Catherine McMahon had assumed that once classes started, everything would return to normal and people would gradually lose interest in her. She couldn't have been more wrong. By the end of the first week, she felt as though she had run a marathon. No matter where she went, there always seemed to be far too many students who coincidentally needed a book from the exact shelf she was browsing in the library, used the bathroom at the same time as her, or took oddly circuitous routes to their own classes that just happened to pass by wherever she was heading.
That was annoying enough on its own, but what was far worse were the constant attempts—both from male and, occasionally, female students—to chat her up, carry her bag, or simply invade her personal space. The relentless attention kept her on edge, forcing her to remain perpetually vigilant and ready to hex anyone who dared to touch her without permission.
Her relationship with the boys remained frosty despite Remus' best efforts to mend things. Spending most of her time with Lily or alone, she had caught James glancing at her several times during class or lunch, his eyes filled with concern—but she did nothing. The truth was, she wasn't so much angry with her friends as she was disappointed in herself for lacking the courage to confess the truth and ask for forgiveness for lying to them all these years. To make matters worse, her inability to sleep properly was wearing on her nerves. The only silver lining was that with all the extra hours she had, she was at least able to stay on top of the endless stream of assignments thrown at the fifth-years.
"This is a very important year for you." – Professor McGonagall had informed them when they groaned at the end of their first Transfiguration class. She had just assigned them a massive essay on Vanishing Spells and their correct usage, along with an entire book to read on the topic – "You should be well aware of how challenging the O.W.L. exams are and start preparing immediately."
While Catherine wasn't particularly concerned about the upcoming exams, she still had to complete her assignments, which took up a significant amount of time—even with the extra hours she had at night. The previous evening, she had taken Dreamless Sleep Potion, which meant she had to skip breakfast to finish everything she needed to prepare for the day ahead.
Standing alone outside the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, she regretted not asking Lily to bring her a few slices of toast from the Great Hall. Her daydreams of peach jam and a steaming cup of coffee—or at least a strong tea—were abruptly interrupted when someone stepped in front of her, far too close for comfort. Looking up, she found herself face to face with Augustus Zabini, grinning like an absolute fool, apparently expecting some sort of response.
"What do you want?" – Catherine asked, torn between awkwardness and confusion. Over his shoulder, she noticed a group of sixth-year Slytherins whispering among themselves, which instantly put her on high alert.
"Not a morning person, eh?" – the wizard smirked, his expression annoyingly smug and self-assured – "I was just saying, maybe you'd like to come with me next time we visit Hogsmeade. We could have a lot of fun together."
"Are you asking me on a date?" – the young witch blurted out, completely dumbfounded.
"Well, you can call it a date I suppose." – Zabini grinned, winking at her playfully – "The Three Broomsticks rents out private rooms on the second floor, did you know? Maybe we could have some Butterbeers there and get to know each other better—if you catch my drift. We're going to have a lot of fun, I promise. And who knows? Maybe this could lead to something more. My family's very open-minded, you see. They won't mind too much, even if you're a Mudblood." His smirk widened as if he had just paid her a compliment. "You're beautiful, and you have money. This could be beneficial for both of us."
Catherine stared at the Slytherin for what felt like an eternity. First, it took her a moment to even process what he was suggesting. She knew she should have been offended, but to her own reluctant frustration, she also felt a flicker of flattery. Augustus was older than her, and not bad-looking at all. He was about her height, broad-shouldered, with black hair, brown eyes, and a dimple on his left cheek that became prominent when he smiled. Known for his sharp tongue and quick wit, he had never really clashed with her before, and while his blunt offer was laughable, she saw no need to be unnecessarily rude in her rejection.
"Uhm, I appreciate your interest, but at this time, I'm not interested in the offer." – she replied, wincing internally at how much she sounded like a hiring manager rather than a girl being asked on a date.
Augustus' face froze, his features locking into an expression of pure disbelief. His classmates, who had been hanging onto every word, exchanged amused glances, some of them scoffing under their breath.
"You've got to be kidding me!" – Zabini hissed, colour creeping up his neck—whether from embarrassment or fury, she wasn't sure – "Do you even realise what I'm offering you? Do you honestly think you'll get a better chance with someone else? Get a reality check, Mudblood! I don't care if you used potions, magic, or sold your bloody soul to get this look, but plenty of guys do. Some might still have their fun with you, but no one would ever degrade themselves enough to date you."
His voice grew harsher, his smug confidence now twisted into bitter resentment.
"I was offering you the best deal you're ever going to get, and you reject me? Do you seriously believe Sirius Black is going to take you home to his mum?" - he let out a sharp, humourless laugh - "To the Black family estate? Please. They'd rather disown him than let a filthy little Mudblood slut like you set foot inside. I should have known better, of course. My friends warned me, but against my better judgment, I thought maybe, just maybe, you deserved a chance to truly be part of the Wizarding world. Guess I was wrong."
"How very noble of you." – Catherine chuckled darkly, her eyes flashing with barely contained fury. She couldn't believe she had actually felt guilty for rejecting Zabini's initial invitation. At the end of the day, no matter how she looked, she was still nothing but filth in their eyes—just because they thought she was Muggle-born. The only difference was that, being the hypocrites they were, their so-called principles didn't extend far enough to override their desire to own her.
The young witch hated to admit it, but Zabini's jab about Sirius had stung. While his family would have welcomed her with open arms if they knew the truth, Catherine wasn't sure she even wanted that kind of acceptance.
'Like that's even a concern.' – the fifth-year thought bitterly – 'It's not like he's going to ask me out, no matter how I look. If he wanted me, he would have done something by now.'
A mocking female voice snapped her back to reality.
"I told you—she's aiming straight for the top of the Pure-blood food chain! La crème de la crème of British wizarding society!"
Catherine turned, already dreading what she knew she'd see. Sure enough, Bellatrix Black had moved beside Zabini, an evil grin twisting her otherwise beautiful features.
"The little Mudblood thinks she deserves the very best. Otherwise, she could have gone after Potter—his family doesn't have standards. But no! It's the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black she's after! Or something of equal or greater value, am I right?" - Bellatrix sneered, her dark eyes gleaming with sadistic amusement - "That's why she's always hanging around Lord McMahon and even tried to sink her claws into Lucius! What a filthy little whore! Like you could ever compare to Cissy or any of us. Even with this new slutty look of yours, you have no class!"
Her lips curled in a smirk as she took a step closer, voice dripping with venom. "Did you actually think you could pick whichever wizard you wanted and he'd come running just because you suddenly have boobs?"
Catherine glared at Bellatrix, every fibre of her being screaming to unleash a torrent of fire at the smug bitch—or better yet, to test Snape's hair-removal curse on those luxurious black curls. Her hand slid beneath her robes, fingers wrapping around her wand.
And then, suddenly, a far better idea struck her.
It was wrong.
Very wrong.
But she didn't feel the slightest bit of guilt.
'I should at least test it—to see if it actually works on real people.' – Catherine thought, glancing at Bellatrix and the rest of the Slytherin girls, who watched her with expressions ranging from disdain to thinly veiled superiority. Then, turning her gaze straight to Zabini, she smiled sweetly.
Just as her grandmother had taught her, the young witch focused on a single sensation—the feeling of warmth, liquid and intoxicating, spreading from her fingertips to the very depths of her soul. A sharp jolt of excitement shot through her as she felt the urge to move, her blood boiling in her veins. So she did.
Slowly, seamlessly, Catherine rolled her hips. The movement was hardly visible beneath her school robes, but that didn't matter. She could feel the heat in her blood seeping through every pore, lacing the air with something primal. Arching her back, she tossed her hair, exposing the delicate curve of her neck. The Slytherin girls laughed mockingly, but the Gryffindor ignored them. She knew it was working. The air around her was thick, electric. And when she cast a glance at Zabini and the rest of the sixth-year boys, she smirked in triumph.
Every single wizard stood frozen, their gazes locked onto her, eyes unfocused, mouths slightly agape. She could almost hear the frantic pounding of their hearts.
Étincelle had warned her—Veela power affected young men the most. Evidently, that was true. Every single one of them, including two passing Ravenclaws who had stopped dead in their tracks, suddenly lunged forward, falling over themselves to pledge their devotion.
"My mother has an enchanted necklace that makes the woman who wears it the most beautiful in any room she enters!" – Zabini screeched, trying to shove Corvinus Bulstrode aside – "I can get it for you!"
"Get lost, you pathetic wuss!" – Corvinus growled, effortlessly sending Zabini sprawling to the ground – "You need a real man to protect you! No Pure-blood family owns more land than mine! We could live completely unbothered by anyone."
"Big deal, when you're drowning in debt!" - Fabian Rookwood sneered, licking his dry lips as his feverish gaze burned into Catherine – "I can buy you anything! My family has direct ties with Gringotts!"
With a roar, Corvinus launched himself at Fabian, knocking him straight to the floor. Valeria Malfoy and Lavinia Nott, who had been laughing moments earlier, shrieked as the brawl escalated. Bellatrix was screaming at her classmates, but they weren't listening. They weren't even aware of her anymore.
Catherine finally stilled, observing the scene before her. She was pleased—for once, she was the one humiliating the Slytherins, shoving their arrogance right back in their faces. She had rubbed it in Bella's nose, and she had successfully tested her newly awakened power.
But she had underestimated the effect.
The magic still hung thick in the air, the pheromones saturating the space, keeping the Slytherin boys in their frenzied state. She had lost control of the situation.
Oberon Burke managed to squeeze between his battling classmates, his face twisted in desperation and raw need. Before she could react, his arm wrapped tightly around her waist.
Panic surged through her as she frantically reached for her wand, her mind screaming at her for the reckless, stupid decision that, in hindsight, was far more dangerous than she had ever anticipated.
"Aguamenti!" – Carter Thorne's sharp voice echoed through the corridor, and a torrent of water crashed over the group, drenching them from head to toe.
"What the hell is going on here?" – the teacher demanded, striding forward and yanking Catherine free from Oberon's grasp. The Slytherin blinked rapidly, his face a mask of dazed confusion, as if just waking from a fever dream.
"She did some kind of dark magic, Professor!" – Valeria Malfoy shrieked, pointing an accusatory finger at the Gryffindor – "All the boys lost their minds—look at Fabian's face! It's all because of that slut!"
"Language, Miss Malfoy!" – Thorne cut in coldly. His sharp, sky-blue eyes flickered over the scene—Rookwood's bloody nose, the bruises already forming on his lip, and Catherine standing amidst the chaos, doing an admirable job of looking both insulted and utterly bewildered.
"Miss Plantier, let me check your wand."
Without hesitation, Catherine withdrew her wand, holding it out obediently. She met the professor's gaze with carefully crafted innocence, though she couldn't help but wonder if Thorne knew exactly what she had done. The choice of Aguamenti hadn't gone unnoticed—it was an effective way to dispel lingering Veela pheromones.
"Prior Incantato!" – he murmured, tapping the tip of her wand with his own. A ghostly silhouette of a vanishing pot—the last spell she had used in preparation for Transfiguration—appeared before dissolving into the air.
Thorne's frown deepened as he turned back to Valeria and the other Slytherins. "I don't see anything suspicious." - his voice was clipped, unimpressed - "Perhaps you should find better ways to spend your free periods than picking fights and wasting my time. Now clear the corridor—no more shenanigans!"
A chorus of grumbles followed as the sixth-years reluctantly dispersed, some still muttering in confusion, others glowering at Catherine.
Thorne, however, wasn't finished.
"As for you, Miss Plantier," - he said, turning to Catherine with a look of calculated scepticism - "I can't help but notice that you always seem to be at the centre of these… confrontations. Care to explain why you're even here? There are still twenty minutes before your class starts."
The girl met his gaze with icy politeness. "I had work to finish in the Library and wouldn't have had time for breakfast." - her tone was cool and measured - "Now, thanks to the Slytherins' ongoing delusion that they own the school, not only am I hungry, but I'm also soaked."
Thorne's lips twitched into a derisive smirk as he turned abruptly, his tone laced with mockery.
"Take some advice, girl," - he drawled - "Learn not to push your luck. Do you honestly think I'm stupid enough to believe you had nothing to do with this chaos? The only reason I didn't expose you right then and there is because I have no interest in dealing with yet another Gryffindor-Slytherin war. I have far better ways to spend my time." His smirk sharpened. "However, you're much too arrogant for your own good. Twenty points from Gryffindor."
The young witch stared at her teacher, carefully weighing her next move. Had he figured it out? Did he know the real reason behind her transformation? Had he guessed she had used Veela pheromones to drive the sixth-year boys into a frenzy? She had noticed his eyes on her more than once during the Welcoming Feast. Granted, other teachers had also struggled to hide their curiosity—Professor Slughorn had even gone so far as to personally greet her after dinner—but Thorne had been different. Each time his gaze flickered to the Gryffindor table, his expression had darkened, as if he were genuinely unhappy with what he saw.
Why would he care? Catherine couldn't think of a single reason her changed appearance should personally displease him, but she could think of plenty of reasons why Thorne might consider it significant enough to report. Would he contact Borealis or another major House? Would they even care about some Muggle-born witch's surprising transformation? Probably not. But what if he told them he suspected she was hiding her Veela blood? That was dangerous. Too dangerous. And she was not about to risk exposure just because her father refused to take Thorne's presence as a real threat.
'Grandmother told me accomplished Veelas can use simple movements to charm…' – Catherine thought, her eyes quickly darting up and down the corridor which was currently empty – 'If I concentrate, I should be able to do it… just enough to make him confess. Or at the very least, push him into doing something I can use to blackmail him. I don't have much time before everybody arrives… Now or never!'
A flicker of heat ignited in her veins once again as she directed it carefully, focusing on her right arm. She stretched it out toward Thorne with deliberate grace, turning her palm upward, fully aware that the Veela pheromones would be strongest at her wrist, where her pulse hammered beneath her skin.
For a moment, the young witch thought she had succeeded. Thorne's handsome face went blank. Then, pain. The professor's fingers clamped around her wrist like an iron vice, making her yelp in shock. Her concentration shattered instantly. She froze. In all her years at Hogwarts, she had never seen him look this furious. That moment last year, when he had caught her and Greg using elemental magic against each other seemed like a pleasant conversation in comparison. For the first time since stepping into the school, the girl felt real, unfiltered fear. It felt like standing at the heart of a thunderstorm with no protection and no shelter.
Thorne's other hand seized her chin, forcing her to look up at him. His grip wasn't brutal, but it was unyielding. His normally smooth, arrogant voice was gone, replaced by something rough, sharp-edged, and deadly.
"Don't you dare try that on me again!" - he growled - "Do you understand me?"
The Gryffindor could only stare, wide-eyed, breath caught in her throat.
"I'd rather gouge my own eyes out than look at you that way!" - his grip tightened for the briefest moment, forcing the words to sink in - "Don't push me, Catherine. You'll regret it. Severely. I don't care what you look like. I will never see you as an object of desire. Ever! Not even if you were the last woman in this bloody world!"
His voice was now pure steel, unyielding and brutal. "Whatever game you think you're playing, I'm not your pawn. Stop it. Now! Am I clear?"
Catherine barely managed a nod, her jade-green eyes shimmering with tears—not from pain, but from sheer humiliation. She had miscalculated, and now she was being put in her place like a reckless child.
Thorne let her go, his movements showing he was once again completely in control. Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode toward his classroom door.
Just before disappearing inside, he glanced back over his shoulder, voice stripped of all emotion.
"Don't make a habit of skipping meals. And change out of those wet clothes."
The remainder of the week unfolded in a haze for Catherine. After her confrontation with Professor Thorne, she was left in shock, standing motionless until her classmates arrived. She ignored their inquiries about her drenched appearance, and Professor Thorne neither acknowledged her nor made eye contact during their double Defence Against the Dark Arts class.
Reflecting on her actions, the young witch felt profound shame. She regretted allowing Bellatrix to provoke her into misusing her Veela powers—a lapse that clouded her judgment. While manipulating the Slytherin boys was reprehensible, attempting to influence Thorne was absolutely despicable. If she had succeeded, she could have ruined his life—a line she was unwilling to cross. Despite his sarcastic remarks, unfair treatment, unwarranted detentions, and blatant disregard for her privacy, he had still imparted valuable lessons, strengthening her resolve to eventually surpass him. She also couldn't forget the moments when he had shown genuine concern. The vivid memory of him sitting on the floor, holding her like a child while she wept over her severed hair, was precisely why she felt utterly disgusted with herself for trying to force him into behaviour he found repulsive.
She discovered a newfound sense of respect for her DADA teacher, despite her lingering suspicions about his ties to the aristocrats. Yet, a small part of her couldn't help but wonder—why did he find the mere thought of her as a woman so revolting?
Granted, it was highly inappropriate for a teacher to get involved with a student. But Thorne had constantly been the subject of admiration, especially from the sixth and seventh-years. There were plenty of rumours about young women confessing their love to him. He had always rejected them, but never cruelly—just calmly reinforcing the boundaries between students and teachers. Or at least, that's what the whispers in the corridors claimed.
So what made her different? Did he just genuinely dislike her?
'Yet he told me not to skip meals…' - she mused, absentmindedly chewing the tip of her quill during Friday's Transfiguration class – 'He even called me Catherine… He never uses my given name. How odd…'
"Miss Plantier," – Professor McGonagall's sharp voice jolted her back to reality – "When you're finished daydreaming, perhaps you'd care to answer my question on the first basic principle of Transfiguration?"
"I'm sorry, Professor," – Catherine murmured, lowering her head – "I didn't hear the question."
"You'll struggle with your O.W.L. exams if you can't learn to focus." – the Head of Gryffindor chastised, her tone clipped – "Miss Evans, if you please."
As the fifth-years made their way to the Great Hall for lunch, Remus fell into step beside Catherine.
"Are you alright?" - he asked, studying her carefully.
"Yeah, just a bit tired." – she replied absentmindedly.
James, who had overheard, scoffed. "Tired or not, you better try your hardest tomorrow. A lot of people are trying out for the Quidditch team, and your position isn't guaranteed. If you're not at a hundred percent, you could easily lose your spot."
The young witch halted mid-step, turning to glare at him. "Well, so be it!" - she snapped before spinning on her heel and storming off in the opposite direction.
"Wait!" – James called after her, his face immediately twisting with regret – "That's not what I meant! I just wanted you to—ow!"
He winced as Sirius smacked him hard on the arm.
"What the hell is wrong with you, Prongs?!" - Sirius hissed, throwing a quick glance at the curious onlookers. Lowering his voice, he muttered - "You almost told the entire corridor that she sleeps in our room. If that gets out, we're screwed."
James groaned, rubbing his arm. "Sorry, Padfoot. I think my persuasion technique could use some work." - he exhaled sharply, shaking his head - "Looks like we'll have to leave it to Moony. He's the only one she actually talks to."
Sirius let out an annoyed growl. "Then be more insistent, for Merlin's sake! This can't go on forever! Even Catherine Plantier's stubbornness has its limits!"
Contrary to Sirius' prediction, Catherine's stubbornness hadn't run out just yet. She didn't even give Remus a chance to talk to her—she stuck to Lily Evans like glue and barely left her side for the rest of the day.
"Don't you think it's time to fix things with the boys?" – Lily asked as they walked across the school grounds the next day, making their way toward the Quidditch Pitch.
"Easier said than done." – the other witch sighed – "I still haven't decided what to do… I mean, whether I should tell them who I really am and everything that comes with it. Plus, they're definitely uneasy around me. I can't exactly blame them. To their eyes, I look like a complete stranger."
Lily shrugged. "You're overthinking it." - then, flashing a sly smile, she added - "They're not that complicated. Sure, they were surprised and probably worried about you, but you need to start sleeping normal hours again. If you're not ready to tell them the truth, just let things settle and act like nothing happened. I doubt they'd object. Take care of yourself first."
"I don't know, Lils," - Catherine muttered, not entirely convinced - "Everything got way too complicated all of a sudden. I wish I'd never gone through this damn change."
"It's not like you had any control over it." – the other Gryffindor pointed out matter-of-factly – "People change. They'll learn to live with it. And so will you."
"I do hope so." – Catherine replied grimly, adjusting the broom in her grip – "My body still feels weird."
Lily shot her a concerned glance. "Are you sure you can fly today?"
"I don't have much of a choice." – the black-haired girl said – "I've tried a couple of times, but I'm not sure I'm good enough to pass tryouts."
James hadn't been exaggerating about the number of applicants—there was already a sizable crowd gathered near the pitch. But as it turned out, most of them were just there to watch.
"What's so interesting about Quidditch tryouts?" – Catherine muttered, frowning as she mounted her broom.
James shot her a playful wink. "They say we're the hottest team in school." With that, he kicked off the ground and shot into the clear blue sky.
'Bloody ridiculous!' – the girl thought, shaking her head as she followed him. But as the fresh air rushed past her, she felt some of her insecurities begin to melt away.
The tryouts went better than expected. It wasn't a huge surprise that all the returning players secured their spots on the team again. The only annoying part was the constant, over-the-top cheering from the stands every time James, Sirius, or Greg pulled off a relatively difficult move. Even worse—and far more embarrassing—was the realisation that Catherine had somehow gained her own group of male supporters who had come specifically to cheer for her.
That did nothing to help her already shaky nerves. In fact, she had to admit that reclaiming her position as Chaser might have been aided by some suspiciously convenient mistakes from Greg. Each time she aimed for a goal, he seemed to fumble just enough to allow her to score, boosting her performance compared to the other candidates. Perhaps that was why her fellow Chaser, Scarlett Porter, kept shooting her glances that felt a lot like disapproval. It was an unsettling thought—up until now, they had always had a friendly relationship.
Once everyone was back on the ground, Catherine decided to find Scarlett and clear up any misunderstanding. That, however, proved to be easier said than done. The spectators had swarmed the field, and getting past her housemates, all eager to talk to her, was a challenge in itself.
Weaving through a cluster of giggling girls who were soaking up James' every word, Catherine rolled her eyes as he dramatically declared that he wished he had someone to dedicate the first Snitch of the season to. His attempt at impressing Lily was painfully obvious, but if she even heard him, she showed zero interest—far too engrossed in her conversation with Dominic Woods.
The rest of the Gryffindor girls, however, seemed to take his words as an open invitation. The young witch couldn't exactly blame them. Over the summer, James had turned into a rather handsome young man—though still not quite as striking as his best friend. The difference was that while Sirius had a confident, almost intimidating presence that made some girls hesitate, fearing he was out of their league, James had a boyish charm that made him far more approachable.
Eventually, the crowd began to disperse, and Catherine finally spotted Scarlett. She waved briefly to Lily, signalling her not to wait, before making her way over.
"Hi, Scarlett." – she greeted with a friendly smile – "Can we talk for a bit?"
"Uhm, I guess." – the other girl replied, shifting uncomfortably.
The two of them climbed to the top of the Quidditch stands, watching as the last of their housemates made their way toward the castle.
"So, what did you want to talk about?" – Scarlett asked, straight to the point as usual.
Catherine took a deep breath. She wasn't entirely sure how to word it, so she decided to be honest about her suspicion.
"Do you have any problem with me?"
"What?" – the other witch looked startled – "No! Why would I have a problem with you?"
"Well, I noticed you've been looking at me a lot." – the fifth-year explained, feeling heat rise to her face – "Maybe I'm just being paranoid, but people have been acting strange around me since the start of the year—and not always in a good way."
"Oh!" – Scarlett let out a small laugh, smiling shyly – "It's probably because you look so beautiful now… I mean, you were cute before, but now…" She trailed off before shaking her head. "But that's not why I kept looking at you."
Her expression darkened, all traces of amusement gone. "The truth is, I'm really worried about you—and all of our Muggle-born classmates. After I saw how much you changed over the summer, I couldn't stop thinking about what would happen if a Death Eater saw you…"
She sighed, her voice tense. "Last month, my cousin disappeared. She was half-blood. The Aurors believe she was abducted, and they all but told us You-Know-Who was behind it. Zara was beautiful, although not quite at your level." - Scarlett swallowed hard - "If that happened to her, imagine how dangerous it is for you. You have to be careful, Flame! Don't go anywhere alone—especially Hogsmeade. The fewer people who see you, the better."
Catherine studied Scarlett's anxious face, searching for the right words. The last thing she wanted was to dismiss her concerns—especially since they weren't entirely unfounded.
"Thank you for worrying about me," - she said gently - "I'm so sorry about what happened to your cousin, and I completely understand why you think it'd be safer for me to just hide. But no matter how dangerous things get, I refuse to live in fear. That's not how I want to spend my life. Being free is a choice I've made, and no Death Eater, dark wizard, or so-called 'lord' is going to change that."
The other witch nodded, still visibly disturbed but respecting her friend's decision.
As they left the Quidditch Pitch, Catherine took a detour, heading toward the Black Lake. She needed time alone to think. After her conversation with Scarlett and witnessing the attack in London, she was beginning to wonder if her father had been downplaying the true weight of what was happening in the wizarding world.
The aristocrats' total disregard for Lord Voldemort was unsettling. While the girl's main concern remained protecting herself from anyone associated with the other six major Houses, she couldn't shake the growing threat creeping toward all Muggle-born witches and wizards. Her blood status wouldn't protect her if people didn't know who she truly was. And, if the past two weeks had taught her anything, her appearance alone could put her in very dangerous situations if she wasn't careful.
Despite the confidence she had shown in front of Scarlett, as she made her way back toward the castle, her hand remained firmly wrapped around her wand, her eyes scanning her surroundings for any sign of movement.
"Do you think she'd be annoyed if I went on a date with one of the girls I talked to today?" – James asked, running a hand through his already messy hair – "Cassandra Morgan is gorgeous, and she told me I made her interested in Quidditch! If that's not flirting, I don't know what is."
"I don't know, mate." – Sirius replied, sounding unconvinced – "If you're trying to make her jealous, she'd have to be interested in the first place… and honestly, she didn't seem to be."
"Maybe she's just playing it cool." – the other wizard suggested, his face flushing slightly – "I caught her glancing at me a few times today while I was chatting with the other ladies."
"Probably because you were yelling so loud they could hear you in Gryffindor Tower." – Sirius barked a laugh – "Face it, my friend, if she plays it any cooler, she'd turn into a block of ice."
"I disagree." – James insisted – "As long as I can still piss her off enough to make her shout at me, there's hope. It means she's not indifferent."
Sirius chuckled as they entered the castle and headed toward the Great Staircase. "How did you come to this conclusion? By that logic, Catherine and I should have been married by now."
"Careful, Padfoot," – the other boy sneered, a bit irked by his friend's condescending tone – "No matter how entertaining your fights are, you don't come close to how much Snape manages to piss her off."
Sirius' expression darkened instantly. "Don't ever say that," - he snapped, his grey eyes flashing with anger - "If he so much as lays a finger on her, I'll kill him with my bare hands—wands be damned."
James blinked, caught off guard by the sudden outburst. "Merlin, mate! It was just a joke. Snivellus hates Flame so much, he wouldn't touch her with a ten-foot pole. And if he did, you wouldn't even get the chance—she'd have buried him before you could lift a finger."
Sirius let out a deep sigh, rubbing the back of his neck as they climbed the stairs. "Yeah… sorry. It's just hard to imagine her with anyone else. But someone like him? That thought makes my blood boil." - he paused, then added, his tone shifting - "Though you're right—he's no threat whatsoever. But speaking of odd behaviour, did you notice how many easy saves McMahon botched today whenever Catherine was taking a shot? What's that about?"
"Yeah, it was a bit weird." – James agreed as they took a shortcut through a passage behind the painting of a sleeping dragon – "But she wasn't flying all that well today, and he probably wanted to make sure she got her spot back on the team. I'd have done the same in his place."
"Still seems suspicious to me." – the other wizard muttered – "Remember the rumours that went around after he broke up with Evans last year? I didn't pay much attention to them at the time, but you can't deny he's always been way too involved in Catherine's business. Now, after outright saying she used magic to change her looks, he suddenly wants to help her? That's pretty inconsistent if you ask me. Wouldn't be surprised if he's trying to woo her now that she meets his standards."
"At least that would mean he gave up on Lily." – James shrugged, earning an angry glare from his friend – "What? I keep telling you, Padfoot, it's pointless to stew over who Flame might go out with when you haven't even asked her yourself. You do realise McMahon is the least of your problems? There are plenty of other blokes just waiting for their chance. Come on, be brave."
"It's not about bravery, Prongs." – Sirius sighed again – "If I ask her now, she'll think it's just because of her looks. You know that's not true, right?"
"Of course I do." – the other boy nodded – "And you have a point. But if you keep waiting for the perfect moment, it might never come. Before you know it, she'll end up with some complete loser."
Sirius let out a frustrated growl, but then his expression suddenly shifted. A slow, sly smirk spread across his face.
"Speaking of complete losers…" - he said, nodding toward an open classroom as they passed.
James followed his gaze—and there, sitting inside, speaking in hushed voices, were Lily Evans and Severus Snape.
He yanked Sirius behind the doorframe, straining to catch whatever intimate conversation was unfolding inside. Lily's expression was deeply concerned, almost sorrowful. Next to her, Snape sat stiffly, staring at the floor, his face half-hidden behind the greasy curtain of black hair that fell over it.
"What are they talking about?" – Sirius whispered, inching closer to the door.
"I can't hear a damn thing!" – James hissed back, irritation flaring in his voice – "Look how close she is to him! Bloody hell!"
His outburst came right as Lily suddenly pulled Snape into a long hug, her hand gently caressing his shoulder.
"Shh!" – Sirius elbowed his friend sharply – "If she catches you lurking here, you'll look pathetic." He watched the scene with narrowed eyes. "That seems like a pity hug to me. He's probably spinning some sob story to squeeze out a bit of sympathy—what else can he do? Come on, let's deal with this, but not in front of her."
About an hour later, James and Sirius strolled into the Gryffindor common room in noticeably high spirits, their earlier frustration seemingly forgotten. They found the rest of their friends gathered on the floor in front of the fireplace. Catherine sat on a few cushions, a roll of parchment in one hand, quill in the other. Her face grew darker with every line she read, furrowing her brow as she crossed things out with increasing irritation.
"There's hardly a point in writing an essay if you're just copying straight from the book." - she sighed, shooting a pointed look at Peter. The boy shrank under her disapproving gaze - "And the worst part? You copied the wrong paragraphs. Do you even know what 'decoction' means?"
"Isn't it when you chop someone's head off?" – the boy asked, his hopeful look vanishing instantly as Catherine's expression turned to pure exasperation.
Remus barely managed to smother his laughter behind a mighty coughing fit.
"How can you be so dumb, Peter?" - Sirius groaned as he and James dropped into their usual spots. "I told you to stop pestering her with your homework."
Before Peter could protest, Sirius snatched the parchment from Catherine's hands and chucked it back at him, leaving their friend looking one wrong word away from bursting into tears.
"It's fine. I don't mind helping him." – Catherine shrugged, extending her hand forward – "Accio!"
The Potions homework soared back into her open palm.
"Show-off." – James grumbled, flopping down next to Remus with a sulky expression.
"Not my fault you still can't figure out wandless magic." – the girl smirked, completely unbothered by his tone – "Maybe if you spent less time parading in front of your fan club and more time practicing, things would be different."
"I do not have a fan club!" – James shot back, his face turning slightly red – "And that's a bit hypocritical coming from you. Half the people in the stands today were cheering for you."
"More like ogling her." – Sirius muttered under his breath.
Catherine's eyes flicked to him in surprise. "What?"
"I even saw a few Slytherins there." - he added, leaning back casually - "Can't believe they actually showed up to root for a Gryffindor."
James frowned. "Speaking of which, I heard the strangest story about Zabini asking you out and you using dark magic on the Slytherin boys to make them lose their minds. Not that I believe it, but… where is this coming from?"
Catherine let out a sigh, avoiding their gazes. "Well… Zabini did ask me on a date."
A tense silence settled over the group.
"And?" - Sirius prompted, his voice sharp.
"And when I turned him down, things got a bit heated. Apparently, claiming I hexed half the Slytherins into insanity made for a better story than admitting he got rejected by a Mudblood."
The moment the word left her lips, Sirius jumped to his feet.
"Stop calling yourself that!" - he yelled, his voice echoing across the Common Room.
Every head turned toward them. The boy took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair before continuing in a calmer, but no less intense tone. "It's not your fault some entitled pricks think they can act like animals and then throw a tantrum when they don't get what they want."
"Exactly!" - James chimed in, scowling - "I don't know what's gotten into those snakes lately. First Lily, now you!
"What about Lily?" – Catherine asked, intrigued.
Sirius chuckled. "Same as always—our greasy friend, Snivellus. Honestly, it's becoming an epidemic. Next thing you know, my brother will start dating Gwyneth or Merlin knows who."
"Then we'll shove him in the same cupboard where we locked Snivelly!" – James snorted.
"Wait a second," - Catherine cut in, her green eyes darting between the two wizards - "What do you mean by that? Please don't tell me you actually locked Snape somewhere."
"Well, I won't tell you if you insist." - James grinned - "You're not worried about him, are you, Flame?"
Catherine let out an exasperated sigh. "I'm not worried about him, but I do want to avoid another pointless fight." - she crossed her arms - "You can't just go around bullying people, James! And then you wonder why Lily won't go out with you. Of course she won't! Even less so when Snape keeps running to her, whining about how you treated him yet again."
"You don't have to be so dramatic about it." - Sirius shrugged, looking completely unbothered - "It's not a big deal. What does it matter if he sits in a broom cupboard for a couple of hours? Filch will find him eventually. Maybe next time, he'll think twice before taking advantage of Lily's pity."
"What pity?" - Catherine demanded, then immediately shook her head, hissing in frustration - "You know what? Never mind that." She turned sharply to Remus. "Are you planning to do something about this?"
Remus blinked, caught off guard. "Me?"- he hesitated, his face turning red - "Oh. Yeah. I guess I should… you know… since I'm a prefect…"
Clearly wishing he was anywhere else, he started toward the portrait hole at an agonisingly slow pace.
"Fourth floor, next to the statue of Levioso," - James called after him, then turned back to Catherine, scowling - "There! Happy now? You saved the greasy git. Congrats!"
Catherine's eyes flashed dangerously as she sprang to her feet. "Don't you dare get sassy with me, James Potter!" - she snapped - "You might not care about the kind of trouble this could get you into, but whatever detention you end up with will be nothing compared to what I'll do to you if Snape's upcoming payback leaves me bald again!"
Sirius, watching her storm off toward the girls' dormitory, muttered grimly, "Well, at least that would stop the Slytherins from chasing after her."
James sighed, his good mood completely gone. "I wouldn't count on that, mate… Clearly, we need a better strategy with the girls."
"I can give you some pointers if you want." - Peter offered with a reassuring smile.
Both Sirius and James turned to stare at him, utterly speechless.
Catherine's fears that Snape would retaliate against her turned out to be unfounded. According to Remus, after he freed the Slytherin, Snape had simply bolted back to the Dungeons without so much as a word of thanks.
While Moony seemed perfectly content with that outcome, Catherine found it deeply unsettling. This wasn't normal behaviour for Snape—his silence, his lack of reaction. The unpredictability of it all put her on edge.
She finally came face-to-face with him on Monday afternoon in Ancient Runes. When she arrived, he was already seated at their shared desk, his head buried in his textbook. He didn't even glance at her as she took her seat next to him.
Catherine studied him for a moment, but he remained motionless, eyes fixed on the page in front of him. Deciding he wasn't about to hex her on the spot, she cautiously took out her stuff, figuring she could at least get comfortable before class started.
Unfortunately, the fragile peace was shattered when Desmond Cornfoot—a big-boned Ravenclaw whom Catherine had never spoken to, despite sharing a class for over two years—approached her and cleared his throat with an air of utmost importance.
She lifted her gaze and was met with a wide, confident smile—and a wink.
"Hey, Catherine," – Desmond greeted her as if they were old friends – "You know, Lunara's feeling sick today, so she won't be coming to class. If you want, you could move and sit with me instead."
He flashed another self-assured grin. "I know you must hate… your current seating arrangement."
Catherine hesitated. She'd heard plenty about Desmond —mostly about how he considered himself an intellectual of the highest calibre, too good to associate with anyone he deemed unworthy. That alone was off-putting.
On the other hand, it wasn't exactly a secret that she and Snape had been at each other's throats for years. Their mutual loathing was practically legendary. And yet… Once she got over her initial horror of being assigned to sit next to him in Ancient Runes, the experience hadn't been that unpleasant. Not that she could say that out loud. Especially not with Snape sitting right there. Still, she had to do something—or pretend she had suddenly lost the ability to hear.
"I'm fine with my current seat, but thanks for asking." – she said with a small, polite smile, hoping to end this quickly – "It would be a hassle to move all my stuff, and there's no point since Lunara will be back soon anyway."
Desmond's meaty face turned a deep shade of red, as if the idea of being rejected had never once occurred to him.
"Really?" – he scoffed, his round brown eyes widening in exaggerated disbelief – "You'd actually rather sit next to him than me? No wonder you and Black never got together! Guess you're just into greasy, stinking losers who don't even shower."
Catherine's face burned hot, not so much from embarrassment, but from sheer rage. She could feel every pair of eyes drilling into her. Except for Snape's. That, more than anything, surprised her. He was never one to stay silent when being insulted. But there he was, still buried in his book, seemingly indifferent to the drama unfolding right next to him.
'What the hell is wrong with him?' – Catherine thought, irritated.
Still, she wouldn't let Desmond walk away thinking he'd humiliated her. Instead, she turned to him with a dazzling, saccharine smile.
"You know, Desmond," - she chirped cheerfully - "He still smells a lot better compared to the delightful blend of sweat and onions wafting off you."
The Ravenclaw's face twisted in fury. "How dare you, you filthy Mu…"
He never got to finish.
A sudden gush of blood erupted from his nose, splattering the desk and barely missing the Gryffindor. The sharp metallic scent hit her like a brick, sending a violent shudder through her body and evoking crisp visions from her last nightmare. Her breath hitched. Her stomach twisted. For a brief, dizzying second, she thought she was going to pass out.
Desmond, meanwhile, was already sprinting out of the classroom, likely headed for the Hospital Wing—nearly knocking over Professor Oakenscript on his way out.
Catherine forced her gaze downward, trying to steady her racing pulse, her fingers trembling against the desk. Cold sweat prickled at her skin. And then, out of the corner of her eye, she caught the faintest movement. Slowly, Snape slipped his wand back into his pocket.
"You're really getting the hang of nonverbal spells." – the young witch mumbled with a slight smirk.
The wizard's black eyes locked onto hers, his face utterly devoid of emotion. For the first time, she noticed the deep purple circles beneath his eyes. So, he wasn't sleeping either.
"Don't jump to conclusions." – he hissed, every word dripping with venom – "I did it because he was irritating. And you had a point about the onions."
His gaze flickered over her with something that might have been disgust—or something worse.
"That being said, I'd really appreciate it if you kept your pathetic love life out of the spaces we're forced to share." - his voice was cold, cutting - "And just for the record—I don't need you to defend me. You're worse than him."
The Slytherin's voice lowered to a whisper.
"They mock me because you and your friends started this whole thing. It was just another hilarious joke to you, wasn't it? You're all going to regret it eventually. Rest assured, whatever magic you used to make yourself less hideous won't work on me. You're the same arrogant, insufferable, entitled banshee you've always been. And you always will be."
Catherine blinked, genuinely taken aback by Snape's spiteful outburst. Had her offhand remark about him not smelling that bad really provoked that much venom?
'At least he managed to take my mind off how sick I felt.' – she thought.
Shaking off the encounter, the girl turned her attention to the lesson, trying to focus on the intricate sentence structure of Selenithra - the language of ancient moonlight they had just started studying.
By the time class ended, Catherine was in an unexpectedly good mood. Selenithra was surprisingly easier for her to grasp compared to Lumerith, and as an added bonus, Snape was struggling with the soft vowels, his pronunciation noticeably off.
Perhaps because of this, he looked even more irritable than usual as he gathered his books and notes in a hurry, scowling like a storm cloud.
He rushed past her and disappeared without a word. It was then that Catherine noticed something on his desk. The boy had forgotten his quill.
She picked it up, turning it over between her fingers. For a moment, she considered returning it herself—but quickly dismissed the idea. The last thing she needed was another hateful monologue about how much he despised her. She'd just give it to Lily instead.
Then something caught her attention. This wasn't the same shabby, half-broken quill he had been using last year. Quite the opposite. It was high quality. Expensive. Even more luxurious than the one she had offered him once, in a naïve attempt to be nice.
'Where the hell did he get the money for this?' – she wondered, slipping it into her bag as she headed for dinner.
Her thoughts drifted to Desmond Cornfoot. Had Madame Pomfrey managed to stop his nose from gushing blood? Not that she cared about the arrogant Ravenclaw. But she didn't particularly want Snape to get in trouble for it either. After all, regardless of his reasoning, he had unintentionally done her a favour, saving her the trouble of hexing the prick herself. And in all honesty—despite the Slytherin's subsequent string of insults—the young witch felt oddly relieved. At least Snape hadn't changed how he felt about her just because of her looks.
'Having an honest enemy is better than having a fake friend.' – the girl mused, noting how many more people greeted her on the way to the Great Hall.
Catherine had learned a great deal about fake friends in the first few weeks of school. Looking back, she realised how naïve she had been to think she could easily see through people's intentions. It turned out that wasn't so simple when one was suddenly the centre of attention—especially when it had never happened before.
Out of nowhere, students from all four Houses—both older and younger—seemed eager to be around her. Invitations to social gatherings became routine, and people sought her opinion on everything from clothing choices to career paths. The last part was especially concerning, given that many of these people had hardly spoken to her before.
The excessive politeness and praise came with bright smiles, giddy laughter, and an almost ridiculous level of gratitude for trivial things—like passing the dragon manure in Herbology. But the worst part? The young witch had caught more than a few of those smiles vanishing the moment they thought she wasn't looking. Sometimes, they were replaced by calculating glances, mocking smirks, or the kind of lustful stares that made her skin crawl.
The lack of sleep, combined with her mounting unease, did nothing for her temper. More and more, she found herself on the verge of snapping over small things—like one of Peter's dim-witted questions or James' constant habit of ruffling his hair. Rather than risk an outburst, she chose to avoid them entirely. The girl could see their frustration growing, but she had no idea how to fix things. Should she tell them the truth? The longer she hesitated, the harder it became.
The only person she felt she could truly confide in was Lily—but between her Prefect duties and her firm stance that Catherine should just come clean to the boys, she wasn't exactly offering alternative solutions.
So when the fifth-year received a short note from Hagrid during breakfast on Saturday, she welcomed the distraction with open arms. The Gryffindor had always enjoyed spending time with the gentle giant, despite his uncanny ability to turn even the simplest recipe into a culinary disaster. Still, she hadn't given up on him just yet.
Arriving at the Keeper of the Keys' hut, she carried a basket full of ingredients and a determined plan: making the perfect batch of ginger nuts to go with their tea.
They worked in companionable silence, mixing ingredients and shaping the dough. The warm, comforting scent of ginger and spices filled the hut as the first batch of biscuits baked in the oven. Hagrid reached for two enormous pink mugs covered in white polka dots, filled them to the brim with steaming hot tea, and settled across from Catherine, his bushy beard twitching with a kind smile.
"So, how's school goin'?" – he asked, taking a hearty sip – "Heard yeh made the Quidditch team again. Lookin' ter win the Cup for a second year, eh?"
"I'll try my best," – Catherine replied, though she didn't sound very confident – "But as you probably noticed my body changed a lot and I don't fly as well as I used to."
Hagrid let out a booming laugh. "Yeah, yeh certainly shot up over the summer!"
"To say the least." – the girl sighed, staring into her tea.
"Ah, yeh'll get used ter it." - Hagrid waved a massive hand dismissively - "Just takes a bit o' adjustin'. I remember when I had my first big growth spurt—tripped over me own feet more times than I could count! Me old man used ter joke that the shoemakers in Diagon Alley treated him like their best customer, what with how often he had to buy me new boots."
"It was a bit more rapid for me." – the witch admitted, wondering what Hagrid had looked like as a young boy – "But I also had to change my whole wardrobe. As a matter of fact, I still have to buy a lot of items I'm currently missing."
The Keeper of the Keys chuckled. "Aye, well, at least yeh can buy clothes in a normal shop. First time I outgrew me shoes, they told me they didn't have any in me size—I had ter special order 'em! Had to enchant 'em too, so they'd last longer." - he shook his head, grinning - "Spent a whole week walkin' 'round barefoot 'cos me old boots wouldn't fit no more. Everyone at school started callin' me Bigfoot."
"Your classmates made fun of you?" – Catherine asked, her smile fading. She knew all too well what it felt like to be singled out.
Hagrid sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Ah, kids can be cruel, they can. I was near two meters tall by me first year—easy target, yeh know? But I reckon it don't matter much now."
"That doesn't mean they had to bully you." – the girl muttered, gripping her mug a little tighter.
The giant gave her a knowing look. "Sounds like yeh got some trouble of yer own."
Catherine hesitated, then sighed. "They're not laughing at me, but… almost everyone's acting differently. I don't know who's genuine and who's just pretending. It's like I can't trust anyone anymore."
"Yeh can always trust me." – Hagrid smiled reassuringly – "And Dumbledore, o' course! Yeh can always trust Dumbledore! And yer friends too! Yeh lot are tighter than a knotted rope—I can't believe they'd treat yeh any different."
"Thanks, Hagrid. I do appreciate it." – Catherine said, choosing her words carefully – "As for the boys… I don't think they've changed exactly, but they didn't react well. I mean, I get that they were shocked—and worried, especially with all the Death Eater kidnappings lately—but I just wish they hadn't made such a big deal out of it." She sighed. "And Dumbledore hasn't said a word to me since term started. I was waiting for him to tell me if we'd continue our lessons, but I suppose he has more important things to deal with."
Hagrid nodded knowingly, puffing out his chest slightly, evidently proud of his familiarity with the Headmaster's agenda. "Yeah, he ain't in the castle much these days. He's busy makin' plans—doin' what he can to protect decent folk from You-Know-Who." He took a sip of tea, then added thoughtfully, "But as for yer friends… it's only natural they were a bit flummoxed, ain't it? Who wouldn't be? Can yeh really blame 'em for bein' surprised?"
Catherine bit her lip, unable to deny the truth in his words.
"The real question is," - Hagrid continued - "are they still there when yeh need 'em?"
"I don't know." – the young witch's voice wavered, and she swallowed hard, trying to fight the tightness in her throat. All the hurt and doubt she had been suppressing felt dangerously close to boiling over - "I think I never really gave them the chance to be there for me. I just assumed it was better to keep my distance."
The giant shook his head. "Now that's not fair, is it?" - his black eyes twinkled kindly beneath his thick brows - "Yeh gotta trust 'em a bit more. They're good lads—always helpin' me when they're about. Don't they deserve a fair shot?"
Catherine sighed deeply. "You're right, Hagrid."
The Sorting Hat had made a fair point putting her in Gryffindor. If she was going to live up to it, she needed to stop running—from her friends, from the truth, from herself.
The girl took a steadying breath, feeling lighter now that she had made up her mind.
Then she smelled it. Thick, acrid smoke filled the air, curling from the oven.
"The biscuits!" – she yelped, springing to her feet in panic and rushing to rescue yet another doomed baking attempt with Hagrid.
It was already getting dark by the time Catherine made her way back to the castle. The conversation with Hagrid had helped—at least a little. Hearing about his own struggles growing up had put things in perspective, but it did nothing to lessen the exhaustion weighing down her limbs. She was barely dragging her feet as she climbed towards the Gryffindor Tower, days of sleeplessness catching up with her fast.
'I need to find a way to swipe some ingredients for Dreamless Sleep Potion from Slughorn.' – the girl thought, slipping through the portrait hole – 'Shouldn't be too hard. He's been eager to chat with me since term started—probably gearing up to play matchmaker again.'
She was already heading towards the girls' dormitory when—out of nowhere—Sirius grabbed her by the arm and all but dragged her in the opposite direction. Before she could even react, he shoved her inside the boys' dormitory and slammed the door shut. James, Peter, and Remus were all there, their expressions tense.
"Alright, I think you've made your point, Flame." – Sirius grumbled, crossing his arms and leaning against the door – "You're as stubborn as a bloody Hippogriff, but even they know when to quit. You can't keep walking around like a zombie!"
"Would you stop comparing me to creatures?" – Catherine muttered, too drained to put up much of a fight.
"What Padfoot means," – James cut in quickly, shooting Sirius a warning look – "Is that we're really worried about you. We don't want you making yourself sick and start losing weight once again. That's why we're insisting—no, demanding—that you come back to sleep here. And we promise we… uh… won't ask any questions you don't want to answer."
The young witch looked at them—really looked at them. Their faces were open, concerned, and just a little desperate. Guilt twisted in her chest. She had been so caught up in her own emotions that she hadn't even considered how much her behaviour must have worried them. At the same time, her body felt like it was seconds away from collapsing. She couldn't even hide the way her gaze lingered on the soft, inviting beds.
Apparently, Remus noticed. He stepped forward with an encouraging smile and gently took her hand.
"We're sorry," - he said softly - "For how we reacted. We didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable about… everything. I know all the attention you're getting isn't welcome, and we'll do our best to help you deal with it."
"And hex the crap out of anyone who bothers you!" – James added with a grin.
Catherine couldn't help it—her lips twitched into the beginnings of a smile.
"That won't be necessary," - she said, trying to suppress the warmth creeping into her voice - "I probably overreacted too. But it's hard, you know? When everything changes overnight. I just… I needed at least you lot to stay the same. To feel the same about me."
"But we do!" – James insisted, looking genuinely frustrated – "You just caught us off guard. Everything will go back to normal, Flame—I swear! Well… except for the part where we have to chase off a few losers now and then. But honestly? That's just a bonus."
"And fight the rumours." – Peter added, frowning – "Nora told me that almost every bit of gossip lately has been about you."
"Lovely." – the girl scoffed, though she knew it was true.
"We've dealt with worse." – Sirius shrugged – "Better to be talked about than walked over."
"Exactly!" – James nodded in agreement.
"You must be exhausted, Flame." – Remus said, giving her a knowing look, then gently pulled her toward one of the beds, guiding her to sit – "Just tell us with whom you'd feel most comfortable, and I promise—everything will seem better after a good night's rest."
"It's not about my comfort." – Catherine protested – "I just thought you'd be the ones feeling awkward sharing a bed with me."
James arched a brow, smirking with that signature arrogance. "Huh? And who told you that, Miss Thinks-She's-Irresistible? Not every wizard who comes near you loses his mind, you know. Get over yourself, witch."
Catherine burst into laughter— a genuine, carefree sound she hadn't made since the school year began.
"Alright then, since you're so full of yourself, I'll bother you tonight, Prongs." – she smirked.
The tension in the room dissolved instantly, the atmosphere shifting back to the easy warmth they had always shared.
"Do you want to sleep right away?" – James asked, fluffing his pillow – "You could use a few extra hours, and I don't mind."
"Nah, not yet." – the girl shook her head – "We still have a lot to talk about and—oh!"
She suddenly jumped off the bed where she was sitting, her jade-green eyes gleaming with excitement
"It completely slipped my mind with all the drama about my looks!" – she exclaimed, stepping into the centre of the room.
The boys watched in confusion until, in a blink, a sleek black panther stood in her place, its agile body stretching lazily across the red and gold carpet, purring with delight.
"You did it!" – James shouted, his face lighting up with pure happiness.
"Damn, girl!" - Sirius laughed, admiring the massive feline as she rolled onto her back playfully - "Now we're just one storm away from becoming full-fledged Animagi. Then the real fun begins!"