"Marquess Redmond!" – Duchess Prince interrupted him sharply, her tone laced with impatience – "So far, you're the only one here who seems incapable of controlling himself!"
Encouraged by the subtle defence, the black-haired girl gathered all her courage and spoke, trying to sound calm and confident as they had practiced with her father. "Lady Florence McMahon is honoured to greet the Council!" - she curtsied gracefully - "I come before thee as a testament that House McMahon keeps their promise and protect the world from the demon sealed in our bloodline. Despite the hard lessons and the victims we mourn every day, I am the living proof that we can control the demon and our daughters are not sentenced to madness and death with their very birth. At fourteen-years-old I stand here, without having any nightmares or leaking magic. My mind is strong and so are my powers."
Flora closed her eyes briefly, opening herself to the soul of the water. A huge shape stretched to the ceiling of the room, its body glistening under the candlelight.
"A fully developed Kraken-type at such a young age!" - Duke O'Dargan exclaimed in awe - "It's truly remarkable!"
"Only if it's really done with her own powers." - Marquess Whiters scoffed, eying the water avatar with cold scrutiny - "If she's tapping into the power of the demon, she could do things we haven't even dreamt of."
"My daughter's magic is not tainted by darkness," - Duke McMahon interjected decisively - "She excels both in elemental and regular magic, and her Occlumency skills are beyond reproach. There's no doubt Flora has tamed the demon and she's ready to be freed and claim her place in our world."
"I have quite a lot of doubt about it." - Marquess Redmond snapped angrily - "Young witches and wizards usually reach their full magical capacity at sixteen. Her power has yet to grow and there is no guarantee whatsoever that the demon can't break her resistance in the meantime. Hell, we don't even know if it's not a possibility even when she turns sixteen. This is a risk House Redmond is not willing to take."
A commotion erupted with everyone talking at the same time. Duchess Prince had to produce a loud bang from her wand in order to calm everyone down.
"I must say I agree with Alaric." - Duke Borealis spoke softly, glancing at the stunned Somhairle - "With all the respect to House McMahon, we're still recovering from Noreen's rampage thirty years ago. This is not a matter we can decide on lightly with such meeker proof. I would suggest that we should wait for at least two more years until we discuss again, once Lady McMahon turns sixteen."
"Unless she wipes us out in the meantime." - Marquess Redmond remarked sarcastically, glaring at the young witch with a mixture of hatred and disgust - "It's not like we haven't tried extensive training of the girls before. Every spell and ritual we are aware of had been performed and failed miserably. Are you all so scared of House McMahon you're afraid to voice the only rational option we have left? The Vessels must be killed upon birth to prevent the loss of innocent lives to that monster and there is no nice way to put this."
"Are you insane?" - Duke McMahon shouted, beyond himself with rage - "You want us to kill our own children? And you have the audacity of calling my daughter a monster?"
"There is some merit in House Redmond's suggestion." - Marquess Lovett admitted, his gaze lingering on Flora with a morbid fascination - "Perhaps we might dissect the vessels—examine their bodies more closely—to uncover the mysteries of the seal. Our knowledge from past experiments is woefully incomplete. The demon consumed its hosts, leaving only empty shells behind. But think of the potential!" His voice rose with feverish excitement. "We might strengthen the seal, sever the contract, or even annihilate the demon itself!"
Flora was listening intently to the conversation, but the more she heard, the more certain she became that this group of people didn't care one bit about her or what she wanted. The Heads of the other six Houses were supposed to guide both the Muggle and Wizarding worlds, but they were far from the wise and kind figures she had imagined. To them, she wasn't a person—she was a problem. And they were not shy about solving it, even if that meant locking her away or killing her as a "preventive measure."
The arguments blurred into an incoherent roar, each word striking her like a sharp lash. Her body felt heavy, stiff, as though it no longer belonged to her. The acrid smell of burning candles clawed at her throat, making her nauseous. Was it just her own thoughts spinning out of control? Or was the oppressive air in the chamber pressing down on her, trying to drown her?
"They don't care about you." - a voice hissed, low and venomous, slithering into her mind - "Aren't they lovely? You tried so hard to suppress me, to become someone they'd admire for your own power. And what did you get? They don't care about you, little girl. To them, you're darkness—an aberration. A problem to be solved."
The voice seemed to rise from the depths of her soul, coiled with malice and seduction.
"Many of these silly men indulge in the very darkness they claim to hate, did you know that? Hypocrites. They'll never let you be free, Flora, and you know it. Are you planning to waste away while they debate who will plunge the dagger into your heart? Water is patient, yes, but its destructive force rivals fire. Look at them! They don't even see you as human. Aren't you going to be a good girl and silently perish as they wish? Take my power. It's the only way you can truly be free, even for a little while. The knowledge is yours."
"This is a ridiculous suggestion!" – Duke McMahon shouted, red-faced – "Why would you change something that was already working just fine? Flora is better off with her family than scrutinised by a bunch of strangers. She hasn't done anything to deserve being exiled! You're advocating for some sick form of preventive punishment!"
"Preventive punishment? I'm advocating for everyone's safety!" - Marquess Redmond retorted, his voice sharp with fury - "Your House's judgment cannot be trusted, and the history of the vessels proves it! How many times have we witnessed your daughters going berserk, leaving floods of destruction for both Muggles and wizards alike? You focus on 'minor injustices,' McMahon, while conveniently ignoring the countless lives lost. This is for everyone's benefit!"
The Skyfall Athame pulsed softly at first, but with each beat, its glow deepened to a menacing crimson. Duchess Prince froze as her gaze darted to the young witch standing eerily still before the Council. Magic surged in chaotic currents, twisting violently as though desperate to escape the room. The sweet, round face of Flora McMahon was now pale as death, her kind brown eyes consumed by an ominous red light that burned from within.
The Council erupted in disarray as realisation dawned. Some bolted for the doors in fear while others fumbled for their wands, muttering incantations in trembling voices. Duke McMahon lunged toward his daughter, desperation etched across his face.
"Flora! It's me!" - he cried.
But before he could reach her, a sudden crack of magic sent him flying. A water whip lashed out, coiling around him like a serpent before slamming him into the stone floor. He landed heavily, his head striking the ground with a sickening thud. He lay still, his body limp and unmoving.
Marquess Redmond didn't falter. His eyes burned with an icy blue light as a lance formed in his hand, shimmering with the extracted soul of the water. The weapon seemed alive, shifting seamlessly between ice, liquid, and steam. He raised it high, his voice cutting through the chaos.
"Let's see how you deal with a real Kraken-type, demon!"
With a flick of his wrist, he hurled the lance toward Flora. It cut through the air like a comet, but even as a new lance materialised in his hand, the girl moved—unnaturally fast, as though gravity itself bent to her will.
The water whip in her hand erupted into flames—not the familiar vivid reds and yellows, but black fire with icy blue edges that seemed to drain the life from the air around it. The flames hissed and crackled, their heat impossibly intense yet devoid of any warmth, as though they fed on vitality itself.
The whip lashed out, its tip grazing Redmond's hand. His skin disintegrated in an instant, the charred remains scattering like ash. He screamed, a sound so raw and visceral that it echoed in the hearts of all who heard it. But Flora wasn't finished. Her glowing eyes narrowed as she raised her hand, and Redmond's body was wrenched into the air, bound by invisible forces.
She smiled sweetly, a grotesque mimicry of innocence, as her magic tore him apart. Blood sprayed across the chamber, splattering her from head to toe. Her laughter bubbled up, high-pitched and giddy, mingling with his agonized shrieks.
Spells flew toward her, a desperate volley of magic, but none found their mark. A barrier of Fiendfyre roared to life around her, its serpentine flames twisting and writhing with a mind of their own. The monstrous fire devoured the spells hungrily, its flames licking hungrily toward the Council members who dared attack, leaving Flora untouched in its centre.
The ceiling caved in with a deafening crash, burying half the room in rubble. The young witch glanced toward the remaining Council members with a dark promising smile on her face. Licking her bloody lips, Flora stretched her newly formed black wings and shot upward, vanishing into the blue sky.
Duchess Prince gasped for air, pinned beneath a heavy stone slab. Her right arm hung limp, broken, but she paid it no mind. Her focus was on the glowing Skyfall Athame clutched in her good hand, its light flickering weakly like a dying ember.
Dragging herself free from the debris, she surveyed the devastation. Blood pooled on the floor, mingling with shards of glass and charred stone. Her gaze found Somhairle McMahon's crumpled body lying amidst the wreckage, and a pang of sorrow pierced her chest.
"I'm sorry, my friend." – she whispered, her voice trembling as she limped toward him– "I wish I could give you a few moments more before you face the most horrible task of your life, but we don't have that luxury. Enervate!"
[1] From Lumirith: Light and darkness are one and whole, though they seem to dwell in different forms.
Catherine woke up with a gasp, her chest heaving as she struggled to orientate herself. She scanned the room, trying to piece together where she was—and more importantly—who she was.
'I had a Dreamless Sleep Potion.' – she thought irritably – 'Why on earth am I still dreaming? Have I built up a resistance? Do I need to increase the dose?'
The girl swung her legs over the bed and stood by the window, watching as the first light of dawn crept across the horizon. Sleep was her enemy now. She was either captured in the violent nightmares of Alecto's countless crimes or the equally painful visions of her ancestors who had succumbed to the demon. The latter were particularly agonising, as she could feel the deeply human emotions of the Vessels and also see and sense the reactions of those around them—all the hatred, fear, and resentment, but also the love of their families and their shattered hopes.
It was hard to determine which was worse: the sinking feeling of losing her humanity over and over again or the climactic pleasure of torturing and killing.
A vivid image suddenly rose in her mind: Flora, drenched in Alaric Redmond's blood. The memory was so visceral that it turned her stomach. She gagged, the phantom scent and taste of blood clinging to her senses like a curse.
Rushing to the bathroom, Catherine dropped to her knees and vomited until her stomach ached. Her breath came in shallow gasps as she shakily stripped off her clothes and turned on the shower. She stepped under the scalding stream, letting the water cascade over her, as though it could wash away what wasn't there.
She scrubbed her skin furiously, over and over, until it burned. The sensation of blood lingered and she just couldn't shake it off. She thought she'd grown numb to these visions, that she'd built walls around her mind. But tonight had proven her wrong.
When the young witch finally stepped out of the shower, her skin was raw and streaked with angry red scratches from her frantic scrubbing. Cursing softly under her breath, Catherine dried off and made her way back to her room.
Daylight was already creeping through the curtains. She glanced at the clock and sighed, knowing someone would soon come to wake her. Pulling herself together, she quickly dressed, her hands still trembling slightly.
Due to the terrifying attack in London on the day they had returned from France, Duke McMahon insisted that the family stays in Cambridge instead of one of their apartments in the capital, opting to travel to King's Cross on the morning of September 1st. While this arrangement was rather inconvenient, Catherine understood his concern and didn't complain. Witnessing the explosions, even from a distance, had been harrowing enough, but learning about the sheer number of Muggle deaths and the abductions of Muggle-borns had been outright chilling. Suddenly, it all felt disturbingly real—far more so than simply reading about it in the Daily Prophet.
When Louisa knocked on her door, the young witch was already dressed and ready to leave. Before heading out, the girl paused in front of the mirror, sighing with exasperation. She knew her new look would inevitably draw attention, but she had hoped that choosing simple, plain clothes would help downplay it.
However, there were a few details she hadn't accounted for. A loose white shirt and jeans had seemed like a practical choice in theory, but the reality was different. The shirt, despite its casual style, clung suggestively over her chest no matter how she adjusted it. Tucking it into her jeans helped a little, but then her backside became the focal point. After a moment of hesitation, she decided that tying a jacket or sweater around her waist might at least partially solve the issue.
"It's warm outside. Why do you need that?" – Louisa asked critically as she spotted her daughter walking out the door.
"I'm cold." – the girl lied, trying to appear as casual about the whole ordeal as possible.
The plan, however, turned out to be a failure because within minutes, the heat forced the girl to abandon the extra layer. Despite her usual resistance to temperature fluctuations, sweat had already started forming, and she realised she'd have to choose between two awkward outcomes: being stared at for her figure or for having sweat stains. After a moment of deliberation, the teenager opted for the first scenario, muttering to herself as she reluctantly tossed the jacket aside.
The trip from Cambridge to King's Cross was uneventful. Catherine deliberately sat apart from her family to avoid drawing attention to their connection and passed the time reading the latest issue of Cosmopolitan. The magazine was filled with tips and tricks on how to get a man to notice you, and the young witch pored over them with meticulous curiosity, wondering if they would work on teenage wizards as well.
Once they arrived in London, the bustling crowds at the station quickly separated the girl from her parents and brother. Unbothered, she found a trolley and began the arduous task of loading her heavy suitcase, Orion's cage, and Nyx's carrier. Just as she was struggling with the last piece, a large man in an ill-fitted suit approached her.
"Beauties like yourself shouldn't be lifting such heavy things!" – he said with a goofy grin, effortlessly loading her luggage while somehow managing to stare at her the entire time.
"Thank you." – Catherine replied awkwardly, stepping back as she felt his gaze linger on her. She hurried away, unease prickling at the back of her neck.
For the first time, the girl began to understand her mother's warnings about the kind of attention she would receive from men—unwanted and often unsettling. The experience left a sour taste in her mouth. It was one thing to dream about Sirius's surprised expression or the admiration in his eyes, and something else entirely to see the greedy, lustful looks of strangers. The way they seemed to undress her with their stares, without any regard for her disinterest or her age, was disturbing. It made her feel vulnerable in a way she hadn't anticipated, and she found herself wishing she could become invisible.
Finally reaching the barrier between platforms 9 and 10, Catherine realised she had another problem: getting through unnoticed. Twice she tried, and each time she was thwarted by the watchful eyes of nearby Muggles. On her second attempt, a man puckered his lips and made exaggerated kissing gestures in her direction, sending a wave of revulsion through her.
Torn between the anxiety of missing the Hogwarts Express and the temptation to hex the obnoxious Muggle, the witch nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt an arm wrap around her waist.
"Do you need help getting through the barrier, Daisy?" – a familiar voice teased.
"Lils!" - Catherine exclaimed, spinning around to face the red-haired witch. Her initial relief was quickly replaced by surprise - "You scared me! How did you even recognise me?"
Lily chuckled, her green eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well, I just looked for the most gorgeous girl at the station." - she said playfully, then added with a smile - "Honestly, despite what you wrote in your letter, I wasn't expecting such a dramatic change. But after watching you for a bit, it became obvious. Your posture, your gestures, the way you're always playing with your hair—how could I not recognise you? Plus, your eyes are the same."
"It feels so weird." – Catherine admitted with a frown – "Everyone's staring, and I feel more like a piece of meat than a person. It's annoying and disgusting at the same time. I was trying to slip by unnoticed, but it seems impossible with so many people around."
"Don't worry," – the red-headed witch said cheerfully, trying to lift her friend's spirits – "Mom and Dad can help cover for us."
It was then that Catherine finally noticed Lily's parents standing nearby. Her father was holding Freyja's cage, and her mother was smiling warmly.
"This must be Catherine we've heard so much about!" – she exclaimed with a laugh that sounded strikingly like her daughter's – "I'm Rose, and this is Timothy. It's so lovely to finally meet you! You must come visit us during one of the holidays!"
"Uh… yeah, sure." – the black-haired girl mumbled, blushing slightly, unsure of how to respond. Thankfully, Lily stepped in.
"We'll talk about it another time." – she said quickly, motioning toward the barrier – "We need to go now, or we'll be late—and I can't be late! I'm a Prefect, after all!"
"You are?" – the other witch asked in owe asked in awe but quickly recovered – "Congratulations!"
"Yeah, right," – Lily replied with a smirk – "Like you and your friends won't make me curse the day I got that badge. Come on, follow me!"
The new Gryffindor Prefect grabbed Catherine's hand and led her to the very edge of the barrier. She positioned their trolleys behind them and signalled to her parents, who, under the pretence of exchanging hugs, discreetly shielded the girls from view. With quick, practiced steps, the two witches moved backward through the barrier and emerged onto platform 9, where the Hogwarts Express was already emitting thick clouds of steam.
The fifth-years hurried through the throngs of parents and students. Catherine didn't even glance around to see if anyone she knew had noticed her. They loaded their suitcases onto the train and managed to find an empty compartment.
"I have to go to the first carriage to get instructions with the other Prefects." – Lily said, looking slightly worried – "Are you going to be alright on your own for a while?"
"Lils, my appearance changed, but I'm still the same person." – the other witch replied, adjusting her high ponytail – "I've got my wand, and Nyx is better than any guard dog. Go on and fulfil your duty!"
Lily rolled her eyes and left, leaving Catherine alone, feeling far less self-confident than she had sounded. As the train pulled away from the station, a sinking feeling settled in her chest. There was no turning back now—no escape from facing everyone's reaction to her new self.
Nearly an hour passed uneventfully. Students darted up and down the corridors, laughter and chatter filling the train. Occasionally, someone would glance curiously into the compartment, but nobody stopped or bothered the fifth-year. She guessed they weren't entirely sure if she was even a student.
The peace and quiet, however, didn't last long.
The glass door slid open abruptly, and Catherine looked up from the book she had been reading. Her stomach sank when she saw who had barged in: Rodolphus Lestrange, Thorfinn Rowle, and Caelum Parkinson. It was, without question, one of the most unpleasant groups she could have imagined.
As expected, Lestrange took the lead, standing in the doorway with an exaggerated smile that might have been meant to be charming, though it was entirely undermined by the smug, snickering expressions of his companions.
"Well, hello, miss!" – he greeted, bowing with a theatrical flourish. The cramped space made the movement awkward, and the girl had to resist the urge to scoff – "I've heard you're new to our school, and we simply couldn't let you sit here all by yourself. Why don't you join us in our compartment? We'll show you a good time. You'll quickly learn that having the right company is essential at Hogwarts. And, of course, Slytherin House boasts the finest wizards and witches you'd want to associate with." He paused, his smile widening as he tilted his head. "I presume you're from abroad? Which year are you enrolling in?"
While Lestrange rambled, both Rowle and Parkinson were openly sizing the young witch up, their gazes sweeping over her from head to toe. They exchanged smirks, their approval uncomfortably obvious.
Catherine's mind raced as she tried to decide how to handle the situation. She was used to dealing with Slytherins—she'd faced their hatred, insults, and even outright violence before—but this was new territory.
Lestrange and his friends were undeniably annoying, and she wanted nothing more than to get rid of them. But hexing him outright? That would draw far more attention to her than she wanted. Besides, starting the year off with a detention was something she would rather avoid.
Thankfully, her dilemma was abruptly solved when Lily returned, forcing her way into the compartment with purpose, roughly pushing the seventh-years aside. Her emerald green eyes quickly assessed the scene as she planted herself firmly between Catherine and the Slytherins, tossing her red hair back with an air of defiance.
"Do you need something, Lestrange?" – she asked, her tone dripping with barely veiled disdain.
"That doesn't concern you, Evans." – the wizard hissed, his composure slipping as he wrestled between annoyance and his attempt to make a good impression on the new girl – "The young lady and I were having a pleasant chat, and if you don't mind, we'd prefer if you left us alone."
"Really?" – Lily sneered, folding her arms and raising a sceptical eyebrow – "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like Catherine would much rather prefer you to leave us alone. Honestly, you're nothing more than filthy, basic excuses for wizards who will say or do anything just to get under a witch's robes. It's pathetic."
Rodolphus' polite facade shattered. His face twisted in anger as he spat, "Watch your mouth, Mudblood! If you're not careful, neither Snape nor that shiny badge of yours will be enough to protect you from an enraged Basilisk. Know your place!"
"How terrifying!" – Catherine finally interjected with a cool chuckle as she rose gracefully to her feet. Her wand was in her hand before the Slytherins could react, its tip pointed directly at them – "You know, no matter how big a snake is, you can always deal with it by crushing its head. Shall we test that theory?"
The seventh-years stared, bewildered, at the witch standing confidently before them. Rodolphus cursed under his breath. This was not how he had expected things to go. He had come hoping to catch a glimpse of the stunning beauty everyone was whispering about. If she was as hot as Evan Rosier had assured him, he'd planned to quickly work his charm and invite her to their compartment.
Now, however, he was utterly confused. Evans' presence was an annoyance, sure, but hardly an obstacle he couldn't overcome. The black-haired chick, who looked awkward and out of place, was probably an exchange student. Evans had a habit of protecting the weak and troubled, which likely explained her interference. But the girl Evans called Catherine—standing before them with her wand drawn and an arrogant smile curling her lips—acted not exactly in the way he had anticipated.
Why was she so aggravated? Was it because he'd called the stupid Gryffindor a Mudblood? Maybe she was Muggle-born too and had taken offense? Rodolphus frowned, trying to piece it together, his mind racing to find a way to salvage the situation and still score with the mysterious witch.
Then he heard it: a loud, angry hissing sound. His attention snapped to the source—a carrier on one of the seats. Before he could react, Evans laughed sharply and reached for the carrier door.
A large black Kneazle burst out, launching itself straight at Thorfinn. The bulky Slytherin yelped, flailing as he desperately tried to free his hand from the creature's sharp teeth.
"Get it off me!" - he bellowed, shaking his arm.
Caelum pulled out his wand and aimed a Stunning Spell at the Kneazle, but the creature dodged with surprising agility, leaping effortlessly into Catherine's arms.
"Good girl, Nyx." – she purred, stroking the sleek black monster while keeping her wand trained on the three Slytherins.
Rodolphus glared at the Kneazle, his irritation mounting. And then, something clicked. He remembered seeing this exact Kneazle named Nyx before. It was an infuriating creature, owned by an equally infuriating witch. His gaze locked onto the girl's jade-green eyes, and the realisation struck him like a Bludger to the head.
"Fucking unbelievable!" – he muttered almost devastated, turned on his heel and stalked out of the compartment, motioning for his baffled companions to follow.
"I think we totally ruined his day." – Catherine said with a smirk, scratching Nyx behind the ears.
"More like his entire week." – Lily replied, chuckling – "I will forever savour the look on his face when he figured out who you were, Daisy!"
Before the other girl could respond, a familiar voice came from the door.
"Hey, Evans, everything okay?" - Sirius asked, leaning casually against the doorframe - "I saw Lestrange and his goons bolting out of here like they'd seen the Grim or something."
Catherine took a deep breath, willing her heart to stop pounding so wildly against her chest. There he was—Sirius Black—leaning casually against the compartment's half-open door. He wore jeans and a white T-shirt with the logo of the Muggle band The Who, the fabric clinging just enough to hint at the lean muscle beneath. His dark hair fell into his stormy grey eyes with effortless elegance, slightly tousled as if he'd just stepped off a broomstick. Over the summer, he had clearly filled out, his shoulders broad and his posture exuding an easy confidence that made him seem untouchable. The faintest hint of stubble added a rugged charm that only heightened his allure. Even the way he stood, relaxed yet self-assured, seemed to draw the light toward him. He was the kind of wizard who could step into a room and make every head turn without even trying.
Warmth spread across the young witch's face, and she was certain her cheeks were now as red as Lily's hair. Her gaze flicked past Sirius to notice James standing just behind him, trying to peer inside while feigning disinterest. It was clear he was the one who had sent Sirius ahead to check on Lily—but now he was also too impatient to stay away. A little farther back, Remus and Peter hovered around the corridor, scanning the nearby compartments, probably checking for any lurking Slytherins.
"Well," – Lily said, barely able to suppress her laughter – "Rodolphus certainly had a transcendent experience. One that'll haunt him for a while."
"Uh… sure, if you say so." – Sirius replied, looking slightly confused. His eyes swept over the compartment, taking everything in. When his gaze landed on Catherine, it paused briefly, and she squirmed under his attention. He hadn't recognised her, but the smug smile tugging at his lips showed his evident approval.
"I hope your friend here didn't get a bad first impression of Hogwarts." - he added with a charming smile - "Not every wizard here resembles—or behaves like—a mountain troll."
Lily rolled her eyes and let out an exaggerated sigh. "That's true. But unfortunately, the ones who don't are a rare breed."
With that, the red-haired witch strode to the door, nudging the boys aside without hesitation. Taking a few steps out, she turned back to Catherine with a mischievous wink. "I'm leaving you with your trolls, Daisy. Looks like you've got some things to talk about."
As Lily walked down the corridor, there was a brief, almost comical pause. Then, James shoved Sirius aside and burst into the compartment, his jaw dropping as he stared at Catherine in utter shock. Hugging Nyx tightly to her chest, the young witch felt unease spreading through her like wildfire.
She dared a glance at Sirius. He was still standing at the door, his mouth slightly open, his grey eyes darting between her face and the black Kneazle in her arms. He looked like he was trying to speak, but no sound was coming out.
Before the silence could stretch any further, Remus stepped forward, ushering Sirius and Peter into the compartment, shutting the door behind them. With an air of calmness that seemed at odds with the tension in the small premise, he crossed over to Catherine and wrapped her in a warm hug, ignoring the loud, angry hissing from Nyx.
"I'm so glad you look healthy again!" - he said with a wide smile, his words breaking the tension like a ray of light cutting through dark clouds.
The countryside rolled by in hues of fading green and gold, the first hints of autumn brushing the edges of the trees, while distant farmhouses sat nestled amidst fields still clinging to the warmth of summer.
None of that warmth, however, reached the cold, black eyes of the young wizard staring absently out the window of the Hogwarts Express. Severus shivered inside his new leather jacket, the dragon hide doing little to ward off the icy chill that had taken root deep within him. Ever since that fateful evening, it seemed no amount of heat could chase the cold from his bones.
He had tried, with little success, to push thoughts of his mother out of his mind. The nightmares were bad enough—relentless torment every time he dared to close his eyes—which left him avoiding sleep whenever possible. The result was written all over his face: deep purple shadows etched under his eyes, making his pale complexion appear even more haggard than usual.
Not that his appearance was a major concern, but the idea of Lily thinking he looked repulsive lingered unpleasantly in his thoughts. He hadn't managed to catch a glimpse of her before the train departed, and she was likely occupied with the other Prefects. They had so much to discuss, but he wasn't sure where to begin. He needed to tell her about his mother's death—that much was certain—but the thought of her pitying him made his stomach churn.
Severus sighed, frustration bubbling to the surface. The last few days had been a relentless whirlwind of emotions, one that left him both mentally and physically drained. His mother had chosen to leave him in the most cowardly way imaginable, tearing a gaping wound in his soul that he doubted would ever fully heal. Shame and guilt clawed at him with every passing moment. Shame that he hadn't noticed the signs. Guilt that he hadn't done enough to show Eileen a reason to stay in this world. These feelings ignited a simmering rage—against her for giving up, against himself for failing her, against his late father who had shattered her spirit, and against his newly reappeared grandfather who had come into their lives far too late to make a difference.
Granted, Alexander was grieving too, his pain evident in every word and gesture. Yet despite his grief, the man's efforts to bond with his grandson felt hollow, almost transactional. He had taken the boy to his vast, empty mansion, handed him more gold for "pocket money" than Severus had seen in his entire life, and bluntly explained that he was a descendant of Merlin, an aristocrat, and the potential heir to one of the major Houses.
All this still felt like a bad joke. Severus knew his grandfather had no reason to lie, but the whole thing seemed too surreal to believe. In the brief time they had spent together before his departure to Hogwarts, Alexander had unloaded a deluge of information about aristocrats—their history, their intricate web of relationships, and their internal and external politics. It was overwhelming, and the young wizard was still struggling to process the weight of everything Duke Prince had shared.
"For now, it's best if you remember one thing and remember it well, Severus." – Alexander instructed during their last dinner together. His tone was firm, each word measured – "Becoming the heir of House Prince is not a simple affair. Yes, Merlin's blood runs through your veins, but that alone is not enough. You must also be recognised by the other six Major Houses. Your position is a combination of your lineage and the secret Ancient Rituals we perform to bestow the family's secrets and the status of an aristocrat. These rituals must be approved by the Council. It's a safeguard—ensuring that no tyrant can occupy the seat of a House and that each of us possesses the necessary skills and power to fulfil our duties."
"You have potential, but you're very far behind in your education and training. That's why I want you to keep your association with House Prince a secret until we've at least caught up with your Elemental magic training. We'll also need to work on other skills, such as proper manners in high society, dancing, fencing, and a few additional skills that come with your station." - he paused, his sorrowful violet eyes fixed on the boy - "Do you, at the very least, speak any foreign languages?"
"I speak a bit of French." – Severus replied curtly, feeling every bit the peasant under his grandfather's scrutinising gaze – "I can learn anything—and quickly—but are you sure the fact that my father was a Muggle won't be an obstacle to inheriting the title?"
"Pardon?" – the Duke asked confused, then he sighed deeply – "I suppose you've been surrounded by those so-called purebloods for far too long. We'll need to address these beliefs of yours eventually, but we don't have the time for it now." - his tone grew sharper, more authoritative - "Engrave this into your skull, boy: you are an aristocrat. The magic in our blood is so strong that it cannot be diluted by Muggles. If anything, marrying them strengthens our lineage by cleansing it of interference from other wizarding families, thereby amplifying our unique powers."
"This will never be an issue for you. However, bigoted and uninformed statements like that could be. That is why I insist you keep your 'half-blood' façade a while longer. I will speak with Dumbledore to arrange permission for your training. I only hope you're mature enough to resist the urge to brag about this in front of your friends."
"I don't have anyone to whom I'd brag." - Severus said nonchalantly, though the doubt lingering in his voice suggested he wasn't entirely convinced by his grandfather's words.
"That may seem like a bad thing, but you'd be surprised how quickly you'll acquire 'friends' once they know who you are." – the Duke said wisely, his expression hardening – "Believe me, you're better off without those types around you."
Severus sighed again. In principle, he did agree with Alexander's advice, but he couldn't help longing for the admiration and attention his new status would undoubtedly bring. He imagined the respect he'd command, even from Basilisks like Lestrange. By default, he would rise to the top of the House hierarchy. Nobody would dare to touch him, intimidate him, or hurl insults his way anymore. In fact, he'd finally have everything he had envied Greg McMahon for… except for Lily.
That was the part that unsettled him most. He wasn't entirely sure his newfound status would change the way Lily saw him, and that thought was both comforting and terrifying. He wanted her to love him for who he was, not for his title or wealth. But deep down, he knew he would never have McMahon's easy charm, his light-hearted personality, or his effortless good looks.
It was already difficult enough to control himself in her presence—to carefully measure his words, his tone, his reactions. He had to make sure he didn't scare her with his intensity, the things he admired, or the fierce determination with which he pursued what he wanted. Being around Lily was like walking a tightrope between light and darkness, struggling to partially conceal the shadows in his soul while trying not to frighten the bright fairy who loved sunshine and laughter.
'What if they don't accept me as the heir of House Prince after all?' – the young wizard thought, biting his lips – 'What if it does matter that I'm Tobias' son? Didn't Alexander say I was already behind in studying Elemental magic? What if I can't master it at this age? What if I fail?'
The doubts swirled relentlessly in his mind, and the weight of uncertainty pressed on his chest. 'It's probably best if I don't tell Lily for now.' - he concluded reluctantly - 'I don't want to look like a fool if the Council deems me unworthy.'
"Honestly, if she comes from Beauxbatons, we might all stand a chance." – Evan Rosier's unpleasant voice cut through the young wizard's thoughts – "I've heard those chicks really dig Hogwarts wizards, and they're quick to put out."
"Don't you have anything better to talk about?" – Severus asked annoyed – "How can you obsess over this girl for an entire hour? If I have to hear one more time about how firm her butt is or what bra size she supposedly wears, I think I might actually start throwing up."
"That's because you've got zero chance with her, Snape!" – Rosier retorted with a sly grin – "Let's be real—someone like that would never go for a broke, half-blood like you. And even if we set that aside, you're too ugly and gross. She wouldn't look your way twice, even if you were Salazar Slytherin's long-lost heir."
Severus's lips curled into a cold, mocking smile. "Unlike you, Rosier, I have higher standards than chasing anything with a pair of boobs that jiggles when it moves. But between the two of us," - he added, his voice dangerously low - "I wouldn't be so sure who's the more undesirable party. I don't see much demand for pimple-faced boys with small brains and even smaller…"
"Anything off the trolley, dears?"
The smiling witch's cheerful voice broke through the charged atmosphere. Rosier had risen to his feet, his face red with anger, but Severus ignored him completely. For the first time in his life, he had enough gold to buy anything he wanted. Without sparing a glance at his furious classmate, he went outside, reached for his pocket and handed the woman several coins. Moments later, to the astonishment of everyone in the compartment, Severus returned to his seat with a pile of Chocolate Frogs, Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, and even a few sugar quills, which he began unwrapping immediately.
"Huh?" - Tarquin Avery scoffed, raising his eyebrows – "Snape's got money? Gringotts must have started handing out free gold."
"Not just that."- Cassius Mulciber chimed in with a grin – "He's somehow got a decent jacket. Is that dragon hide?"
"Now it all makes sense," - Rosier sneered, a wicked smile creeping onto his face - "That must be why you're not interested in that knockout witch. To get that much gold, you must be sucking Lucius Malfoy's dick—and apparently, you're quite good at it."
Before Evan could take another breath, Severus's wand was pressed firmly against his throat. The rest of the Slytherins froze, their smiles vanishing instantly. They all knew what it meant when Snape pulled his wand—things had gone beyond a joke.
"What are you all doing?" - Ethan Wilkes asked as he stepped into the compartment, his curious eyes taking in the tense scene in front of him.
"Break it up, boys!" – Mulciber chuckled – "You wouldn't want Ethan giving you his first detention. He's probably saving it for the Gryffindors."
Severus glanced at Wilkes, who was already wearing his shiny new Prefect badge. Deciding it wasn't worth earning a detention just for the temporary satisfaction of cursing an insignificant bug like Rosier, he lowered his wand.
'He'll eat his words sooner or later.' – the boy thought, a smirk tugging at his lips as he imagined the other boy's face when he eventually saw him wearing the Prince family crest—or better yet, when Severus told Lucius about his name being dragged through the mud.
"You're quite right there, pal." – Ethan said with a grin, dropping into the seat across from Severus – "By the way, you won't believe who that hot girl on the platform turned out to be."
"Isn't she some lusty French exchange student?" – Rosier asked with disappointment.
"Nope!" – the other boy replied, practically vibrating with excitement as he tried to hold back his dramatic revelation – "It's actually Catherine fucking Plantier. Though, I guess she's half-French, so your dream isn't entirely dead."
"What?!" – Mulciber and Avery exclaimed in unison, their faces lit with shock.
"Stop lying!" – Rosier snapped, his face turning red with anger – "There's no way in hell that goddess is the same scrawny, flat, ugly, arrogant Mudblood! Screw puberty! Even magic couldn't change someone that drastically!"
"Believe it or not, the choice is yours." - Ethan said with a shrug, clearly enjoying the chaos his news had caused. - "Thorfinn Rowle's just told me they went to invite her to their compartment, and apparently Plantier unleashed that hellish Kneazle of hers on them. Evans was there too—called her Catherine. What more proof do you need?"
"Is Lily alright?" – Severus asked tensely, but his question went unanswered as the rest of the Slytherins erupted into animated chatter, discussing Plantier's alleged transformation into the new beauty queen of Hogwarts.
Leaning back in his seat, the young wizard chewed on a Cauldron Cake, deciding that if Rowle had been so traumatised by the Kneazle, both Gryffindors were likely fine. While he couldn't have cared less about Plantier or her looks, he was glad Lily had stood her ground and didn't let anyone bully her.
Still, the more he thought about it, the more irritated he became with the blasted witch. It was as though, no matter where he went or what he did, her shadow always seemed to hang over him. A faint memory flickered in his mind—Lily telling him he might need to come up with a new way to insult the girl, as her appearance wouldn't work anymore.
It all made sense now. Whatever Plantier had done to change herself, Lily had clearly known about it in advance.
Severus clenched his teeth, his frustration rising with every passing second. Even through the haze of dulled apathy left by his mother's death, he could still feel—clear as day—the sheer annoyance that Catherine Plantier's very existence brought him.
"Well, don't all rush to speak at once!" – Catherine finally said after five agonising minutes of silence, interrupted only by Nyx's hissing from inside the carrier where her owner had placed her to prevent her friends from being scratched or bitten.
"How was everyone's summer vacation?" – Peter asked in a desperate attempt to make the atmosphere less awkward.
"Is this really what you want to ask?" – James scoffed, clearly annoyed. He was still staring at Catherine, his face a mixture of disbelief, confusion, and frustration.
"Can we not make this into a bigger deal than it actually is?" – the young witch asked tiredly, although she knew her plea was futile.
"What do you mean it's not a big deal?!" – James almost yelled, his face turning red – "You look… I mean… You're…"
"Hot?" – Peter suggested helpfully, earning an angry growl from Sirius.
"Completely different, for fuck's sake!" – James finished, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes in exasperation – "That whole sudden trip to France was suspicious enough, but I seriously doubt fresh air and French cuisine alone caused this transformation."
"What if they did?" – Catherine replied, feeling her anger bubbling under the surface. While she had expected quite a few questions from the boys, that aggressive and hostile attitude was getting on her already frayed nerves.
"Bullshit!" – James snapped, taking a step closer. They were now the same height, and Catherine could see the hurt and distrust mingling in his hazel eyes – "How dumb do you think we are, Flame? Even your voice is different, for Merlin's sake! I'm not sure if that's you at all!"
"Want me to hex you as proof?" – the young witch suggested, forcing a joke, but her lips trembled, and tears threatened to spill.
Remus, who was sitting on the seat across from her, noticed and quickly intervened. "Come on, it's certainly a big change, but it's not unheard of." - he said softly, trying to calm everyone down - "Remember how much I changed during last summer?"
"Yeah, Moony, but even your transformation was less drastic!" – James insisted, shaking his head – "Plus, there was quite a good explanation for that accelerated development. You're a werewolf, after all. What's her excuse? I don't think werepanther is a thing."
"What kind of nonsense are you sprouting?" – Catherine hissed, her eyes full of annoyance as she headed toward the door of the compartment – "Fine! If my appearance is such a problem for you, you don't have to be anywhere near me!"
The young witch put her hand on the door, but Sirius quickly grabbed her wrist and pulled her back in, forcing her to take a seat a bit more roughly than she had anticipated.
"You're not getting off the hook so easily, Flame!" – he barked, his gaze intensely fixated on the girl – "What did you expect? We were all so worried about your weight loss, and all of a sudden you appear looking completely different. I'm glad that your problem was fixed, but did you really think we weren't going to ask about it?"
"I understand it's shocking." – Catherine replied, trying to keep her voice neutral and provide her friends with some sort of explanation, fully aware their reaction was driven by their love and concern – "But isn't the important thing that I'm fine now?"
"It is important." – Sirius said immediately – "However, it's not all the same how this happened. I know you've been insecure because of your… uhm… because of the other girls at Hogwarts and some things that happened last year, but that's hardly a reason to take such drastic measures."
"You think I did this on purpose?" – the young witch asked in utter disbelief – "If I had the choice, I wouldn't have turned into this… I hate how people, especially men, look at me! Don't you think that if you see me like a completely different person, I also feel the same way—except about my own body?! It's hardly a pleasant feeling. I can't believe you're making such a big deal just because I have boobs now! What's your fucking problem?"
"My fucking problem is that you're hiding something huge from us!" – James retorted angrily – "And I'm not talking about your boobs! I wouldn't care if they were twice their current size! How can we trust you when you don't trust us enough to share what happened? Do you think we'd judge you? That we wouldn't keep your secret? We've been through so much together, Flame! What else can we do to prove ourselves worthy of your trust?!"
"Prongs is completely right." – Sirius nodded, his handsome face devoid of his usual grin – "And you have no idea how dangerous it is to look like… like you. Haven't you read the Daily Prophet this summer? The Death Eaters are abducting Muggle-born witches and doing Merlin knows what to them. You're already a target! Looking like this, it's similar to painting a bull's-eye on your forehead! Hogwarts isn't necessarily a guarantee that you'll be safe."
Catherine took a deep breath, her friends' words echoing in her ears. She opened her mouth, ready to confess everything, but stopped herself. A carefully conditioned barrier in her mind silenced her before she could utter a single word. It wasn't just about her family's safety. Revealing her identity would drag the boys into the world of aristocrats and their skirmishes, potentially more dangerous than facing Death Eaters. And there was something else… One lesson she had learned from other Vessels' experiences was how people reacted to someone who carried a demon. It might have been justified and natural for humans to be scared, but the thought of seeing that fear in the eyes of James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter made her heart ache as if stabbed by hot needles.
"I didn't do anything." – the girl finally whispered, her head hanging low, fighting tears of helplessness – "I don't know how else to say it—it just happened. Whether you trust me or not is your choice, but I'm not lying to you."
The young witch felt a slight shift beside her and realised that someone had just sat down next to her. Remus' hand gently squeezed hers, and he smiled, his lips forming the silent words, "I believe you."
A wave of gratitude surged through her, especially since the rest of her friends didn't show quite the same attitude. James was staring out the window, biting his lip in frustration. Peter's eyes flickered between him and Sirius, his expression conflicted, while Sirius, avoiding Catherine's gaze entirely, seemed utterly fascinated by the floor.
To say that the remaining part of the journey was awkward would have been an understatement. Remus did try to create some kind of conversation, but neither of his classmates seemed in the mood to speak.
When they finally arrived at the station in Hogsmeade, it was already dark outside. Despite this, Catherine felt many eyes fixed on her as she stepped off the train and headed towards the carriages pulled by Thestrals—the ominous skeleton-like horses visible only to those who had seen death.
Entering the Great Hall under the Enchanted Ceiling, which reflected the cloudless sky outside, the attention stayed on the young witch. Some people from the tables furthest from the Gryffindor one even stood up to get a better look at her. Deciding she needed a break, Catherine took a seat next to Lily, effectively ditching the boys who didn't protest at all, further hurting her feelings.
Preoccupied with her own troubles, the black-haired girl found it hard to concentrate on the Sorting ceremony. She only lifted her head when Gilderoy Lockhart, Gwendolyn's brother, confidently approached the front, sat on the three-legged stool, and was proclaimed a new Ravenclaw by the Sorting Hat. He walked to their table with a big smile and an air of importance that almost made the fifth-year chuckle despite her ongoing issues.
'I'm starting to see what Gwendolyn meant.' – Catherine thought with amusement, which was short-lived as she was roughly elbowed by her classmate, Gwyneth Jones, who had apparently asked her something.
"What?" – the young witch asked, a bit annoyed.
The other girl didn't seem to notice as she leaned closer and repeated in a hushed tone, "I was saying that you should share some of this modified Beautification Elixir with us."
"Beautification Elixir?" – the other witch repeated, confused – "What are you talking about?"
"Oh, come on!" – Gwen winked at her roommate – "Nobody believes you just matured over the summer. Even Greg McMahon thought it must have been some sort of potion or spell. I knew that interest in Potions and buttering up old Slughorn wasn't just for academic success."
Catherine ignored Gwendolyn's ramble and glared angrily at Greg, who was sitting with Frank several seats away. While she understood why he had said that, trying to redirect and manage the students' curiosity, she wished he had consulted her first before contributing to the swarm of rumours already circulating about her.
Once dinner was over, the new Prefects rounded up the first-years, and everyone headed to their Common Rooms. The fifth-year watched Lily and Remus take the lead, and a pang of guilt struck her as she realised she hadn't even congratulated Moony on getting his badge. She thought she should rectify that later when she snuck into the boys' dormitory, but a sudden thought entered her mind.
'Would James and Sirius want me to sleep next to them again when they made it so clear they were uncomfortable with my new looks?' – she thought bitterly, pausing at the bottom of the stairs – 'I guess it's better if I give them some breathing room and not impose myself on them. They've done more than enough for me, and if they're not comfortable anymore, that's fair.'
With that, Catherine headed toward the girls' dormitory with a heavy heart and a myriad of thoughts wreaking havoc in her mind. For the first time ever, she actually wished she was home, safely hidden away from the world.
"Mate, if you continue pacing around, you're going to wear a hole in the floor." – James said, his eyes following Sirius' erratic movements across the room.
"Do I look like I fucking care?" – the other boy snapped angrily, taking a deep breath – "Sorry, Prongs. I'm really on edge."
"I know, Padfoot." – James assured him, glancing at the door – "It's not like we aren't justified in asking for some answers. Flame may fuss all she wants but eventually, she'll have to face us and explain."
"Damn right!" – Sirius agreed vigorously – "Have you heard what that prat McMahon told Longbottom? That she probably used some kind of potion or spell to change her appearance. He said it was pathetic! And to think she thought he was a friend of hers! I'm so gonna tell her about this when she comes tonight!"
"Do you seriously think she will come after all you two said to her?" – Remus asked nonchalantly, earning surprised glances from his fellow Gryffindors – "I mean, knowing her, she'd rather face sleep deprivation than another session of your interrogation."
"Do you think Flame really used magic to change her appearance?" – Peter inquired, his expression more thoughtful than usual.
"Buggered if I know! She's certainly smart enough to figure out a way." – James shrugged irritated, turning towards Remus – "Wait a second, Moony, are you seriously telling me you're not annoyed that she constantly hides things from us, as if we're some strangers she can't trust? Why are you defending her when she lies to you too?"
"Maybe she tried to heal her weight loss and that was a side effect?" – Peter continued, earning a scoff from Sirius.
"It could be." – Remus nodded towards the short boy, then added, avoiding his friends' eyes – "To me, the most important thing is that she doesn't appear sick anymore. You know how worried we all were. And regarding her hiding stuff... well, I kind of understand how one can keep big secrets away from one's closest friends. In all honesty, if you hadn't found out about my condition, I'm not entirely sure I would have told you myself. I would have been terrified you would reject me, and the closer we had become, the more my fear would have grown."
"But that doesn't mean we would have rejected you!" – James insisted, glancing at Sirius who had finally stopped pacing.
"You're saying this now, but you can't know for sure how you would have reacted." - Remus remarked, raising his hand to stop the other boy's protests – "All I'm saying is that in her head, she's probably terrified to share whatever's happening to her. It's hard enough to suddenly find yourself in a body you can hardly recognise as your own. If you add the fear of losing your best friends, I doubt there are many people who would take the risk."
"So in your opinion, we should wait for her to confess what she's hiding on her deathbed?" – Sirius snapped, throwing himself on his bed, his helplessness and frustration boiling over – "I might need to become a ghost to achieve that."
"No." – Remus replied evenly, ignoring his friend's emotional reaction – "The point is that supporting her through this change, which clearly bothers her, comes first. And that's exactly what I'm going to do."
"Of course you will…" – Sirius sneered – "Now that she's drop-dead gorgeous, I bet you're regretting rejecting her last year."
"Mate!" – James groaned, weary of where the conversation was heading.
"Don't insult me, Padfoot!" – Remus raised his voice in a rare surge of anger – "My reaction and decision back then had nothing to do with how she looked! Catherine and I know exactly where we stand with each other, which is more than I can say for you and her."
Sirius murmured something incomprehensible and didn't respond. He quickly got ready for bed and slipped under the covers in complete silence. Indeed, Flame hadn't come, which made him even angrier, though now part of his anger was directed towards Moony, and another part towards himself.
The summer had been dreadful, to say the least. Between his relentless fear for Flame's health and safety and the need to stay perpetually on alert in a home filled with suspicious visitors, the young wizard felt as if he were living in a continuous nightmare. Returning to Hogwarts had been the only ray of light in the darkness of his life outside school. His joy, however, quickly turned into confusion, concern, and outright discomfort when he discovered that the stunning beauty everyone was talking about was the very witch he had been thinking about every day for the past two months.
It wasn't that he didn't appreciate her new body—feminine, seductive, effortlessly magnetic—or her face… he could spend hours just gazing at it. But this wasn't the girl he knew. Even her voice had changed, now rich, deep, and intoxicating, like dark chocolate melting on the tongue. He had been drawn to her before, but now his attraction had sharpened into something raw, something primal, and that unsettled him—not just because he felt it so intensely it almost hurt, but because he knew others did too. She was no longer just his to admire, and that realisation clawed at him. More than that, he feared that her extraordinary beauty, paired with her blood status, was a dangerous combination that would put her in more danger than ever before.
Additionally, the fact that this transformation was clearly the result of something she was hiding from him drove Sirius mad. He didn't care whether it was a spell, a potion, or even one of those strange ancient magic rituals she was always going on about—he just had to know. And it wasn't just curiosity gnawing at him. A quiet but persistent voice in his head kept whispering that Catherine's secret ran much deeper than an extreme case of vanity, that there was something far more significant lurking beneath the surface.
At the same time, he begrudgingly admitted that Remus was right. They had been too aggressive, their demands too forceful, driving Flame away instead of making her feel safe enough to confide in them. He and James had acted out of genuine care and concern, but their approach had backfired spectacularly. He cursed under his breath, the memory of Catherine's jade-green eyes—wide with hurt—twisting in his gut.
'At least her eyes stayed the same.' – the young wizard thought, turning restlessly in his bed – 'I wish the rest of her had too.'