Bloodtraitor

by soapzuds

Summary:

Eleven-year-old Zephyr Sylvester-Lee's father had disappeared off the face of the Earth. No matter how hard anyone tried to look, it was as if he had never existed. She had long accepted that he would remain a mystery, until a letter arrives at her house, addressed to her, from an absurdly named school-Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. There, she meets a sullen boy genius with a dark background who offers to help her find answers about her father's sudden disappearance.

Chapter 1: 1.1

Zephyr Sylvester-Lee tossed her house keys onto the table beside the door, dropping her school bag onto the staircase. She flipped on the light switch, flooding the darkened hallway with an orange glow. Outside, crickets chirped and trees were rustling in the night breeze. The house was dead silent, a tell-tale sign that she was completely alone. Her single-parent mother was working a night shift at the bar, and wouldn't return home until the early hours of the morning.

Five years ago, she had been absolutely terrified the first time she was left alone at home. Zephyr remembered that she had curled up under her blanket, clutching a kitchen knife in case someone or something tried to hurt her. Her mother did not have the money to hire a babysitter, nor did she have any friends who could take care of Zephyr. They had just moved to a whole new country, so her mother had no choice but to leave Zephyr alone.

Now, she was completely used to coming home to an empty house every day. Zephyr rarely saw her mother. By the time she came home from work, Zephyr had left for school. When she came home, her mother would have gone to work. Her mother even worked the weekends, so Zephyr learned to be independent quickly and did most of the chores so that her mother had one less thing to worry about.

She sorted through the letters on the table, separating the bills from flyers, and caught sight of a creme-coloured letter at the bottom with her name on it. Zephyr took it, not giving it a second glance as she folded the envelope and slid it into her pocket.

Zephyr headed to the kitchen, pulling out the leftover pepperoni pizza she had ordered for last night’s dinner and chucking two slices into the microwave. Hoisting herself onto the counter beside the microwave, she pulled out the letter to read it.

She ran her fingers over the red wax seal–a large capital ‘H’–before tearing it open carefully. Sliding the letter out, she dropped the envelope to the ground, intending to pick it up later. She unfolded the letter, wincing at the crease that ran down the middle because of the way she had cramped it into her pocket. At the very top of the letter was a large crest, like the one on the front of the envelope that she didn't really examine.

Now, she took the time to stare at it. It was a shape of a shield, with four chunks were taken out at each side. The crest was divided into four, showing different animals in each part–a lion on its hind legs on the top left, a hissing serpent on the top right, a badger facing outwards on the bottom left, and a raven with its wings spread on the bottom right. In the middle was a large ‘H’. Below the crest were the words ‘Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus’.

Zephyr read on with raised eyebrows.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Dear Zephyr Sylvester-Lee,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all the necessary books and equipment. The term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall Deputy Headmistress.

 

Witchcraft? Zephyr re-read the letter to make sure she wasn't hallucinating. She pulled out the second piece of paper and read that one too.

 

UNIFORM

First-year students will require:
1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)
2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear 3.One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
4. One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)
Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags.

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk
A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot
Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling
A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore
Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

 

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
1 set of glass or crystal vials
1 telescope
1 set of brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad.

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS.

Zephyr did the only thing she could think of doing–she called her mother, out of complete confusion.

Her mother picked up on the second ring. Zephyr could hear the pulsing music in the background, along with the chatter of the customers of the Heat Wave Bar.

“Hello?”

“Mom,” Zephyr said, peeling at the loose skin on her lips, wondering if it was actually a good idea to bother her mother. It might have been a prank, but how would whoever sent it know her name?

“Zephyr? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Zephyr glanced at the letter in her hands. “I received a letter?”

“That's nice, honey. Hey, I need to go—”

“—do you know what Hogwarts is?” She blurted out.

Her mother paused. After a moment of silence on both ends, her mother said softly, “did you say Hogwarts?”

“Yes. I have a letter from them, inviting me to attend their school.”

“Oh. Oh, my gosh. I didn't know you’ll…you're really like your father, aren’t you?” her mother said, and she could hear the smile in her voice. “Listen, I’ll leave work now and we’ll have the talk.”

Zephyr blinked, “the talk? I’ve had the—”

“No, not that talk. Just, hang tight. I’ll be home soon. Love you!”

The call ended and she pulled the device from her ears, sighing at her hyperactive mother. Zephyr suddenly remembered that she had pizza in the microwave and retrieved it.

She put three more slices in for her mother and sat there, re-reading her letter until her mother came home, half an hour later.

Zephyr bore little resemblance to her mother. Whilst Eleanora Sylvester had creamy skin, Zephyr had a sort of olive-brown tone. Her mother had curly, warm brown hair while she had straight, jet-black hair. She thought she looked dull like she had been born with a filter that made her always look gloomy. Basically, she looked like her father. It served as an unwanted reminder of the man that had flipped her life upside down.

Her father had gone missing five years ago. One day he was there, and the next he was just gone. Of course, there had been police searches but nothing turned up. It was like he had never existed. Mom loved him although he was the reason they fell into a financial crisis, barely affording to eat two meals a day for years.

“Where's the letter?” her mother dropped a kiss on top of her head, brushing aside her hair and frowning at the bruise on the side of her face. “Are the kids at school disturbing you again? I made sure to tell your teacher to—”

Zephyr gently pulled her hand away, “—I walked into a glass door. I promise. They haven’t bothered me since.”

She wasn't going to let her mother know that the kids threw her bike into the river two weeks ago, and it resulted in her having to walk two kilometres to school every morning. She wasn't going to show her mother the notes that told her to kill herself that they had left in her lockers, pasted on her bag.

Zephyr was not going to give her mother unnecessary worry. Kids were mean, it was a part of life. It will pass, sooner or later. She could soldier it.

Her mother did not look convinced but dropped it knowing that Zephyr wouldn't talk about it anymore. She offered her mother the letter and watched her smile as she read through it.

“Is it real?” Zephyr asked, unable to wait until her mother finished reading.

“Yes, dear. This is where your father went to school.”

“Huh?” Zephyr dropped the crust of her third pizza slice onto the plate, brushing the crumbs off on her shorts. “What?”

“Your father was a wizard.”

She didn't say anything and just stared at her mother in disbelief.

“I’m not one,” her mother clarified, pulling her dinner from the microwave. “I'm a muggle, a human. But your father was a wizard. An average one, but he still could perform magic.”

Zephyr cracked a smile at her mother calling her father average and looked down, “why am I invited to attend?”

“Maybe it's because of your father. I’m not sure how they know you are here, but I’m sure they have their mysterious ways,” her mother reached behind Zephyr to draw back the curtain that covered their kitchen window. “You’ll fit in well there.”

They lived in a two-bedroom apartment; tiny but comfortable and affordable (which was the most important part).

“I can't attend that! We don't have the money for it. Besides, if I go, you’ll be alone,” Zephyr exclaimed.

Her mother laughed gently as she poured out a cup of chocolate milk and handed it to her, “don’t worry about me, firefly. You should act like an eleven-year-old. Be selfish, have fun!”

“But,” Zephyr trailed off, shaking her head. “Money?”

“Your dad has a deposit of wizard money for you. It’ll be okay.”

Zephyr took a long drink from her milk, slurping loudly to convey her disapproval as she narrowed her eyes at her mother.

“Now, the problem is that I have no clue how to obtain an owl,” her mother muttered, frowning. “We can't just steal one from the zoo, can we?”

“No, mom, that's illegal.”

Her mother sighed and undid her hair from its tight bun, “shame. Your father might have some wizardry contacts. I’ll go search. Go finish your homework. You still have school tomorrow.”

Zephyr groaned and slid from the counter, padding to her room, her letters clutched in her grip.

---

A week later, Zephyr followed behind a family of red-haired people awkwardly, wheeling a trolly filled with her Hogwarts school books. They had just come from the tailor where she had purchased five sets of uniforms–they were so expensive, holy shit.

Her mother reached out to some of her father’s old friends and soon, she was in the care of the Weasley family, who had multiple children enrolled in Hogwarts, including Ronald Weasely, who was a first-year like her.

Ron was a nice guy, but he just wouldn't shut up. Zephyr felt like taping his mouth shut, which she couldn't do because his mother had helped her sort everything out, and even provided her with a place to stay the night before she had to leave for Hogwarts.

She sighed, head hanging as he went on and on about how Professor Snape was the meanest teacher on earth. She had no clue who that was, but whatever.

“And we heard that Harry Potter is joining our year!”

“Who?” Zephyr asked distractedly as she glanced into a bookstore, staring wistfully at the rows upon rows of books.

She had a small collection of books and always received a new one every time her mother had her paycheck, despite her complaints that they were a waste of money. Her mother shot down every argument she made with a simple ‘books are educational’. Zephyr wasn't sure how educational fantasy books were, but she was grateful for them. One day, she was going to be rich enough to own her own library.

“You don't know who Harry Potter is?” Ron gasped, horrified. “He’s the boy who lived! You-Know-Who killed his parents when he was a baby, and tried to kill him too! But, he survived. He has a lightning bolt on his forehead, left by a protection spell.”

“I heard that Casspian Blackthorn is also going to enrol as a first-year,” Fred (or was it George?) popped up behind them, causing her to jump.

“Who?” she repeated, once her soul returned to her body after being scared halfway across the universe.

“Casspian Blackthorn is arguably more famous than Potter. More infamous, perhaps. The Blackthorn family is one of the most dangerous families to exist, or at least, used to be. They're known to use Unforgivable curses and are devoted to You-Know-Who. Casspian led the Ministry of Magic straight to their hideout and had his entire family arrested when he was ten years old.”

“No,” Zephyr's jaw dropped. “You're shitting me.”

“Am not,” George (or Fred) grinned wildly. “I wonder how much his autograph is worth.”

“He’ll turn you into an ant if you approach him,” Ron snorted. “People say that he is as bad as the rest of his family.”

She made a mental note to keep away from this Casspian fellow. She wasn't eager to be bullied at a magical school as she had been at a muggle school. They entered a building called the Leaky Cauldron where they would spend the night, still discussing this Casspian Blackthorn, each story making him sound like the evilest person to exist. Half of the stories seemed too absurd to be true, but Ronald swore up, down, left, right and centre that Casspian had done all the horrible deeds. Once the boy got distracted, she slipped away, retreating to her room for some much-needed silence. Zephyr shared her room with Ginny, a girl who was two years younger than her and wouldn't attend Hogwarts until Zephyr was in her third year.

She sat on the floor, sorting her clothes and cramming them into her trunk before squeezing her school books on top. Her own books were tucked at the bottom of her bag.

“Are you excited to attend Hogwarts?” Ginny asked, sprawled on her bed at the opposite end of the room.

Zephyr shrugged, “sure.”

“Ron has practically been bouncing off the walls from excitement and you barely seem to care!”

Zephyr furrowed her eyebrows, trying to figure out whether Ginny was scolding her for not being as pumped up as her brother. “Oh.”

Ginny sat up, crossing her legs under her, “I can't wait until it's my turn. Which house do you suppose you’ll be sorted into?”

Houses were a strange concept to Zephyr. It felt awfully akin to segregation, which wasn't exactly good.

“Dunno.”

“Which house do you want to be in? I know Ron wants to be in Gryffindor–everyone in our family has been a Gryffindor.”

“Ravenclaw, perhaps,” Zephyr shrugged. “Maybe Slytherin.”

Ginny gasped, “why would you want to be in Slytherin? All the evil people come from Slytherin.”

“The name sounds interesting,” Zephyr said diplomatically, not wishing to offend her host's daughter. "I wasn't aware of its reputation."

“Don't say you want to be in Slytherin when you reach Hogwarts.”

Zephyr sighed and relented, “okay. We should sleep soon. I have to wake up early tomorrow.”

---

Zephyr was running late for her train to Hogwarts. It wasn’t the Weasely family’s fault. She had slipped off, not wanting to intrude on them any longer than she needed to. As a result, she had gotten lost, after wandering into a couple of bookstores.

She sprinted across King’s Cross station, right through the wall between nine and three-quarters without much thought to it because Fred had warned her beforehand. She dashed across the magical station and nearly crashed straight into the Hogwarts express, sprouting curses that would have sent Molly Weasely into a grave.

The boy who was dragging his bag onto the train flinched as she nearly ran him over.

“Sorry,” Zephyr panted, winded from her run. “First-day jitters, ya know?”

“You don't say,” the boy drawled, and immediately, she noticed that he had an American accent.

He was tall, given that he was a first-year student; he wasn’t wearing a tie that symbolised that he was from one of the four Hogwarts houses. His hair was funny: dark brown and curly, messy like he had just jumped out of a plane.

She frowned at his hostile tone, “excuse me?”

Before he could reply, he was shooed onboard the train. She followed behind him, lugging her trunk with her. Unfortunately, as they headed down the corridor of the Hogwarts Express, footsteps echoing, there was only one cabin that was empty.

He stopped in front of it before staring at her.

“How about you sit on the floor, and I go in—” he began, but Zephyr swept by him, plopping down on the seat and giving him a shit-eating grin.

“—I guess you’ll have the floor then,” she replied.

“You little fucker,” he said, eyes narrowed at her but he entered the cabin anyways, taking a seat across from her. “You're not from here, are you? You don't have a British accent.”

“Neither have you,” Zephyr said, leaning back in her seat.

The boy shrugged, pulling out a chess board from his bag, “I am. I just grew up in America.”

“Singaporean. I doubt you know where that is.”

“Below Malaysia, also known as the ‘Little Red Dot’. I know everything,” he gave her an arrogant smile, his grey eyes bright with mischief.

Zephyr hid her shock and schooled her expression into one of boredom. “Even I could tell you that.”

“No shit, you’re from Singapore, of course, you can tell me more about your own country.”

“Shove off,” she rolled her eyes, getting agitated.

The stupid, stupid boy seated in front of her made her so annoyed it was impressive.

He grinned at her maliciously and pulled out something rectangular from his bag, along with a wand. He flicked it, and the rectangular thing unfolded itself into a chess board, chess pieces floating to their places on either side of the board.

“I assume you know how to play?” he said, sitting back with his arms folded across his chest.

“Of course,” she said. “I’ll go first.”

Zephyr reached forward and then paused when he held a hand out.

“What now?” she snapped.

“Just say the move. I’ll make them.”

“You could cheat.”

“Me? A cheater? Never.”

“Pawn to e-four,” Zephyr said quickly before the boy began praising himself even more.

Her white chess piece moved into position by itself and she decided that it was definitely more comfortable to play chess like this.

“Pawn to e-five. Hey, I don't even know my opponent’s name,” he said, glancing up at her.

Zephyr gave him a look, “I don't know yours either.”

“Cas.”

“Just ‘Cas’?”

“Just Cas,” he confirmed. “You?”

“Zephyr,” she said. “Pawn to f-three.”

Outside, rain splattered the window, causing the scenery to be a blur of blues and greens. Zephyr wished that she could at least see where the magical train was taking her.

“Pawn to c-five. Tell me more about yourself, Zephyr. Which house do you want to be sorted into?”

She made her move and sat back, “hm. I was under the impression that we weren't given a choice?”

“A hat chooses, yes, but do you really think a magical hat knows you better than you know yourself?”

“One doesn't truly know oneself. We adapt and change to situations, our actions reflect that and not our personality. A so-called ‘brave’ person would run in some situations where a ‘cowardly’ person would stay, simply because of experience,” Zephyr said, head tilted to the side.

Cas mimicked her movements, examining her with cool grey eyes, “interesting. The opposite can also be said. A cowardly person would more likely run in any situation whilst a brave person would stay. This creates a probability that favours the brave person.”

“What defines a brave person? Is it bravery to remain in a situation that is hopeless, or just plain stupidity?” Zephyr shot back, a smile making its way across her face. This was fun.

“Would you stay if the possibility of your survival was very low, but if you did survive, you could save hundreds of lives?”

“And if I died?”

“Hundreds would also die.”

“If I escaped?”

“Less will die, but you’ll live with the knowledge that you could have prevented many deaths.”

“I’ll escape. Three people surviving is better than no survivors. This scenario implies that I am partially responsible for the fatalities.”

Cas blinked lazily at her and stretched like a cat, pulling his legs across his seat, “Ravenclaw or Slytherin.”

“What?”

“You're going to be either a Ravenclaw or a Slytherin. Gryffindor is out and you have nothing in common with a typical Hufflepuff. Ravenclaw because you understand that some survivors are better than none, and risking that is worse than trying to save them and failing. Slytherin because you would save yourself first.”

Zephyr raised her eyebrows at the boy, their chess game long forgotten. “Did you just…sort me?”

“I suppose I did,” he glanced out of the cabin and jumped to his feet as a witch pushed a large cart of food by their door.

Cas pulled out a handful of coins and slid open the door. Soon, he returned with an armful of food, dumping them onto the seat beside her.

“Put it on your side. It's yours,” she complained, poking at a chocolate frog on the top.

“No space,” he said as he sprawled across the seat.

Zephyr rolled her eyes for the umpteen time and picked out the chocolate frog, “since I so graciously lent you my seat, I’ll take some.”

Cas examined a bottle of jelly beans, his legs crossed with his back against the window, “that can be considered stealing.”

“Sure.”

He shrugged and popped a piece of sweet into his mouth. Zephyr couldn't help but grin when his face contorted into an expression of disgust.

“Fucking hell, who even knows what mouldy wood tastes like? I never understood these types of sweets. People had to eat these disgusting things to replicate their taste into jelly beans. Why would you eat…” he trailed off, staring at the back of the container, “earthworms?”

Cas offered the bottle to her, “try your luck.”

She didn't have anything better to do, so she picked the first one her fingers came into contact with and pulled out a blue-and-yellow piece of candy.

“Blueberry and lemon tart, or glow worm,” Cas said.

“Cheers,” she muttered, tossing it into her mouth. “Aye, it's a nice one.”

“Damn,” Cas closed the lid with a snap, apparently bored, and moved on to a push pop that dyed his tongue a bright green. “Which house do you think I’ll be sorted into?”

Zephyr copied his position (which was extremely comfortable) and kicked off her shoes. “I think they'll expel you before you enter the school.”

“Ha-ha, very funny,” he drawled, sweeping his hair from his face. “Really, though.”

“Slytherin.”

“Ugh,” he groaned. “Everyone in my family was from Slytherin too.”

The train shook, causing a couple of chess pieces to fall off the floating board and Cas waved his hand. The pieces stopped mid-fall and began floating back up.

“How do you do that?” Zephyr asked, unable to help herself. “I thought you needed a wand to perform magic.”

“At first, yeah you do. Once you’ve practised enough, you can perform wandless magic. I know some basic wandless spells. I’m trying to learn more.”

“I thought that you weren't allowed to practice outside Hogwarts!”

He nodded, “no, I’m not. But nobody has stopped me yet. I’ll continue until someone does. If I waited to learn how to use spells, like every other dim-witted bloke on this train, I’ll never learn cooler spells in time.”

“Excuse me! Dim-witted? Me?” she gave him an indignant look.

Cas shrugged, “it's the truth. It's really not hard to understand spells.”

“I’m muggle-raised.”

“Fine, then the dim-witted insult is aimed at half-bloods and pure-bloods.”

“Pure-blood,” she scoffed.

“Terminology, not my own words. I’m not racist,” he pulled his wand from his pocket, eyes suddenly bright. “I bet I can teach you some spells right now. Where's your wand?”

Zephyr retrieved hers from her bag and twirled it, “what's the spell, teacher?”

“Try Lumos,” he said, waving his wand. The tip of it lit up like a light bulb. “It's a very convenient one to know.”

She copied his wand movement, “Lumos?”

Nothing happened.

“Say it with confidence. Half of performing magic is to do it like you know what you're doing.”

Zephyr tried again and this time, her wand glowed weakly.

“Not bad. Second try is great,” Cas said, looking surprised. “Let's up the difficulty level, shall we? Accio.”

Her wand flew from her grip as if someone had snatched it, and Cas caught it with his free hand.

“That is awesome,” she admitted, taking her wand back. “Does that only work on wands?”

“Nah, you can do it with anything. Watch,” Cas dropped his wand and pointed his finger at the packet of bubble gum on the floor.

It was pulled into his hand.

“Wandless and wordless,” he grinned triumphantly. “I learned it at a really young age because I was too lazy to lean forward on my sofa and retrieve my cup from the coffee table. You try, with a wand.”

Zephyr glanced around the cabin before pointing her wand at his wand, “Accio!”

It shuddered, like it was reluctant to move, a reflection of its equally lazy owner, before shooting across the cabin and hitting her stomach.

“Jesus fuck,” Cas muttered, clapping. “You're powerful.”

“Am I?”

“First attempt, no proper instructions. That’s very impressive,” he said, giving her a grin. “Let's try a few more.”

---

A couple of hours later, when the sky turned dark, they pulled up to the Hogwarts train station. Zephyr had learned a couple of new spells, most of which were to make her life more convenient (in Cas’ words).

Though the boy had irritated her in the beginning, he mellowed out after a while and she even began to enjoy his company. They left the train, discussing a muggle book that they had both read. It was freezing cold outside and the darkness was kind of eerie. They lingered at the back of the crowd of other first-years, all chatting nervously with each other.

A giant of a man, Hagrid, glanced around and yelled, “firs’ years! Firs’ years over here! “C’mon, follow me–any more firs’ years? Mind yer step, now! Firs’ years follow me!”

Zephyr trailed behind the group, slipping once or twice as they made their way down a narrow, winding pathway. Cas had no trouble navigating the path, hands stuck in his pockets in an irritatingly graceful manner. They were surrounded by shadow—shrouded trees, still and unmoving in the cold night. She half expected something to jump out at her. Thank goodness that Cas taught her some spells—she could at least blind her assailant with Lumos.

“Cas,” she whispered, unable to take the silence any longer.

He glanced behind him, “what?”

“Where's the school? Surely we’ll see it by now.”

Cas shrugged and nearly ran straight into a low-hanging branch. They rounded a corner and she finally spotted Hogwarts.

The giant castle was perched upon a mountain, with massive glass windows and towers that stretched high above into the night sky.

“Holy shit,” she muttered.

Cas dropped behind to her side and grinned, “bet I could make it crumble in a day.”

“I am not betting against that,” Zephyr said, giving him a weird look. “Are they getting onto boats?”

Indeed the other students were. They filed onto little rickety wooden boats that lined the edge of a large lake.

“No more than four in one,” Hagrid yelled.

Zephyr and Cas took one boat. No one else got into their boat, meaning that they had more room which she wasn't complaining about.

“Everyone in?” Hagrid shouted. “Right then; forward!”

On his command, the boats slid across the lake smoothly, which was very impressive given how unsteady the boat felt when she first got on.

Cas dipped his fingers in the water as they sailed, and looked up at her with a twinkle in his dark eyes.

Instantly, she knew what he was going to do. “I swear to god, Cas, do not—”

Too late, he threw a handful of water at her. It was icy cold and shocked her to the bone.

“I will kill you,” she declared and scooped up water to sprinkle at him. He dodged it, laughing.

The boat didn't rock no matter how much they moved, which was a blessing because Zephyr didn't fancy a swim on the first day of school. They bent their heads, pausing their water fight for a moment as they entered a cave, their boat parting through a curtain of ivy. Once they were through, Zephyr sprayed Cas with more water.

He retaliated and their splashing game continued.

Once the boat reached its destination, they got out onto the pebbled ground, both soaking wet and wearing sheepish smiles. Zephyr glanced behind her at their boat which had at least five centimetres of water inside.

“We’re going to die of hypothermia,” she decided.

“You might, I won't. I’m stronger than that.”

“Stronger than what, dying of human illnesses?”

“Absolutely,” he winked at her as he squeezed water from his robes. “I’ll die to, like, a stab wound. Anything less is boring and just plain pathetic.”

“I’m pretty sure you just insulted a ton of people,” Zephyr said, wringing out her hair. The damp locks hung limply against her back.

“How did yer manage that?” Hagrid asked as he noticed how their boat had turned into a miniature pool.

They exchanged looks and Cas shrugged, “no clue, sir.”

Hagrid didn't seem to care all that much and headed back to the front of the group. Zephyr shook her head. How did she manage to do something stupid so quickly? She glanced at the boy beside her, who had become preoccupied with staring at the rocky ceiling. How did some strange and annoying guy manage to drag her into his shenanigans?

They were led through a passageway, up a flight of stairs, and stopped in front of a set of gigantic oak doors.

Hagrid lifted up his fists and knocked three times. The doors swung open.

A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a pinched sort of face with a stern expression, causing a couple of students to take nervous steps back. Unsurprisingly, Cas didn't seem to even notice her presence. He was now fiddling with a Rubix cube, where he got it from she had no idea.

“The first years, Professor McGonagall,” said
Hagrid.

“Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here,” the professor said, pulling the doors open.

Inside, the stone walls were lit with flaming torches, like proper oil-and-cloth torches, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Zephyr could hear the chatter of hundreds of other voices, probably the rest of the school.

Professor McGonagall showed them into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, Zephyr and Cas automatically gravitating towards the back of the room.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” Professor McGonagall said. “The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room.”

“The four Houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each House has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your House points, while any rule-breaking will lose House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes yours.”

Cas arched an eyebrow at her which she did not know what it meant. Zephyr shrugged in return.

“The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting. I shall return when we are ready for you,” said Professor McGonagall. “Please wait quietly.”

She left the chamber. Instantly, the students erupted into an explosion of nervous whispers.

Cas rolled his eyes, “they’re being overdramatic.”

“More fun that way, don't you think?” Zephyr replied, pushing her hair back.

He gave her a strange look, “since when were you an optimist?”

“I think the lake water is affecting me,” she frowned jokingly.

Then, like her day wasn't going to get any more interesting, a hoard of ghosts flew through the castle’s stone walls, gliding above them. They were all translucent and glowing white, not seeming to notice their audience of kids below.

Cas’ eyes were wide with surprise, an emotion Zephyr didn't know he could feel, “fucking hell, that cannot be real.”

“Well, I guess I have to take back my stance on the existence of ghosts–well, the lack of it,” Zephyr muttered to herself, craning her neck as a ghost in tights swooped down in front of them.

“What are you all doing here?”

Cas examined the ghost, his shock gone, replaced by a hostile curiosity. Zephyr decided to step in front of her…friend, in case he tried to attack the dead.

“New students!” said a monk ghost. “About to be Sorted, I suppose?”

Zephyr nodded.

“Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!” said the monk. “My old House, you know.”

Cas snorted, “me? A Hufflepuff? Over my dead—”

Zephyr elbowed him, stopping him from not only insulting the house but all twenty ghosts in the room.

“Move along now,” said a sharp voice. “The Sorting Ceremony is about to start.” Professor McGonagall had returned.

One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

“Now, form a line,” Professor McGonagall told the first years, “and follow me.”

Zephyr was the second last, with Cas bringing up the rear. She whispered to him, “I hope you trip!”

“I hope you trip first,” he shot back quietly, amusement colouring his tone.

They awkwardly filed forwards and entered the Great Hall. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with shining golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here so that they came to a halt in a disorderly line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them.

Above, stars dotted the blackened sky, moonlight cutting through the blanket of darkness. Zephyr was not sure if the stars were just illusions or if the roof was gone, but they definitely looked real.

“Holy shit, it's beautiful,” she said, gasping.

Cas frowned, not even looking up, “is it?” He probably had no clue what she was referring to.

Professor McGonagall placed a four-legged wooden stool in front of the group of first-years. On top, she placed a patchy wizard hat, like those in cartoons, with a pointed tip and all. It must be the magical hat that Cas had mentioned. There was a tense silence as everyone stared at the hat (besides the always-calm Cas).

The hat twitched and she nearly jumped out of her skin as a mouth appeared, like a tear in the hat, and it began to fucking sing.

“Oh, you may not think I’m pretty, but don’t judge on what you see, I’ll eat myself if you can find a smarter hat than me. You can keep your bowlers black, your top hats sleek and tall, for I’m the Hogwarts Sorting Hat and I can cap them all. There’s nothing hidden in your head the Sorting Hat can’t see, so try me on and I will tell you where you ought to be.”

“You might belong in Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart, their daring, nerve, and chivalry sets Gryffindors apart; you might belong in Hufflepuff, where they are just and loyal, those patient Hufflepuffs are true and unafraid of toil; or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, if you’ve a ready mind, where those of wit and learning, will always find their kind; or perhaps in Slytherin you'll make your real friends, these cunning folk use any means to achieve their ends. So put me on! Don’t be afraid! And don’t get in a flap! You’re in safe hands (though I have none) for I’m a Thinking Cap!”

Zephyr’s eyes went wide—a hat knew how to rhythm better than most people! Even Cas looked impressed, clapping along with the rest of the crowd (though, admittedly he did so rather reluctantly).

The hat bowed to each of the four tables before falling silent once more.

Professor McGonagall stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

“When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted,” she said. “Abbott, Hannah!”

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down.

A moment’s pause —“HUFFLEPUFF!” Shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table, looking queasy

“Blackthorn, Casspian!”

A hush fell across the student body. Zephyr paused, looking around for the boy who Ron warned was extremely dangerous.

Cas sighed from beside her and pushed his way to the front. Zephyr raised her eyebrows, jaw hanging open as her first friend in the school put on the hat.

Cas.

Casspian.

Oh.

She was incredibly stupid.

The hat twitched and called out, “Slytherin!”

A murmur went through the hall. No one clapped as he walked towards his table, head lowered. He looked annoyed, hell, even sad. People scooted away as he sat down so that he had a whole table to himself.

Zephyr pressed her lips together, fighting down the sudden wave of anger she felt towards the students. Casspian was a great person (although arrogant at times). He didn't deserve this treatment.

“Bones, Susan!”

“HUFFLEPUFF!” Shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

“Boot, Terry!”

“RAVENCLAW!”

The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined
them.

Brocklehurst, Mandy went to Ravenclaw too, but Brown, Lavender became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers. Bulstrode, Millicent then became a Slytherin.

“Finch-Fletchley, Justin!”

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

“Finnigan, Seamus,” a sandy-haired boy sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

“Granger, Hermione!”

“GRYFFINDOR!” shouted the hat.

The hat took a longtime to decide with Neville Longbottom, a surname that she had to hold back immature giggles upon hearing.

When it finally shouted, “GRYFFINDOR,” Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to MacDougal, Morag.

A Draco Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called. The hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, “SLYTHERIN!”

He also avoided Casspian’s table, despite the rest of the seats being rather crowded. Why was Casspian so hated? She didn't understand how his parents' actions reflected on him. Hell, he had given up his parents. He was a good guy. Then, Zephyr remembered how she had sworn to stay away from Cas when Fred (or George) had warned her about him. Guilt settled into her bones, gawing at her heart.

There weren’t many people left.

“Moon. . .”

“Nott. . .”

“Parkinson. . .”

Then, a pair of twin girls, “Patil” and “Patil”.

“Perks, Sally-Anne.”

“Potter, Harry!”

The second ‘famous’ boy to enter the school. Zephyr craned her neck as a nerdy-looking boy stepped forward. Whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

“Potter, did she say?”

“The Harry Potter?”

His reaction was more positive than Cas’, she realised.

Harry Potter was sorted into Gryffindor, unsurprisingly. The hall broke into an uproar of cheers and claps as the boy made his way to his table.

“Sylvester-Lee, Zephyr!”

She blinked, not expecting her name to be called so suddenly. Slowly, she approached the stool, her hands shaking. She picked the hat up, glancing towards Cas who was staring at her, an unreadable expression on his face. He was still alone.

Zephyr sat, plopping the hat down onto her head. It covered half of her face and smelt like dusty books. She nearly sneezed. Then, she heard the hat speak in her head.

“What an interesting mind. A drive unrivalled by anyone so far, a keen thirst for knowledge and, such wit for a child your age. So much compassion as well. Where could I put you?”

“With Casspian,” she found herself whispering. “He's alone.”

“His mind is just as fascinating as yours, Zephyr. Quiet, lonely, but he will not feel that way any longer, for you belong in…”

“...Slytherin!” the hat yelled out the last word.

Zephyr grinned, tearing the hat from her head and placing it down on the seat with slightly more gentleness. Hurriedly, she made her way to Cas who was staring at her in absolute shock, and slid into the seat beside him.

“You said you wanted Ravenclaw!” he exclaimed, grey eyes shining.

“Well, I decided that I needed to prevent you from burning down Hogwarts,” Zephyr shrugged, trying not to appear pleased by his reaction.

He beamed at her, his smile lacking its usual judgemental amusement or arrogance, just plain happiness. “Thank you, Zephyr.”

The last four students were sorted into Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor and Slytherin in that order.

“Welcome!” A man with a long, white beard said. “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!”

“Huh?” Zephyr’s confusion was drowned out by thunderous clapping.

She looked back at their once-empty table and found it covered in platters of food.

“What the fuck?” Cas noticed the food as well. “Is that roast beef?”

She watched, eyebrows raised as the boy shoveled a mountain of meat onto his plate. He dug into a lamb chop, “c’mon, or I’ll eat it all!”

Zephyr wasn’t used to this much food. The amount of food at the Slytherin table alone was more than what she’d afford in a year. She helped herself to curly fries and steak, filling her goblet with a soda that tasted like cola.

Draco Malfoy, who was just across from them on the next table, leant forward, “you're actually Casspian Blackthorn?”

Cas paused from sawing off a slice of meat, “why would I fake my identity?” He speared the piece of pork and shovelled it into his mouth in a manner that was akin to a wolf tearing into its lunch.

“You should sit with us, people who have status, instead of whoever she is,” Draco said, eyeing her with disgust.

Zephyr blinked, not really knowing where the sudden malice came from, “excuse me?”

Cas was having none of it. He snarled, “shut your mouth, Malfoy, or I’ll do it for you.”Casspian twirled his wand idly in his free hand, a motion that couldn't be described as anything other than threatening.

Zephyr wasn't sure if Casspian was going to stab Draco with the wand or curse him. Regardless, she intervened before her friend got arrested on the first day of school.

“Hey, quit it,” she said, waving her knife. “Both of you.”

Draco's gaze followed the motion of her knife and scoffed before turning back to his friends. Cas dejectedly slid his wand back into his cloak. A couple of moments later, a ghost settled down next to Malfoy who did not seem all that thrilled. After they finished with their main course, the food was replaced with dessert, from blocks of ice cream of all sorts, to rice pudding. Zephyr took a chunk of sticky Oreo-flavoured ice cream and drizzled caramel sauce over.

Casspian offered her a plate of strawberries which she refused with a disgusted ‘ugh’.

“You don't like strawberries?” Cas sounded throughly offended, popping one into his mouth. “They’re fucking fantastic.”

“Absolutely not. They're so sour and bleh.”

At last, the dessert disappeared and Dumbledor (the man with an impressively long beard) got up. The hall fell silent instantly.

“Ahem—just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is
forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.”

“I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their House teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.”

“Well, I know what we're doing tonight,” Cas said, sitting up.

“Let's not,” she said, shaking her head.

“Fine, I’ll leave that for later. How do you fancy a walk through the forest?"

“Cas!”

He sighed, frowning at her, “party pooper.”

“And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!” cried Dumbledore.

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself into words.

“Everyone pick their favorite tune,” said Dumbledore jovially, “and off we go!”

The school bellowed, “Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts, teach us something please, whether we be old and bald or young with scabby knees, our heads could do with filing with some interesting stuff, for now they’re bare and full of air, dead flies and bits of fluff, so teach us things worth knowing, bring back what we’ve forgot, just do your best, we’ll do the rest, and learn until our brains all rot.”

Zephyr didn't sing, too confused at the clashing voices. Cas was playing with his rubix cube again.

Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.

“Ah, music,” he said, wiping his eyes. “A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!”

Zephyr and the rest of the Slytherin first years followed their prefect out of the hall and up the marble staircase. Cas was pointing at the paintings, with moving people inside, that lined the wall, telling her their respective history.

“That woman in that painting killed her husband by sticking her wand up his. . .”

“. . .and that one, after it was painted, the artist took a knife, went down to the nearest hospital and. . .”

“. . .it is rumoured that anyone who sees that painting will die a horrible death! But, obviously, it's false. Otherwise everyone here would be dead,” Cas shrugged nonchalantly.

They stopped outside a blank wall, void of all portraits unlike the rest of the place.

Their prefect, a Billy 'Hills' Harlot said, “pure-blood.” The wall slid open and Zephyr wrinkled her nose at their password.

Cas looked equally displeased, “there are so many levels of wrong with that.”

“Is there a problem, Mr Blackthorn?” Hills asked, giving them a look.

“There is, actually,” Casspian straightened, grey eyes cold. “The password is absolutely crap. The whole ‘pure-blood’ bullshit is, well, bullshit.”

“Just because your parents are respected by Slytherins, doesn't mean that you will be too,” Hills snapped, his green eyes equally hostile. “You first years have a lot of nerves.”

“Oh? Is that right?” Cas had his wand out, holding it loosely in his grip, a hand tucked into his pocket. His hair, which Zephyr had disheveled earlier for fun, now hung in his eyes, giving him a feral look.

Hills gestured for the other first years to go ahead before pulling his own wand out, “I won’t go easy on you just because you're new.”

“I don’t think this is a good idea, Cas,” she whispered, tugging at his robe.

“Trust me,” he beamed down at her before gently pushing her behind him, acting as a human shield. “I know what I’m doing.”

The prefect waved his wand, “Incarcaous!”

Ropes flew out from the tip of his wand, snaking towards Cas who flicked his own without saying a word. The ropes caught fire and were destroyed.

“Nonverbal spell casting? You're only a first year. It's not taught until the sixth year,” Hills spluttered, stunned.

“You think that's cool? Watch this one,” Cas grinned viciously, wand hand falling to his side.

Then, the elder boy fell to his knees, choking. His eyes rolled up in his head as he began scratching at his neck, face turning red. Everyone froze and Zephyr could taste the fear in the air.

“Anapneo,” Cas said after a moment, sounding bored.

Hills gasped as he could breathe again, rolling over and coughing.

“Anyone else?” Cas asked, glancing about. “No? Good. Let's go.”

Cas grabbed her arm and dragged her out of the room.

“What was that?” Zephyr cried as she stumbled over the lip of a stair. “The wandless, nonverbal magic?”

“It's my own spell. That’s how I learnt to do it. It fills the target’s windpipe with cement, making it impossible to breathe until I, or someone else, reverse it,” he explained quickly as he reached a door.

“Say ‘Alohomora’,” Cas gestured to her wand and then to the door.

Zephyr slid her wand out, “what does it do?”

“Unlocks the door. Quickly, now, before the groundskeeper catches us. Tap your wand to the lock while saying it.”

“Alohomora,” she murmured, touching the tip of her wand to the door.

The lock clicked and Cas smiled, the stormy expression he had on fading. He said, “very good, Zephyr. You're a natural.”

He opened it and ushered her out of the school, into the courtyard. Zephyr gave him a look, “what are we doing out here?”

“The forbidden forest. That’s where we’re going,” Cas said, pulling his coat tighter around him. “I wanna see what is so forbidden about this forest.”

“Maybe there are wolves that want to tear us apart?” she suggested dryly. “I rather not get killed.”

“You’ll be fine. You’ve got me!” Casspian paused, then added, “and I’ll teach you to defend yourself.”

They entered the forest, taking a winding, packed-dirt pathway into the darkness of the woods. The grass tickled her ankles and she grimaced at the thoughts of the insects crawling up her legs.

“How far must we walk?” she called out to the boy a few meters in front of her.

Cas didn’t reply, just picking up speed. Zephyr groaned and hurried after the boy.

They soon entered a small clearing where the moonlight illuminated the large rock and circle of grass.

“How did you know this was here?” Zephyr asked, spinning in a circle to take in the sight.

“I didn’t. I just walked,” he turned to face her. “Let me teach you more spells, hm?”

“Teach me the most dangerous spells,” she perked up eagerly.

Casspian frowned at her, “I can only teach you ones I know. Let me think of the most lethal one I know.”

“I read about these things called Unforgivable Curses.”

Casspian’s eyebrows shot up and he regarded her with an unreadable expression. “You know what they are?”

“Read of them. There are three, right?”

“Yes. Avada Kedavra, also know as the killing curse,” Cas settled down on the grass, patting the ground beside him to get her to sit as well. “Instantly kills the target. There isn’t exactly a counter spell, but you can block it with physical objects or fast stunning spells. Dodging it is the easiest option. Crucio is the spell that causes unbearable pain. Finally, the most boring one of all, Imperio. It makes the victim completely obediant to the caster,” Casspian explained. “The last one was how my dad potty trained our dog.”

“Do you know how to cast them?”

Casspian gave her a shrug, looking uncomfortable, “no.”

She could tell that he was lying but she dropped it, “any others?”

“I could teach you the one I casted on Hills. It's hard, since I was the one who created it, but I suppose you can try.”

“Try it?” Zephyr asked, confused. “On who?”

Cas gave her the biggest grin she’d ever seen on someone, “on me.”

She gaped at him, “huh? But wouldn't it mean that I would choke you?”

“If you can cast the spell, yes. But that's doubtful. Secondly, I know how to reverse the spell nonverbally, so I’ll be fine.”

“If you say so,” Zephyr replied hesitantly, not sure if the boy was suicidal or mocking her. Perhaps a mix of both? “What’s the spell?”

“Concretum comedenti,” he said lazily, plucking a few blades of grass. “Need me to repeat it?”

“No,” she said with an eye roll.

She tried out the spell, pointing the wand at him. Nothing.

“Do it with anger. It’s supposed to be a spell that causes harm.”

Oh, she’ll show him anger in a minute.

“Why don't wizards just use guns? They're more convenient,” Zephyr said with a groan.

“Firstly, this isn’t the USA. Gun laws are strict. Also, the authorities will be more concerned over children carrying firearms than them carrying sticks. Secondly, magic is faster and more versatile than a gun. You can’t bind someone with a bullet.”

“You can incapacitate them,” argued Zephyr even though she knew that Cas had a point.

Cas always had a point, it seemed.

The boy laid down on the ground, head resting on interlocked hands and he drawled, “try again.”

She did, this time imagining Casspian choking. He scratched his nose.

“More anger,” he advised, very unhelpfully.

“Concretum comedenti!” She said through gritted teeth and flicked her wand a bit too hard. The force ripped it from her grip and it smacked Casspian in the face.

He sat up indignantly and exclaimed, “I said cast a spell, not assault me! It’s literally so easy, just use your brain.”

Earlier, Zephyr wouldn't react much to the insult. She would have just retorted something similar and then changed the topic. However, she was sleep deprived and overwhelmed from such drastic changes that she snapped.

“I’ll show you what’s the real meaning of assault in a minute if you don't shut up,” Zephyr threatened, standing. “This is stupid and we have classes tomorrow. If you want to spend the night out in the cold forest, do it. Just don’t drag me down with you, Blackthorn.”

She took off, hoping that she could remember which direction she had been led from. Zephyr heard Casspian call for her but she ignored them, trudging across wet earth in hopes to blow off some steam.

Somehow, maybe by luck or perhaps she had a good memory, she found herself back at the school. She cracked open the door and slipped back into the welcomed warmth of the stone castle.

Zephyr snuck back into the Slytherin dormitory, ducking into an empty classroom from Finch when he came by holding a lantern. It was completely silent, all of her Housemates being asleep at this ungodly hour. Only a madman like Casspian Blackthorn would be awake

She shared her room with four other girls but she hadn't had the chance to talk to them yet. Zephyr knew she had to–her admittedly harsh outburst earlier guaranteed the ending of the friendship between Cas and her.

Zephyr showered, changed and crawled into bed four hours before she had to wake.

Chapter 2: 1.1.5

Summary:

I completely forgot about the wand selection, so here you go. Enjoy!

Zephyr pushed open the door to the shop named ‘Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C’. It was void, besides a brown-haired boy ogling a wand on display.

The store was akin to a Library—large and filled with oak wood shelves covered with slim boxes of different colours and sizes. They were stacked in neat rows all the way to the ceiling and seemed ready to collapse at any second, so she backed away from the counter. The boy left the store, not even looking at her as he exited. The bell tinkled as the door swung shut behind him.

“Good afternoon,” a quiet voice said.

Zephyr whipped around. There, standing at the previously void register, was an old man. He smiled at her, his silvery, all-seeing eyes peering into her own.

“Good afternoon,” she repeated, her heart still racing. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

“You look just like your father, Zephaniah Lee,” the man stated. “Is he who you were named after, Zephyr Sylvester-Lee?”

“How did you know my name? And my father’s?”

“I know many things. I know his wand was rare, made from Ceder, with the core of a Phoenix’s feathers. I know whichever wand that chooses you will be just as unique as his wand was,” Ollivander said.

“Pheonix?” She repeated weakly. Phoenixes existed?

“Which is your wand arm?” The man produced a long measuring tape with silver markings out of his robes,

‘I’m right-handed,” she said, holding out her arm.

The man trailed the tape from her shoulder to her fingers and hummed thoughtfully. Ollivander stepped back and the measuring tape continued to slither down her arm like a snake on its own. It measured the distance of her elbow from her wrist, shoulder to the floor, her knees to her armpits and her head width.

“Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Zephyr,” he explained. “We use Unicorn hairs, Phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of Dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two Unicorns, Dragons, or Phoenixes are quite the same. And, of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard’s wand.”

He disappeared behind a shelf and reappeared with four boxes, setting them down. “Try this one–Unicorn tail hair, Applewood, quite unyielding, ten inches. Give it a wave.”

Zephyr picked the stick up and made a vague gesture in the air. The man pulled it out of her grip and replaced it with another wand.

“Blackthorn, Phoenix tail feather core, eight inches. Very obedient.”

Zephyr swished it and Ollivander shook his head, handing her yet another. However, time and time again, the wand was snatched from her.

Black Walnut, Dragon heartstrings, eleven and a half inches.

Chestnut, Phoenix tail feather core, ten and three-quarters of an inch.

Ebony, Dragon heartstrings, nine inches.

None of them fit her. Once Zephyr had been rejected by her sixth wand, Ollivander sighed, “I was hoping that it wasn’t going to come to this.”

He reached down and unlocked a drawer. Nestled between foam was a beautiful pale wand with intricate brown swirls dancing from its base to its tip.

Carefully, the man set it down on the table. He said quietly, “try it out.”

Zephyr picked the stick up. It seemed to hum in her hand, a welcoming buzz that made her grin. She flicked the wand and the light bulb overhead shattered.

“It has chosen you,” he said grimly. “You must not tell anyone what this wand is made from. Lie if you must, but you must keep its core secret. You are holding a very rare wand. It is forged from Yew wood and Thestral tail hair. It is ten inches in length and is said to be the hardest wand to tame. Its sister wand is named the Elder wand, carried by the greatest wizard of all time–Albus Dumbledore. This wand is the only other of its type. It has chosen you and I am more than glad to get rid of it.”

Zephyr blinked down at the object in her grip. “Thanks?”

She was not sure what to make of her new weapon. She wasn't powerful—how the hell would she get a wand of this strength to obey her?

“First the Potter boy, then the Blackthorn boy, and now you. This year has been filled with the most curious wand choices,” the man mused as he wrapped her stick in brown parchment.

He handed it to her and she paid before leaving the shop, questions brimming in her mind.

Chapter 3: 1.2

Notes:

helloooo. so, i'd like to first start off by saying that i first wrote Cas and Zephyr in the Goblet of Fire instead of the first book. then, i decided i wanted to see their journey from start to finish, so here we are! anyways, the schedules for Hogwarts classes may not be cannon because i have my own plans for them. so, yeah. that's all. enjoy!

She awoke the next morning to giggling. She sat up groggily, confused when she realized that her roommates were gathered around her.

“Are you trying to haze me?” Zephyr asked, rubbing her eyes.

“Casspian Blackthorn waltzed in ten minutes ago and put them on your table,” one of the girls replied, covering her mouth, cheeks flushed red.

“Did he try to kill me?” Zephyr asked, bewildered and reached for the shoebox on her bedside table.

“No!” Another girl whispered-yelled and glanced over her shoulder like Cas was going to pop out from underneath one of their beds. “He threatened us though, but we could tell that he didn't mean it really.”

“What did he say?” She asked, dread settling in. Knowing Cas, he might have cursed the girls.

“He said that if we woke you, he’d hex us into permanent silence,” the third girl replied, shrugging. “Please don't tell him we woke you up.”

“Who cares about that?” Her last roommate cut in. “Open the box!”

Zephyr did, her curiosity winning over her cautiousness. Inside was a small rectangular box of white chocolate, her discarded wand and an envelope.

She tore the seal of the envelope to read its contents and started to laugh. He had given her a handmade coupon that allowed her to ask him to curse anyone for free, valid for only one use. He had also apologised to her at the very bottom of the paper.

Carefully, she kept the box inside her drawer, intending to ask Cas for a spell later to prevent the chocolate from melting.

Once she had gotten dressed in her uniform–she had to ask for help to tie her green Slytherin tie–she heard down the stairs. Waiting for her below was Casspian. He was leaning against the wall, reading a rather thick book.

“What’s that?” Zephyr asked.

He flinched and glanced up, shutting the book. Cas examined her before saying quietly, “good morning, Zephyr. Did you read my note?”

“I did,” she said, quite delighted with how meek the boy sounded. “Am I allowed to use the coupon to ask you to hex yourself?”

“How about I teach you how to put a curse on me and you can save the coupon?” Cas offered good-naturedly, smiling at her. “You seem less cross with me.”

“I may have overreacted yesterday,” she admitted, rubbing the back of her neck.

Cas shook his head quickly, hair flopping against his forehead, “no! Your outburst was justified. I would be annoyed if some annoying bastard dragged me out into the woods in the dead of the night.”

Zephyr frowned at his word choice and nudged him as they made their way out of their common room. “Hey, don’t call yourself that.”

“Call myself what? A bastard or annoying?” He joked as they began down the stairs.

“Both,” she didn’t return his smile.

Cas sighed, stopping in front of her. Though she was a step higher than he was, he was at the same height. He grasped her shoulders gently, staring into her eyes.

“I am not used to having a friend, much less someone who cares about how I treat myself. Give me a week to get used to having non-hostile company,” Cas said gently and she nodded silently, heart swelling with warmth.

He then ruined the moment by ruffling her hair, causing it to become frizzy.

“Casspian,” she began, then paused. “What is your middle name?”

“Augustus.”

“You certainly don’t run out of aristocracy indicators, do you?” Zephyr arched an eyebrow. “Anyways, Casspian Augustus Blackthorn, I will rip off your hands and feed them to you if you mess with my hair again.”

“Your threat is noted, although with a degree of scepticism.”

They reached the Great Hall, which was already quite filled with sleepy but hungry students. They took their seats at the table they had occupied the night before, pouring over their schedules that were handed to them by a greasy-haired professor named Snape.

“We have Potions from nine till ten thirty AM. Snape’s our teacher,” Cas announced before placing a spoonful of honey oats into his mouth.

“You know what I don’t get?” Zephyr pointed to the scroll. “Why do we have such a long break between classes? We are literally free from ten forty-five AM until one forty PM. That’s such a waste of time.”

Cas gave her a slow, cat-like blink, “what do you propose we do with that time?”

“I dunno,” she shrugged helplessly. “More classes? Study?”

“We’re literally First-year students. We’re supposed to take this year nice and easy,” Cas said with a sigh. “You’re such a perfectionist.”

“Oh, piss off mister hair-must-be-perfectly-gelled,” Zephyr grumbled jokingly.

The boy gave her a frown, running his hand through his locks self-consciously. “I do not use gel.”

“Bull.”

“I don’t!”

Their childish bickering probably would have lasted through the entirety of breakfast when loud, ear-piercing screeches interrupted them. Owls of all sizes and colours swarmed into the Great Hall.

“What the hell?” Zephyr had to yell to be heard over the din.

Cas leant closer, exclaiming just as loudly, “they deliver mail!”

An owl, a white gigantic beast with very fluffy feathers swooped down, dropping a brown letter onto Cas’ head and flew off just as quickly.

“From my, erm, guardian,” the boy looked uncomfortable, stuffing the envelope into his robes.

Zephyr did not pry and instead changed the subject, “seems like I don’t have any mail.”

Cas shovelled the last bit of his food into his mouth and set his bowl down with a loud clink that made her goblet rattle. He gave an apologetic shrug and said, “do you want to go now? We have ten minutes before Potions starts and I have no clue as to where it is.”

Zephyr polished off the last bite of her bacon before shouldering her bag on her shoulder that contained her textbooks. Cas grabbed his own and they made their way out of the Great Hall.

“You know,” Cas said as they rounded the corner. “There are a hundred and forty-one stairs in Hogwarts.”

“And you know this, how?” Zephyr leapt onto one of the stairs, tugging Casspian with her as the whole thing began to move. “Whoa!”

They clung onto the bannister as the staircase shifted magically, aligning them to a different corridor. Cas grinned wildly, delighted that a normal activity like climbing could result in deadly injuries whilst Zephyr just prayed she wouldn’t fall and plummet to her death.

“I know this because I am awesome,” Cas declared, bouncing up the remaining steps onto solid ground. She followed behind cautiously, ready to throw herself off if the stairs began to move again.

The boy took in her raised eyebrows and amended, “I also read Hogwarts, a History.”

Zephyr cleared her throat, “nerd.”

“Oh, shove off.”

She grinned at him as they headed down the hallway.

“Why do I feel like we’re going the wrong way?” Zephyr asked.

Cas gave her a half-hearted glare from over his shoulder, “what, don’t you trust my sense of direction?”

“No,” she deadpanned.

“I promise we’re going the correct way—”

---

“You absolute piece of dog crap,” Zephyr swore as they raced down The Grand Staircase. “It was literally beside our Common Room!”

“Shut up!” Cas called back, leaping the last three steps.

They sprinted down the corridor, eleven minutes late to their first class of the first day of school. They finally reached the Dungeons and Cas threw the heavy wooden door open. Instantly, the whole class turned to stare at their sudden (and very loud) entrance. Zephyr’s face burned and she ducked behind Casspian to escape the attention.

“Sorry, Prof’,” Cas said casually, sweeping a hand through his hair. “We were lost.”

Professor Snape gave them a lazy stare and then wordlessly gestured to the table at the very back of the room, the only one that was still empty. It seems like their Head of House was as biased as rumours said he was. They headed over, taking a seat. Cas dragged his chair out, wooden legs screeching across the floor. Zephyr slapped him across the shoulder. He glared back indignantly.

“I shall mark you two as late,” Professor Snape drawled. “I assume you are Casspian Blackthorn and Zephyr Sylvester-Lee?”

She nodded, her eyes still narrowed at her friend. Cas hung his head, whispering a quiet ‘sorry’. Zephyr sighed, guilt gnawing at her, and elbowed him. The boy looked at her, grey eyes remorseful, and she grinned at him to show that he was forgiven. He beamed back, straightening in his seat.

Snape continued with his attendance taking, going back to alphabetical order.

“Crabbe, Vincent?”

A pudgy, bull-dog-like boy with brown hair and mean eyes raised his hand. He was from Slytherin.

“Granger, Hermione?”

“Here, Professor!” A bushy-haired brunette Gryffindor exclaimed.

“Gregory, Goyle?”

Another Slytherin boy. He looked scarily identical to Vincent.

“Harlot, Dorian?”

“Present,” a blond-haired boy called.

“Harlot?” Cas muttered under his breath. “Isn’t that Hills’ family name? He has a younger brother?”

Zephyr shrugged.

A couple of names were called before Professor Snape paused.

“Ah, yes,” Professor Snape said softly, “Harry Potter. Our new celebrity.”

Draco, Crabbe and Goyle, snickered behind their hands. They sat together, three of them cramped uncomfortably into one table. Cas rolled his eyes before flicking to the next page of his Potions textbook. Snape finished calling the rest of the class and regarded them with beady black eyes.

“You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making,” he began softly, the whole class (besides Casspian) hanging onto every word. “As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don’t expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses…I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death–if you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.”

Cas scribbled something at the corner of his book and slid it across the table to her. She stifled a giggle. He had scrawled: ‘Snape should consider writing poetry.’

More silence followed his dramatic speech. Most of the class was terrified, other than Dorian, Casspian and Hermione, who all seemed excited.

“Potter!” snapped Professor Snape suddenly. “What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

Hermione’s hand shot into the air.

Cas muttered, “it’ll brew a Drought of Living Death.”

“I don’t know, sir,” Harry said.

Professor Snape sneered, “tut, tut. Fame clearly isn’t everything.” He ignored Hermione’s hand. “Let’s try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”

“A goat’s stomach,” Cas said quietly.

“Nerd,” Zephyr teased.

“Shush it,” he replied with a grin.

Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without leaving her seat but Harry seemed to be clueless.

“I don’t know, sir,” Harry said softly, ears red.

“Thought you wouldn’t open a book before coming, eh, Potter?”

Cas raised his eyebrows in agreement.

“What is the difference, Potter, between Monkshood and Wolfsbane?”

Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling.

“I don’t know,” said Harry quietly. “I think Hermione does, though, why don’t you try her?”

There was some scattered, nervous laughter from the class.

“Sit down,” Professor Snape snapped at Hermione. “For your information, Potter, Asphodel and Wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for Monkshood and Wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of Aconite. Well? Why aren’t you copying it down?”

People began to dig out their quills and parchment paper. Zephyr had already jotted Cas’ answers down so she did not need to rush to transcribe what her teacher had said.

“And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter,” Professor Snape said. “I will separate you into pairs and you will use your textbook to brew a Cure for Boils."

Quite expectedly, Zephyr ended up with Casspian. They pretended to dread being partners before grinning at each other and beginning.

“Textbook says—” Zephyr began and glanced up. She paused, laughter bubbling from her lips. Cas looked ridiculous in the safety goggles—golden and circular, like those used whilst riding a motorbike.

Cas beamed, “fashion statement of the year?”

“God, it’s nightmare material,” Zephyr giggled covering her eyes.

“I already memorised most of the textbook,” Cas said, closing his book with a soft thud. “First step is to add six Snake Fangs and crush it into a fine powder using the mortar and pestle.”

“And where do we obtain that?” Zephyr asked.

“I’ll get the ingredients. Can you wash the equipment with Deionised water to prevent cross-contamination?” Cas did not wait for her answer, already heading off towards a cupboard.

Zephyr did as he asked, rinsing the apparatus with Distilled water out of a plastic bottle and tossing the liquid down the sink. Once he returned, they took turns grinding the Snake Fangs (six in total and not six pairs) down into white dust.

“Four scoops into the caldron,” Zephyr read out. “Wanna do the honours?”

Cas smiled and portioned it out. Once done, he heated it for ten seconds, lighting a fire underneath with a wave of his wand and a muttered spell. The powder turned into a shimmering white liquid. He then handed her a long wooden spoon. Zephyr began to stir the contents.

“Slow down. You’ll cause the potion to not heat up enough,” Cas said, leaning against the table. “Anyways, do you want to trade muggle stories?”

“Let’s do that while preparing the rest of the reagents,” she suggested dryly.

“Good idea! Here, I’ll chop the Pungeous Onions, you keep stirring,” Cas said, pulling out a gleaming scalpel and a couple of red-coloured bulbs. “Tell me about your childhood!”

Zephyr paused, wincing, “erm.”

“Or not. I’ll go first,” Cas noticed her discomfort and took over. “I was taken to an ice skating rink in New York the week before Christmas last year. It was really crowded and so I had a time limit for how long I could spend on the ice. I remember how cold it was and how easily I glided across the surface. There were multi-coloured lights hung over us. I got distracted and crashed right into this couple. I floored the woman and it was both horrifyingly embarrassing and hilarious.”

“My mom took me to the bar she worked at last year for Christmas,” Zephyr said quietly as Cas added the onions. “It was crowded that night so of course, my mom had to work on Christmas. She refused to let me spend the holiday alone so I was brought along. I sat in the security office for the entire night, watching cartoons and eating pies that the staff would bring for me. After her shift was over, she gave me a cloth-bound classics book—The Picture of Dorian Grey.”

“Did you grow up in bars?”

“No. I stayed home mostly,” Zephyr said, pressing her lips together.

“Were most holidays like that?” Cas asked, eyes soft without any hint of malice.

She nodded silently, preparing herself to see judgement on his face.

“That's cool. We can spend Christmas together this year if you like,” Cas said easily and stole the ladle from her.

She stared at the boy, eyes wide. She said, “you’d…you’d do that?”

“Yeah,” Casspian shrugged nonchalantly but his neck turned pink, betraying his emotions.

“I mean,” she said quickly, looking down at the book, “I’ll have to ask my mom if she’s okay with it first, but it's likely to be a yes.”

“Great,” his grin was loop-sided. “I’m a master at snowball fights.”

“Bring it on, Blackthorn.”

Professor Snape swept by in his long, black cloak. Briefly, she wondered if he had ever caught fire before. Surely his clothing was a safety hazard?

He glared at them, “I was not aware that making potions required talking.”

“But working in pairs do,” Cas replied cheekily. “Besides, the potion is good.”

Zephyr’s eyebrows arched upwards. Oh dear, what was Cas doing? She reached for some pickled Horned Slugs and tossed five into a small simmering pot, lighting a Bunsen Burner before placing the small bowl over it on an Asbestos mesh.

“Self-praise is no praise—” Snape stopped as he glanced into their cauldron. He seemed pleased at the contents. “Hmph.”

He walked away, snapping at Harry and Ron over their chopping technique.

Cas winked at her, “told ya I memorised the book.”

Zephyr opened a test tube filled with green power—Dried Nettles and measured out five grams of it. She scraped the plant into the cauldron.

“What’s after this?” She asked the boy.

“Free period. We can head to the library to continue to study, if you’d like,” Cas said, reaching over to grab a small bottle of dark green slime that was labelled as ‘Flobberworm Mucus’.

“What’s this for?” Zephyr asked, coming to his side to watch him dribble a bit of the liquid into their mixture. The smell of plants grew stronger as Cas began to stir vigorously, almost causing the liquid to splash out.

“Thickens the potion,” Cas explained. “Pass me the powdered Ginger Root, please.”

She handed him a tin filled with a light yellow powder. He added two pinches of the ingredient as he continued to mix.

“This is like cooking class,” she said, wringing her hands as she glanced at the Book of Potions. Unlike Casspian, she had not memorised the book. She felt pretty much useless as compared to her friend who knew exactly what he was doing.

He glanced at her, like he had heard her thoughts, and handed her the wooden ladle. “Here,” he said. “Stir gently now.”

Cas plopped two grey spiky things (he informed her that they were called Shrake Spines) into the potion. As they touched the liquid, they erupted into silvery flames that died off just as quickly as they appeared.

“Look at Malfoy’s potion and how he stews his Horned Slugs. Unlike you blundering fools, he knows the art of doing so. He is the only competent one out of all of you,” Professor Snape called out. The blond boy grinned smugly around the classroom.

Cas rolled his eyes, scoffing under his breath, “only competent one my ass.” Then, he said a tad bit louder, “your’s is perfect too, Zephyr.”

“Thanks.”

There was a surprised yelp from the Gryffindor side of the classroom, the sound of liquid fizzing echoing through the room. Thick, green smoke curled up through the air from Neville’s and Seamus’ area. They had a large hole on the side of their cauldron, the potion burning holes in their shoes as it leaked out.

Cas snorted, “they forgot to remove the cauldron from the fire when they added the Porcupine Quills.”

He helped her up onto their table and they sat there as the potion began to spread across the floor. Neville was groaning in pain, his skin covered with red, angry boils. Cas leaned over and tipped a glug of Stewed Horned Slugs from the small bowl she had been brewing them in.

“Idiot boy!” Professor Snape growled, cleaning the mess with a flick of his wand. “I suppose you added the Porcupine Quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?”

Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose. Cas was hiding his laughter, shoulders shaking as he lugged the cauldron off the fire. Zephyr quickly jumped up to help.

Cas waved his wand over the solution and pink smoke began to waft upwards, produced by their blue solution. He grinned at her, “done!”

“Take him up to the hospital wing,” Professor Snape spat at Seamus. Then he rounded on Harry and Ron, who had been working next to Neville. “You–Potter–why didn’t you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he’d make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That’s another point you’ve lost for Gryffindor.”

Harry looked like he was about to protest, his cheeks flushed red with anger, but Ron tugged him down, shaking his head. The Professor glared at them once more and stormed away towards Cas’ and Zephyr’s table.

Zephyr tensed as the man stared into their cauldron before he wordlessly turned away and continued to the pair in front of them. Casspian winked at her as she let out a sigh of relief. She carefully scooped some into an empty round-bottomed flask, stoppering it with a wooden cork. Out of the entire class, only three pairs had managed to create a potion that Professor Snape had found satisfactory—her and Cas, Dorian and Quincy Ferdinand, and Hermione and Amelina Saunders.

They were allowed to bring their brews with them and they left, laughing over Neville’s accident.

Chapter 4: 1.3

“This is stupid,” Cas grumbled half-heartedly as they clambered up the stairs to the top of the Astronomy towers. “It’s midnight!”

“We’re supposed to reach our lesson at twelve sharp,” she reminded him. “We’re late.”

“Is that a surprise?” Casspian grinned at her, adjusting the green scarf that was wrapped around his neck.

They had been marked as ‘Tardy’ to almost every lesson. Professor Quirrell had actually flinched when Cas swept into the Defence Against the Darks Arts (DATDA, they called it) classroom, almost fifteen minutes after class had started. The room smelt of garlic and the man barely made his way through the passage of the textbook without stuttering. Cas fell asleep almost instantly and Zephyr used the lesson to study her textbook by herself.

She knew a useless teacher when she saw one. Was that fair on the guy? No, not really, but when she compared Cas’ performance against Professor Quirrell’s, it was obvious who was the better teacher. Though Casspian had called her a perfectionist, he was twice as hardworking as she was, whilst portraying a bored, lazy attitude for everyone else. He spent every free period in the library with her, pouring over their textbooks. When they weren't there, he was teaching her spells in the Forbidden Forest.

Quickly, the two of them rose to the top of every class, much to Dorian’s and Hermione’s chagrin.

For example, when they were asked to transform a matchstick into a needle in Transfiguration class, Casspian managed to do it on his first attempt (which did not come as a surprise for either of them) whilst Zephyr perfected it after half an hour. Dorian’s matchstick turned shiny but remained more matchstick-like than needle-like. Professor McGonagall was extremely pleased with the three of them and even awarded Cas and Zephyr five points each.

Once they reached the top of the tower, Cas set up their telescope after scanning the instruction manual as Zephyr laid out a green picnic mat for them to lie on. The lesson went by quickly, mostly filled with hushed jokes whispered to each other and quiet exclamations as they spotted a particularly bright star.

Zephyr dozed off halfway, head resting against Cas’s arm as he propped himself up using his elbows to look through the lenses. Once class ended, Cas shook her awake and she stumbled back down the stairs into bed.

The only other class she was looking forward to was Flying Lessons on Thursday with the Gryffindors.

Cas was grinning from ear to ear when he read the notice that was thumbtacked to the corkboard in the Slytherin Common Room.

“I cannot wait,” he exclaimed, bounding down the steps. “I’ve always been insanely good at academics—”

“Humble as always, Blackthorn,” Zephyr interrupted.

“—and I hope that physical activity will finally be challenging!” Cas ignored her.

“I hope you fall off your broomstick and break your legs,” she said sweetly.

“Har-har,” he deadpanned.

---

Cas and Zephyr were the first two to arrive at the training grounds, which were located opposite the Forbidden Forest. Their flying instructor, a woman named Madam Hooch, was placing broomsticks on the ground in two neat rows. She was short with grey hair and yellow, hawk-like eyes.

“Ah, the infamous Casspian Blackthorn,” she said, straightening up. “I assume you are Zephyr Sylvester-Lee?”

She inclined her head, “yeah.”

“Many Professors have complained that both of you are always late to lessons. Should I feel honoured that you arrived ten minutes early?” Madam Hooch asked, her stare softening a tiny bit.

Casspian shrugged as the rest of the Slytherins started to descend the hill towards them. It seemed like her friend was not feeling talkative.

“We shall have to wait for the Gryffindors,” Madam Hooch grumbled, shaking her head once the rest of their House had gathered..

A couple of minutes after the lesson had officially started, the Gryffindors marched into view, their red tie drawing their agitated teacher’s attention.

“Well, what are you all waiting for?” she barked, obviously annoyed by their tardiness. “Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up.”

Zephyr stood side-by-side with Casspian, with Harry Potter and Ron Weasly across from them respectively.

“‘ello, Zephyr,” Ron greeted cheerfully with a wary glance at Cas. Cas tilted his head at her, a questioning look on his face.

She wanted to roll her eyes. Was Ron still scared of the boy?

“Hey,” she replied.

“Harry, meet Zephyr Sylvester-Lee. Zeph’, meet Harry Potter,” Ron introduced, grinning.

Harry waved, “hello!”

“Cas, say hi,” she instructed her friend.

“Hi,” Cas muttered with a blank expression.

“Ignore him,” Zephyr said, sighing. “He’s grumpy.”

“Am not,” he grumbled.

“Are so.”

“Am not.”

“Are—”

“—stick out your right hand over your broom,” called Madam Hooch from the front, “and say ‘Up!’”

There was a chorus of ‘Up!’s. Harry’s broom shot up instantly. Ron’s broom did not even wobble. Hermione’s rolled over.

Casspian hovered his hand over the stick, his lips moved inaudibly, and his broom floated into his hand. Zephyr wanted to groan. Of course, he would be successful. Was there anything that Cas could not do? Zephyr attempted it as well. Her broom shuddered and lifted a couple of centimetres off the ground, before falling back down.

“Piece of shit,” she glared at the inanimate object.

“Do it with more authority,” Cas advised.

She gave him a blank look, “okay, Master Blackthorn.”

“Oh, my god, let that go already!” Cas groaned. They had stumbled across a housekeeping elf who squeeked in fear and called him ‘Master Blackthorn’. Zephyr had cackled at his red face for nearly an hour.

“Never.”

Three attempts later, her broomstick finally obeyed her commands and launched itself up.

“Why can’t we just pick them up?” She asked, shaking her head, somehow exhausted. “Are wizards that lazy?”

“Yes,” Cas said with a cat-like smile. “We are.”

“Like you know jack-shit about being a wizard, Blood-Traitor,” sneered Dorian from beside Zephyr.

Oh, no. That was not good.

“Cas,” Zephyr warned cautiously as the boy took a threatening step towards Dorian. “Ignore him.”

“Yes, Blackthorn, roll over and be a good dog. At least you’re loyal to one person, though she is a mudbloo—” Dorian sneered.

Before Zephyr could intervene, Casspian leapt by her, swinging his broom at Dorian. The stick caught the blond clean across the side of his head. Dorian went down like a stack of cards, blood pouring from a deep gash, his hair turning crimson. Neville dropped something as he flinched back.

Madam Hooch hurried over, crouching over Dorian.

“Oh, my god,” Zephyr gasped, grabbing Casspian’s arm. “That was not necessary!”

“He called you a–a,” Cas was shaking with anger, pupils blown. His muscles were tense beneath her grip.

“I know, I was there,” she said dryly, then softened her tone, “it's fine, Cas. I promise.”

“It’s not fine,” he seethed.

Madam Hooch glared at them, “it is not okay to attack someone no matter what. I agree that Dorian’s statement was unacceptable but your actions were worse. Casspian, go to Professor Snape and tell him about what you did. One hundred points from Slytherin.”

“One hundred? That’s not fair,” Zephyr protested indignantly.

“Fifty each is more than fair,” Madam Hooch said, meeting her gaze and daring her to complain. “No one is allowed to touch their brooms until I return. Anyone who does will get detention.”

Madam Hooch levitated Dorian up with a wave of her wand and beckoned Casspian to follow her back to the castle.

“Look!” Draco said suddenly, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. “It’s that stupid thing Longbottom’s gran sent him.”

A clear sphere glittered in the sun as Draco held it up.

Neville paled, “give that back.”

Everyone stopped talking to watch.

Draco's smile was filled with malice. “Get it yourself, Longbottom.”

“Give it here!” Harry yelled and Zephyr wondered if she was going to witness yet another fight.

Draco shot off on his broomstick, hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak.

“Come and get it, Potter!” Draco taunted from mid-air.

Harry grabbed his broom.

“No!” shouted Hermione. “Madam Hooch told us not to move–you’ll get us all into trouble.”

Harry ignored her and took off into the skies on his broom. Zephyr watched, arms folded across her chest, heart still pounding from what had happened. She was only part aware of what was happening in front of her. She was worried for her only friend.

To his credit, Harry was a natural on the stick. He soared up with controlled ease, sharply turning to face Draco, who seemed less confident now.

“Give it here,” Harry yelled from above them, “or I’ll knock you off that broom!”

“Oh, yeah?” Draco challenged with some hesitation.

Harry shot forward like an arrow, homing onto Malfoy who barely dodged the attack.

Ron cheered loudly, “get him, Harry!”

Hermione had her hands over her mouth, horrified, “this will end badly. I should get a Professor…”

Everyone ignored her.

“No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy,” Harry called.

Draco paled but mustered up enough courage to sneer, “catch it if you can, then!”

He threw the Remembrall high into the air and streaked towards the ground. It flew in an arch back down and Potter aimed his broom towards it, going after it at high speed. Harry caught it, barely a foot away from the ground and somehow curved his broom so he toppled gently onto the grass, the ball clutched safely in his hands.

That was pretty awesome, Zephyr had to admit. She was grinning at the furious expression on Draco’s face when—

“Harry Potter!”

Professor McGonagall was running toward them. Harry scrambled onto his feet, looking terrified.

“Never–in all my time at Hogwarts,” Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously, “how dare you–might have broken your nec —”

“It wasn’t his fault, Professor—”

“Be quiet, Miss Patil—”

“But Malfoy—”

“That’s enough, Mister Weasley. Potter, follow me, now,” Professor McGonagall’s tone left no room for argument.

Harry hung his head in shame and followed behind the woman meekly. Zephyr could hear Draco snickering.

“I told you it was a bad idea,” Hermione said shrilly. “I warned him—”

“Oh, shut up, Granger,” Ron snapped. “No one cares!”

Hermione’s face flushed red and she huffed, turning up her nose. Zephyr gawed at her inner cheek, her logical and impulsive sides battling each other. No one was watching her now. This was her chance to slip away. Finally, her worry for her friend won over and she darted back to the castle, ignoring Hermione’s calls to not leave before she landed herself into trouble as well.

Zephyr pulled open the side door and slipped into the warmth of Hogwart’s well-lit hallways. She quickly navigated her way to the Gargoyle Corridor on the second floor and found the corridor that lead to the headmaster’s office.

She was going to save Casspian even if she was expelled in the process. He had such bad luck already, he did not deserve to be kicked out because of her.

She reached Professor Dumbledor’s office and knocked on the wooden door trice, the hollow sound of knuckles on wood causing the hushed conversation on the other side to halt. There were footsteps, then the sound of a latch being pulled. The door swung open and she gazed up at her Headmaster, her lips parting as she started to explain the situation when he held up a pale, wrinkled hand.

Zephyr fell silent. She could see Casspian standing in the middle of the room with a nonchalant expression. Hills Harlot (whose name was actually Beckett), Dorian’s older brother, was pacing back and forth, an enraged look on his face.

“Come in, Zephyr. We were just talking,” Professor Dumbledor stepped aside.

It was a large, circular room made out of beige polished stone. The walls were covered with portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses, all of whom were snoozing in their frames. A number of curious silver instruments stood on tables, little puffs of smoke curling up from the equipment. There was also an enormous, claw-footed desk, and, sitting on a shelf behind it, a ratty wizard's hat that Zephyr realised was the Sorting Hat.

She rushed in, beelining straight over to Cas, pulling him into a tight hug. His arms wrapped around her shoulders, squeezing her.

“Are you okay?” Zephyr blurted out, pushing him away to survey the boy for any injuries.

Cas smiled, his grey eyes softening a fraction, “yes. Are you?”

Zephyr didn’t reply, spinning to face Professor Dumbledor. “Please don’t expel Cas. It’s my fault, not his. Punish me instead!”

“Mister Blackthorn is not getting expelled,” Professor Dumbledor smiled, eyes crinkling. “He will serve a month’s worth of detention and write an apology to Dorian. In turn, Mister Harlot will apologise to you and receive a week of detention with Cas.”

“That is a bit worse than being expelled,” Cas muttered from behind her. Zephyr elbowed him in the stomach and he let out a pained grunt, but was effectively silenced.

“Both of them in detention together? Surely that isn’t the best idea?” Zephyr attempted.

Hills glared at her, “I don’t see why Dorian should get into trouble. He was literally attacked. He’s in the infirmary.”

“I’m sorry for that,” Cas said, a mocking smile on his face. “He should have ended up in a grave.”

“Mister Blackthorn,” Professor Dumbledor admonished, bespectacled eyes flashing. “That is enough, the both of you. Severus will decide your punishment.”

Zephyr meekly raised her hand.

“Yes, child?”

“Could I join Cas in detention?” She asked, flashing her sweetest smile.

“What?” Cas exclaimed.

“Pardon?” Professor Dumbledor looked thoroughly amused.

“I played a part in this, after all. If we–Casspian and I–were not friends, he would not have stood up for me,” Zephyr explained and then winced when she realised how that sounded.

“Zeph’,” Casspian warned lowly.

“Please?” She begged. “I don’t want him to be alone in this.”

Professor Dumbledor looked thoughtful before nodding, “as you wish, Miss Sylvester. You three may go directly to Severus.”

They filed out of the room in silence. Zephyr walked beside Cas, the tension between the two boys nearly suffocating. Once they reached the staircase, Hills rounded onto them, anger in his eyes.

Cas instantly swept her behind him protectively, wand slipping out from his robes.

“Seriously?” Zephyr deadpanned. “Was a month’s-worth of detention not sufficient for you?”

“Zephyr, stay out of it,” Hills snapped.

Cas snarled, white-knuckling his wand, “don’t talk to her like that.”

Though he was quite a bit shorter than Hills, Zephyr just knew he would win if a fight broke out (again).

“I’m not scared of you, Hills,” Cas said quietly, stepping closer so that they were almost nose-to-nose. “It’s time someone put you in their place.”

“Oh, yeah?” Hills’ jaw flexed. “Fuckin’ twerps like you need to learn their place. You may be the son of two of the most powerful Dark Wizards alive, but it doesn’t mean you are.”

Cas laughed emotionlessly, “duel. Midnight. We’ll see how much of a ‘twerp’ I am.”

“Trophy room,” Hills confirmed and stalked away, Cas glowering at his back.

---

“Oh, stop it. You’re making me nervous and it’s stupid for me to be nervous against someone like Hills,” Cas grumbled, tucking his legs beneath him.

They sat on her bed that night, curtains drawn around them for privacy and a spell that Cas had cast to prevent any eavesdropping.

“One day your ego will be your downfall,” Zephyr teased.

“That day will not be today,” Cas promised and then perked up when he heard the bells chime at half-past-eleven. They crept from her room, both wearing muggling clothes (robes were tough to move in). The Slytherin Common Room was silent, so either Hills was late or he had left much earlier.

“Gods, why is it so cold here,” Zephyr complained in a hushed whisper, tightening her fluffy grey jacket around herself. “It’s cold enough to keep bodies fresh!”

“We’re next to the Potions lab and there are cadavers, so you might be right.”

She grimaced. Gross.

They headed down the hallway, their footsteps silent against the cold stone floors—that she could actually feel through her slippers. Zephyr led them up the stairs towards the third floor. Cas forced them to stop several times because he thought he heard someone approaching.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Wait!” He muttered. “Stop! Don’t you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“I—” he frowned. “Nevermind.”

They finally reached the Trophy Room. Hushed whispers were coming from inside. Cas and she exchanged identical puzzled looks. He motioned for her to enter after him and slipped his wand from his pocket.

“—late, maybe he’s chickened out,” a boy said quietly from inside. “Wait, do you hear—AH!”

Cas, to his credit, did not flinch, but Zephyr did, clutching the hem of his shirt. Casspian gave her an amused look, “it’s just Glasses, Ginger, Forgetful and Girl Genius.”

Indeed, standing in the middle of the room, looking as surprised as Zephyr felt, were Harry Potter (nicknamed ‘Glasses’), Ron Weasley (nicknamed ‘Ginger’), Neville Longbottom (Forgetful) and Hermione Granger (dubbed ‘Girl Genius’).

“Hi,” Zephyr offered.

“Did Malfoy send you?” Hissed Ron, hands curling into fists. “That slimy git!”

“Erm, no?” Zephyr tilted her head. Cas was busy staring Weasely down. “We’re here for a completely different reason. Why, were you expecting Draco?”

“And watch your tone, Weasel,” Cas warned lowly. “I don’t have a problem with you and let’s keep it that way.”

She elbowed him, shaking her head, “be nice. I’m sorry for him. We’re here to kick Hils’ ass. Well, Cas will do all the ass-kicking. I’m just here for moral support.”

There was a noise from next door–a scruffling of claws on the floor. Zephyr’s eyes widened.

“Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner.” It was Filch speaking to Missus Norris, his cat.

Harry waved madly at them to follow him. They hurried away from the door. Neville’s robes had barely whipped around the corner when they heard Filch enter the trophy room.

“They’re in here somewhere,” he muttered, “probably hiding.”

Zephyr gripped Cas’ arm so hard he winced, her heart pounding.

“This way!” Harry mouthed to them, his eyes wide with fear.

They began to creep down a long gallery full of suits of armour. They could hear Filch getting nearer. Neville suddenly let out a frightened squeak and broke into a run. Zephyr attempted to stop him but failed. Neville tripped in his panic and grabbed Ron by the waist. They both toppled into a suit of armour and crashed to the ground. The sound of metal hitting the ground could have woken the dead.

“Run!” Harry exclaimed. The four of them took off.

Cas groaned and tugged Zephyr against his chest, wand brandished. She gasped in surprise at his sudden action.

“For fucks’ sake, Neville. Zeph’, stay quiet,” he whispered directly into her ear, “Illusiont!”

Filch entered the room with his cat padding beside him. She could still see her friend behind her but apparently, the caretaker and his feline could not.

Slowly, they began in the direction where the four idiots had scrambled off to. Zephyr was holding her breath, partially because she was terrified that Filch had superhuman hearing and partly because Cas was pressed flush against her. They managed to sneak out of the room and headed down the hallway, stepping through a torn-down tapestry and into a secret passage. Cas flicked his wand, muttering a spell, causing the oily sensation around them to dissolve.

“I love secret passages,” he grinned at her, after several minutes of silence.

“I am never sneaking out with you again. We always get into trouble,” she grumbled half-heartedly.

He pulled a face at her, saying, “ain’t always my fault.”

“Yeah? How about that day when you fancied a midnight snack and we snuck into the kitchens and the cooking elves tried to toss us into the chicken broth?”

“You knocked a pan onto the floor and woke them up!” Cas argued, his eyes filled with mirth. “Oh, look, we’re at the Charms classroom.”

Zephyr furrowed her eyebrows. The Charms classroom was quite far from the Trophy room, but they reached the classroom really quickly. She committed the route to memory—it would come in handy when they are running late to class.

Inside the room, Harry was arguing with Peeves the poltergeist. Zephyr waved cheerfully at Ron.

Peeves cackled. “Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you’ll get caughty.”

“Not if you don’t give us away, Peeves, please,” Harry begged.

“Should tell Filch, I should,” said Peeves in a saintly voice, but his eyes glittered wickedly. “It’s for your own good, you know.”

“I’ve never tried to beat up a ghost,” Cas mused. “I wonder how I’d be able to." Peeves gave him side-eyes.

“Get out of the way,” Ron snapped, taking a swipe at Peeves which was a big mistake.

“Students out of bed!” Peeves bellowed, “students out of bed down the Charms corridor!”

They ducked under the poltergeist and ran down the corridor, Zephyr grabbing Casspian’s wrist because she feared that he would leave her behind. He managed to throw her a smug grin over his shoulders and dragged her around a corner. The six of them stumbled to a stop at the end of the corridor in front of a door, bumping into each other clumsily. Filch’s footsteps grew louder as he neared them.

Ron pushed at the door whilst Harry twisted the knob violently in a desperate attempt to open it.

The red-head wailed, “this is it! We’re done for! This is the end!”

“Oh, move over,” Hermione snapped before Cas could act.

She grabbed Harry’s wand, tapped the lock, and muttered, “Alohomora!”

The lock clicked and they scrambled into the room, Cas slamming the door behind him. Harry, Ron and Neville pressed their ears to the door, listening quietly. Zephyr and Cas were bent double, catching their breaths as silently as they could.

“Which way did they go, Peeves?” Filch’s muffled voice said. “Quick, tell me.”

“Say ‘please,” the ghost taunted.

”“Don’t mess with me, Peeves, now where did they go?”

“Shan’t say nothing if you don’t say please,” said Peeves in a singsong voice.

“All right,” Filch had more patience than Zephyr had. “Please.”

“Nothing! Ha-ha! Told you I wouldn’t say nothing if you didn’t say please! Ha-ha! Haaaaaa!”

Peeves whoosed away and Filch let out a string of curses that was definitely not appropriate for eleven-year-olds to hear.

“He thinks this door is locked,” Harry whispered. “I think we’ll be okay–get off, Neville!”

“What?” Neville asked.

All of them whipped around simultaneously.

“What the hell,” Ron gasped.

That was the moment Zephyr knew exactly why the forbidden corridor was forbidden. Towering over them was a large, three-headed dog, saliva dribbling from all three curled-back lips. Low growls erupted from its throat as it bared its sharp canines.

“Wow,” was the only thing she could say. Her mind had gone blank because this was not possible. Magic was one thing; meeting Cerberus was another. The latter was much less plausible.

Cas was the first one to react. He threw the door back open and physically shoved them out of the room. “Go! Why are you just standing there? Run, you dumbasses!”

They sprinted away, not caring about being found by Filch—who thankfully was not anywhere near. All of them were filled with so much adrenaline that they probably would have assaulted the groundskeeper. For some reason, she and Cas followed them to the Gryffindor Dormitory on the seventh floor. They had exchanged quick looks on the landing of the stairwell and came to a silent mutual agreement to stick with the Gryffindors.

“Where on earth have you all been?” The Gryffindor portrait asked, examining them. “And why are there two Slytherins with you?”

“Never mind that—pig snout, pig snout,” Harry said through pants, and the portrait swung forward.

They stumbled into the warmth of the Gryffindor common room—a circular room which was full of squashy armchairs, tables, and a bulletin board where several flyers were tacked on. The common room was decorated in several shades of red and was much more comfortable than Slytherin’s own common room. The Gryffindors all but collapsed into seats whilst Zephyr slumped against a pillar, trembling.

Cas immediately headed to her and gripped her arms, “are you okay?”

She gave him an ‘are-you-kidding-me?’ look. He pushed back his sweaty fringe, “stupid question, sorry. Do you want water?”

“I wanna know how the hell it exists,” she said, straightening up.

“What do they think they’re doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?” said Ron once he caught his breath. “If any dog needs exercise, that one does.”

“You don’t use your eyes, any of you, do you?” Hermione snapped. “Didn’t you see what it was standing on?”

“The floor?” Harry suggested. “I wasn’t looking at its feet, I was too busy with its heads.”

“It was standing on a trap door,” Casspian said, giving Hermione a look of approval. “Guarding something.”

Granger stood up abruptly, glaring at them. “I hope you’re pleased with yourselves. We could all have been killed—or worse, expelled. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to bed.”

“No, we don’t mind,” Ron said, dumbfounded by her hostility.

“You’d think we dragged her along, wouldn’t you?” Harry grumbled.

“We should go,” Zephyr said, tugging at Cas’ sleeve. “We had enough excitement for one day.”

“Yeah, okay,” the brunette replied and nodded at the three boys.

“Goodnight,” Harry called.

Zephyr waved as they left the room.

As they crept back to their dorm, she whispered, “I know you’re going to go back to investigate, but please, Cas, do it another day.”

“Okay,” he muttered back. “Only because you asked.”

Chapter 5: 1.4

The next morning, Cas dragged her out of bed ten minutes before she usually woke (Merlin's pants, she was running on three hours of sleep) and refused to tell her what it was all about but the mischievous grin on his face made her dread whatever was to come.

Hills came down from his dorm with neon green hair a couple of minutes later and red glitter would rain down on him every ten seconds, coming from god-knows-where.

“I will kill you,” Hills swore and spat out a mouthful of sparkles.

“It’s okay to express your true self,” Cas replied innocently.

Hills stormed off, laughter echoing after him. Zephyr gave Cas a high-five, giggling.

“That was good,” she admitted. “You got to teach me how to do that glitter rain.”

“Hm, maybe one day I will,” he grinned. “But definitely not before Halloween.”

“We should do something for Halloween,” she said, holding the door open for him.

Cas nodded, eyes twinkling, “up for trick or treating?”

“Absolutely,” Zephyr beamed back. “Hey, you know Hills and Dorian will try to get back at you.”

“Let them,” Casspian shrugged. “I’m ready for them.”

During breakfast, the mail arrived, after Professor Dumbledor’s reminder that students should not be wandering the corridors at night. Zephyr did not expect to get anything but an owl dropped a brown envelope onto her head and flew away before she could react. She plucked it up and cast a sideways glance at Cas who had several letters of his own. He seemed preoccupied so she decided against bothering him and tore the envelope open with shaky hands.

Inside was a note from her mother. Zephyr had not heard from her since she left for Hogwarts and she was beyond surprised that her mother actually wrote to her.

It read:

Dear Firefly ,

I’m sorry for not writing to you sooner. It is incredibly hard to find an owl. I managed to pull some strings and asked Missus Weasly to acquire one for me. His name is Herrington. Isn’t he just the cutest? He sits on my head and watches the telly with me.

But, enough about me. I hope you are enjoying your time at Hogwarts and made many new friends. I know you are trying your hardest there, but please remember to have fun.

I also thought that you deserved to know this: your father was spotted by the Ministry of Magic—

“Hey, Cas?” Zephyr called, suddenly feeling weak and she realised she was trembling. “What’s the Ministry of Magic?”

“Erm, think wizard government,” the boy replied without looking up from his letter.

—near some place called Diagon Alley. I’m cooperating with authorities in their investigation. Yes, this does mean that his case has been reopened. I do not want to get your hopes up, so try not to think about this. I’ll write to you once I get more updates. Stay safe.

Love,
Mom.

Zephyr reread the letter twice, unable to comprehend it. Her father, who had been missing for so many years, was alive? She began gawing at her inner cheek. She wanted to leave Hogwarts to be with her mother–how could she allow her mom to go through this alone?

“Who’s the letter from?” Cas asked, leaning over to peek.

Zephyr quickly folded it, surprised by the irritation that flared up within her and the boy withdrew, wincing, “sorry. That was rude of me to pry.”

“No, it’s not that,” she said, even though it was a lie. “It’s just hard to…yeah.”

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me. I was wrong for invading your privacy,” Casspian rubbed the back of his neck, looking truly ashamed of himself.

Zephyr sighed, “okay, fine, but you can’t tell anyone. Promise?” She held out her pinky to him.

At first, Cas stared at her hand with an unreadable expression then a smile split his face and he linked his finger with hers. “I swear on my bones.”

“Okay,” she said, hoping that telling him would not backfire against her. “So, it began on a warm summer’s night…”

Zephyr told Casspian about how her father had gone missing when she was six years old, how he had been supposed to pick her up from school, and when he had not shown up, her teacher had called her mother, who had then called the police about three hours later. Zephyr recounted the moment the severity of the situation sank in–she had been sitting on the stairs, watching her father’s boss’ legal team clear his study.

Then, she told Cas about the letter and watched him scan the paper with a thoughtful expression with bated breath. When he was finally done, he set the parchment down on the table with a gentleness that she never thought he could show.

“Do you want to search for your father?” Casspian asked softly, grey eyes earnest.

“Of course I do,” she said, her tone sharper than she meant it to be. “But what can I do? I’m twelve years of age, not powerful enough, and resourceless.”

“Zephyr, you are none of those things,” Cas said firmly, eyes meeting hers. He blinked, realising what he had said, “I mean, you’re not the last two, unless you lied about your birth year.”

She cracked a smile that did not reach her eyes. Cas sighed and leaned closer, “here’s what we’re going to do. We are going to hunt down every last bit of information and we will find your father, starting with where he was last seen.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow night,” he said, then teased lightly, “unless you’re too tired after last night.”

“Urgh, don’t make it sound dirty.”

“What ever do you mean?” Cas’ look of innocence did not mask his impish grin. “And to think you were so innocent, Firefly. What's up with that, anyway?”

“Ah,” Zephyr grimaced. “Don't laugh—Hey, I’m serious, I will toss my plate over your head if you do. So, when I was young, and I mean young, I visited my mom at her nightclub. They had this Halloween event going on involving glow-in-the-dark paint. I hadn't developed good motor skills yet, so I just slipped and fell into a puddle of neon orange paint.”

Cas’ face was red from the effort of holding in his laughter but he gave her a ‘go on’ gesture.

Zephyr pressed her lips together to keep her composure. Once she was sure she could continue, she took a deep breath and continued, “so, my ass was pretty much glowing like a flame and my kid-self was pretty thrilled. I ran around, my butt ablaze, and hence the nickname, Firefly.”

“Can I call you that?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Okay.”

“Do you have any nicknames?” Zephyr asked.

“Besides the usual ‘Bloodtraitor’? Not really.” Cas’ bitterness shone through his laugh.

“I’ll give you a nickname, then,” Zephyr promised eagerly. “I’ll find one for you.”

Cas let out a huff of amusement and turned his attention back to her letter, “we could, you know, sneak into the Ministry Of Magic and find out more stuff.”

“We could do what?” Zephyr exclaimed, staring at him like he was crazy, which wouldn’t be hard to believe. “That’s…that’s insane—”

“An insanely good plan?" He joked. "Okay, look, they won’t give us, two kids, information if we asked, neither will they tell your muggle mother everything. There’s an archive in the M.O.M that might have the information we need.”

“When will we have the time to do this?” Zephyr asked, excitement bubbling up within her despite how reckless Casspian’s idea was. “We have classes and such.”

“Ah, who cares about school? We can skip it for a couple of days and catch up easily. We’re like miles ahead of everyone in our year.”

“And how do propose we sneak out?”

“Do you know the Weasely Twins, Fred and George?”

“Yeah, I stayed with their family for a bit.”

“Well,” Cas said, “I talked to them a bit and they told me where to find a secret passage to sneak into Hogsmead, a small village near the school. There, we can make our way into Diagon Alley, get into central London, and find the M.O.M.”

“You really thought this through, haven’t you?” Zephyr raised her eyebrows.

He shrugged, “it’ll work.”

“And how do we break into a magical Government building?”

“Invisibility potions?”

“Wouldn’t there be, like, a charm that prevents people from doing that? Like a security measure or something.”

“You really like to poke holes in a guy’s plans,” Cas sighed. “Yes, that is a very high possibility. Or, we could…Genius! You absolute genius Zephyr Sylvester-Lee! Polyjuice potions! That would work!”

“A what-juice potion?” Zephyr asked, feeling incredibly lost.

“Erm, think shape-shifting. It lets us take the form of whoever we want. We just need to steal some of their hair for the potion. So, here’s the plan. We, erm, knock out some ministers, get their hair, transform into them, go into the building and get what we need.”

Zephyr closed her eyes briefly, resisting the urge to smack her forehead against the table, “and if we’re caught?”

“Look, do you want to find your dad or not?” Cas groaned, annoyed.

“Fine! Fine, let’s do it. When?”

“Tomorrow night. We can skip dinner,” Cas’ eyes were alight with unrestrained glee and mayhem.

That was the exact moment Zephyr was reminded of who he was. He was her best friend, yes, but he was also Casspian Blackthorn, the son of very dangerous wizards, and a seeker of chaos.

She nodded wordlessly.

That day, they barely made it through their lessons, fidgeting in their seats as the day dragged on. During lunch, they grabbed an apple each and booked it to the Potion’s room to gather supplies. Cas grabbed the ingredients and Zephyr dragged a copper cauldron and brewing equipment into his dorm room.

Cas locked the door with a wave of his wand and they settled down on the floor. She started a fire beneath the pot, a bucket of water beside her in case the room went up in flames. Zephyr was not intending to burn down her school, though Cas probably would not have cared if they did.

“Three measures of Fluxweed,” Cas read from a textbook he had stolen from the Restriction Section of the Library. “Make sure it says it was picked on a full moon.”

Zephyr grabbed a bottle containing a green plant that was labelled as ‘Fluxweed, harvested on a full moon’. “Three measures? Like, three leaves?”

“I think you grind it down and scoop three bits,” Cas was already prepping the other ingredients. “No, wait, three plants. Don’t grind them.”

Zephyr did as he said. Cas added two thick bundles of a shorter green plant (Knotgrass) and began to stir once, twice, thrice, and four times in a clockwise direction. Zephyr hovered over his shoulder anxiously. He made a vague gesture in the shape of the letter ‘Z’ with his wand over the pot.

“Okay, when the last bit of sand falls, continue the rest of the potion. I have to go to detention or Snape will know something’s wrong. Maybe I can gaslight him into thinking that one whole cauldron isn't missing.”

Zephyr nodded, “and what if your roommates come back?”

“Tell them to shut their holes. They're a good bunch so they won’t report you.”

“Okay,” she grinned up at him. “Have fun.”

“Scrubbing the walls with good ol’ Dorian? Definitely,” Cas grumbled and petted her on the head affectionately before leaving the room.

Zephyr eyed the timer before grabbing a plastic bag they had filled with little green Lacewing flies (gross) because the jar itself weighed too much. She took two big scoops and added them to her mortar and began grinding them down into a paste, a grimace on her face throughout. It smelt horrible, like, well, insects.

The girl scraped the mixture back into the bag and began crushing a bit of Bicorn Horn (white and curly) into a fine powder. Once the eighty minutes were up, she added four squirming leeches into the thick, brown liquid that resembled mud. Then, two measurements of Lacewings followed after them. Zephyr turned the fire down and counted to thirty before waving her wand over the potion, coping Cas’ wand motion from earlier. It bubbled lazily in the cauldron.

Nothing had exploded yet, so she took it as a sign that she was doing fine. The next step was to toss in three transparent, dried pieces of Boomslang Skin. She poured in one large spoonful of the Bicorn Horn powder. She adjusted the temperature again, allowing the fire to grow bigger for twenty seconds. Then, she waved her wand one last time and sat back, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand.

The potion was pretty much done for now. She would need to add more Lacewings after the mixture had finished brewing for eighteen hours. Sighing, she crawled into Cas’ bed, intending to rest for a couple of minutes.

---

“We have enough for about, give or take, four hours. We go in, we come out quickly. We have no time to stare at anything,” Cas warned as he handed her five vials of the mud-brown Polyjuice potion.

“Okay,” she said. They wore dark Muggle clothing and the quietest pair of sneakers they owned. They frankly looked ridiculous, but she could tell that the outfit added to Cas' fun so she went with it.

Slowly, they crept down the stairs into the Common Room. It was a bit past midnight, so as long as they were careful, they should be fine. Cas reached for the door handle and a soft chuckle made them freeze.

“I could report you to my brother,” Dorian’s voice rang out through the previously void room.

“For what?” Sneered Cas, instantly stepping in front of her. She rolled her eyes at his over-protective behaviour.

“Sneaking out after hours. But, guess what? I’m not going to,” Dorian stood. He had been sitting in the darkness, probably waiting for them.

“What do you want, Harlot?” Cas snapped. “Make it quick before I put you in the hospital again.”

“I was doing inventory during detention and I noticed the most curious thing, Bloodtraitor,” Dorian gave them a slow blink. “A cauldron and the ingredients to make a Polyjuice potion had gone missing.”

Zephyr cursed under her breath. Fuck, they were busted. Desperately, she glanced at Cas, whose face was pale.

“Report me, I don’t care, but leave Zephyr out of it. It was my idea.” Cas’ tone took on a note of alarm.

“I won’t report anyone,” Dorian flashed a smile that resembled a wolf bearing its teeth. “If you let me come with you.”

“What?” She and Casspian exclaimed at the same time.

“I eavesdropped on you two and heard about your plan to, what, break into the Ministry? I need some information about something—”

“Not mysterious at all,” Cas muttered.

“—And you could help me,” Dorian finished.

“Why should we?” Cas spat, more hostile than she’d ever seen him.

“I could also get you two expelled, alternatively,” Dorian shrugged, a smug look on his idiotic face.

“Fuck,” Cas groaned. “We really don’t have time to waste. Your daddy’s a minister, right?”

“Yes,” the blond said easily. “I know my way around the M.O.M.”

Cas sighed heavily, “fine. But one wrong move and I will kill you.”

“Likewise, Bloodtraitor.”

Her friend’s jaw clenched but he just beckoned to them to follow him out into the dim corridor.

“Third floor,” whispered Cas as they crept up the stairs.

Dorian was just as nimble as Casspian, much to Zephyr’s surprise. He even stopped them at the top of the stairs because he heard Filch approaching. Together, they managed to reach the one-eyed witch statue without any problem. Truthfully, the blond asshole was to thank for that. Where Cas was reckless, Dorian was meticulous and observant. He made sure that every turn they took was empty and without him, they would have been caught at least four times.

They scaled the statue and after a couple of minutes of quiet argument between the two boys, Dorian popped open the hunch of the ornament to reveal a secret passage.

Quickly, they dropped in, sliding down a stone slide, Cas coming in last and closing the hatch behind him.

“Lumos,” Dorian whispered and the tunnel was lit up by his wand’s soft glow. “What a disgusting place.”

The walls were made from packed dirt, roots hanging out from above them. It smelt of soil and wet grass. The passage was definitely unpleasant

“Sorry, your highness,” Cas snarked, leading the way.

“Where does this take us?” Dorian’s face was like ivory in the dim light–harsh, shadowed, and almost angelic.

He was exactly like Cas; made from sharp lines and even sharper tongues. The only differences were he was blond and not her friend.

Zephyr cleared her throat, “we won't have enough Polyjuice.”

“We can split it, three each, which gives us about one and a half hours in total,” Cas said. “Unless we leave him for dead?”

“Try it and I’ll get my father to toss you into prison with your parents.”

In seconds, Cas pressed Dorian to the wall, arm against his throat, “shut up. Shut the hell up, Harlot.”

“You first, Blackthorn.”

“How about both of you shut up? We’re here, so please refrain from alerting the whole damn village that we snuck out,” Zephyr pushed open a wooden board and entered a cellar of some sort.

There were shelves upon shelves of sweets of all kinds, many of which Zephyr had never seen before. There were hefty squares of nougat covered in cling film, pink chunks of coconut ice in coolers, and honey-coloured toffees in jars. Chocolate lined the walls, each separated into their kind with helpful labels. Cas picked one up and bit into a ‘Vanilla Coffee Bean’ flavoured milk chocolate. Dorian gave him a look.

“Fingerprints,” Dorian hissed. “Don’t leave behind your fingerprints, genius.”

Zephyr accepted a tube of chocolate cream from Casspian and grinned at the frustration on Dorian’s face. If he was going to tag along, he would have a terrible time with them. After a couple of minutes of oohing and ahhing at the sweets, Dorian physically dragged them out of Honeydukes and they made their way to the Leaky Cauldron. The streets were silent, which was to be expected. The few residents who were wandering about did not look their way, so they paid them the same courtesy and minded their own businesses.

The Leaky Cauldron was a small, dingy pub that was still open at that odd hour. Dorian entered the warmth of the building first. Zephyr sighed at the welcomed heat, rubbing her hands together.

“You kids shouldn't be wandering about at this time,” an old man called from behind the bar. “Is that Blackthorn’s son?”

Dorian gave Cas a warning glance before saying smoothly, “we’re just passing through.”

“Aren't you ought to be at Hogwarts?”

“Fuck,” Dorian muttered.

Cas glanced around, making sure the room was empty, before pulling out his wand, “Obliviate.”

The man blinked, sagging against the counter, holding his head in pain. The three of them scrambled past him and out through the other door that led to the Muggle world.

"What did you do?" Zephyr asked, panting.

"He erased his memory. That was too far, Blackthorn," Dorian said, pale.

Cas rolled his eyes, "and what would you have done, Harlot?"

"Something else."

"Come on," Zephyr interrupted.

London was just as void as Hogsmeade. The streets were lined with mostly low-rise and residential properties, with the occasional shop. A couple of buildings were covered in scaffolding, fabric covering blowing loose in the wind.

“How do we get to Whitehall?” Cas asked, glancing about. “Where are we? Harlot, don't you know how to get there?”

Dorian shrugged helplessly, “my dad took me and Hills via Floo powder. We’ve never gone the Muggle way.”

“Well, good thing I grew up in London, then,” Zephyr said, trying her best not to sound like she was boasting. Hah, she knew something Cas didn't! “Come on.”

They walked from Charing Cross Road to Great Scotland Yard, which she had estimated would have taken about ten minutes if the two boys hadn't stopped to stare at everything.

“What is that?” Dorian asked, astounded, peering through a window.

“You mean a massage chair? It massages you.”

“Why would you need that?” Dorian furrowed his pale eyebrows and wandered away to another shop.

“Is that a real television?” Cas gasped.

“Yes. Haven't you seen one?” Zephyr asked, pulling at the boy’s sleeves.

It was like herding sheep, except the sheep were two tall boys that were waiting for an excuse to kill one another.

“No,” Cas gave her a dimpled smile. “That's awesome. Can we get one?”

“Electronics don't work at Hogwarts,” Dorian said, looking equally disappointed. “Oh, what are those?”

“Record players,” Zephyr explained tiredly. “They play music.”

“But don't they have, like, easier ways?”

“We have radios. These are for like, decoration, I think.”

"What's a radio?"

She heaved a sigh, "a music and news player using frequencies."

“Wow. Muggles are so behind,” Dorian whistled.

They finally reached Great Scotland Yard, fifteen minutes later. Zephyr was contemplating the idea of just giving up and returning back to her warm and, most importantly, quiet room. Cas surveyed the area and gestured to them to get behind a stack of discarded cardboard boxes across the street from a red telephone box.

“What if no one comes?” Zephyr whispered.

“Someone will,” Cas promised, squeezing her hand.

“What if it's only one person?”

“Merlin’s beard, Zephyr,” Dorian said, shaking his head. “You're so pessimistic.”

“Don't call her that,” Cas glared at the blond.

Dorian frowned, saying, “call her what, pessimistic? It's not an insult, Bloodtraitor. She is being a downer!”

“Let’s just wait,” Zephyr cut in before they could tear out each other’s throats. She settled down on the ground, back against the wall and shut her eyes.

Chapter 6: 1.5

Notes:

hellloo !! i recently uploaded chapter one point five so if you haven't read it yet, go skim through it first. anyways, happy new years and enjoy this chapter.

About an hour later, just as they were about to give up, four men in dark suits approached the telephone. Cas nudged her and she sat up, alert.

“They might be random people passing by,” Dorian cautioned.

“Yeah, but what if they are wizards and we miss our chance to get into the Ministry?” Cas replied quietly.

“We can't use magic outside Hogwarts,” Dorian reminded Cas who was brandishing his wand.

“I can,” Casspian said. “Always could. The Trace never registered for me. I think my father broke it or something when I was very young.”

“That is so unfair,” Dorian grumbled. “Do what you need to, then.”

Cas nodded and pointed his wand at the group of adults. He exclaimed, “Stupify!”

The four men were knocked to the ground by a bright red light that momentarily made Zephyr blind. Once her vision cleared, she saw Dorian and Cas kneeling over the men.

How the hell was she going to keep up with not one, but two geniuses? She hurried over to them and accepted the three vials that Cas handed to her. They had changed colour, turning a toxic green instead.

“Who am I going to be?” Zephyr asked.

“Him,” Dorian pointed at a lanky man with square glasses and dark hair.

“And you two?”

Casspian was going to become a man with a crooked nose and Dorian was going to be affected by male pattern baldness.

They chugged a tube each and Zephyr grimaced at the taste–burnt toast. Then, she felt it. It was like her insides were boiling, lava bubbling up from her stomach. She stumbled against the wall, gasping as her fingers popped, growing longer and thicker. Her collarbone cracked and she was driven to her knees from the white-hot pain that accompanied the broadening of her shoulders.

Her face tickled, facial hair sprouting across her jaw and chin, her own locks shrinking and shortening until they looked like she had buzzed them.

Cas gripped her hand. He was whimpering in agony but somehow managed to find the strength to comfort her. Dorian was seated on the ground, allowing his own transformation to take over him. Once her pain had subsided to manageable levels, she cracked open her eyes. Cas (well, he definitely did not looklike Casspian anymore) was slumped against her shoulder. Further away, Dorian was stripping the men down to their underwear.

“Hey,” she shook him. He groaned. “Come on, we need to go.”

Dorian (it was so strange to see a man smirk the way that the blond did) hauled Cas up and together, they lugged the boy into the telephone box. The blond tossed a stack of clothes at Cas and told him to change quickly.

“Help me get them out of the way,” Dorian gestured to the four unconscious men on the ground.

Slowly, one by one, they dragged them to their hiding spot behind the boxes and tied their hands behind their backs with zip ties. They also confiscated their wands and pocketed three of them. They quickly changed into the suits their doppelgängers were wearing and jammed theirs into a bag that they hid in a bush. Then, they piled into the small telephone box where Cas was struggling to his feet. He waved her away when she reached over to help him up. Casspian swayed unsteadily before leaning heavily against one of the walls.

“Can't believe a Blackthorn is so weak,” Dorian said, snorting.

Zephyr frowned, “shut it, Harlot. We don't have time for this.”

“Whatever,” Dorian rolled his eyes and picked up the phone. Glancing over his shoulder to check if the coast was clear, he punched the numbers ‘62442’ into the rotating dial and stepped back.

A smooth, female voice said, “welcome to the Ministry Of Magic. Please state your name and business.”

Dorian removed a piece of paper from his coat pocket and squinted at it, “Charles Briggs, here to register for a shop license? These two are my co-workers, Thomas Whelan and Daniel Ciminetti.”

“Thank you,” said the voice. “Visitor, please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes.”

Click. Several heavy things clattered down into the chute where coins were usually returned. Dorian grabbed three silver square badges that had been dispensed to them.

Zephyr attached the one that said ‘Thomas Whelan, Worker’ and helped Cas with his ‘Daniel Ciminetti, Worker’ badge.

“Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the fat end of the Atrium.”

Zephyr gave Cas an alarmed look. How about their own wands? The boy seemed too nauseous to actually notice her glance.

The floor beneath them began to vibrate, like a machine coming to life, and they started to descend.

“It's a lift?” Cas asked softly. “Cool.” He looked a bit green.

“Don't you dare throw up on me,” Dorian made a disgusted noise. “I’ll flay you alive, Bloodtraitor.”

“Sick or not, I can still wipe the floor with your ass, Harlot.”

“Boys,” she said tiredly. “Behave. You're not that sick if you can argue with him, Cas. And Dorian, for the love of all things good, I will throw you off the Astronomy tower the next time we have a lesson there if you do not shut the fuck up.”

The two of them fell silent, but she could feel the air practically crackle with tension. Down and down they went in awkward silence.

Just as Zephyr began to lose her patience, golden light filtered in and the lift shuddered to a stop, causing the three of them to lose their balance and stumble into each other.

The door sprang open automatically and Cas straightened, eyes wide. Dorian pushed them out of the box.

They stood at the far end of a gigantic hall with dark oak floors that were polished to perfection. Arching above them like a sky was a blue ceiling with golden symbols that constantly changed, displaying the current time, the prices of foods and other information.

Lining the dark wooden walls were rows of fireplaces, flames dancing in them. People in suits popped out from the left side every few seconds, and people were queuing to jump into the fireplaces on the right.

In the middle of the room stood a grand fountain, encircled by enormous golden statues, roughly the size of small trees. In the middle was a smug-looking monument of a wizard, wand pointing straight up into the air. Beside the wizard was a witch, a centaur, a house-elf and a goblin. The creatures were all positioned to gaze up in awe at the two magical folks.

Water sprayed from the wands belonging to the witch and wizard, the arrowhead of the centaur, from the tip of the goblin’s hat and poured out from the house-elf’s ears.

“Holy crap,” Zephyr muttered.

“I have a grander fountain at home,” Dorian said haughtily, turning his nose up.

“No, you don't, Mister Charles Briggs,” Casspian reminded gleefully.

“Lead the way, Charles,” Zephyr piped up, already sensing that Dorian was trying to formulate an insult.

“Fine,” he spat, glaring heavily at them. “This way.”

He led them towards the large golden gates at the other end of the room. Zephyr barely managed to stay with the two boys, being shoved and jostled by the crowd of workers that were making their way to wherever they were going. She suddenly felt like she was doused with ice water and glanced at her friend. Cas was already slipping his own wand away and winked at her.

Though it was very early in the morning, it seemed like the Government never slept.

Cas spotted the security desk and dragged them out of the throng. A wizard with a long, grey beard set down his cup of what smelled like coffee, squinting at them.

“We’re here to register our business,” Dorian stated calmly, smiling at the man.

“Step over here,” the wizard said, looking bored and sleep-deprived.

Cas moved first, standing directly in front of the man. He was scanned using a long, golden rod, that was thin and bendy. Cas’ jaw muscle ticked, but he was through with no hiccups. Whatever he did earlier must have worked.

“Wand,” the security guard snapped, gesturing to what seemed like those weighing machines at supermarkets but with a golden dish instead of the usual metal one.

Cas handed over the wand that belonged to Daniel and it was dropped onto the brass equipment. A small slip of parchment was printed out and the wizard tore it off, prattling off what it said.

“Nine and a half inches, Unicorn tail-hair core, has been in use for seventeen years. Is that correct?”

Cas nodded firmly, “yes.”

The wizard impaled the paper onto a small brass spike and waved Dorian forward. He was similarly scanned and his stolen wand turned out to be made of Dragon heartstring, ten inches (which he immediately gloated at them about because it was longer than Cas’ wand) and had been in use for fifteen years.

Her own acquired wand was made of Unicorn tail-hair, eleven inches (she gave Dorian a smirk at that) and had been in use for sixteen years.

They were then practically told to get lost and they hurried away.

“Out of curiosity,” Zephyr said, causing the two boys to look over. “What are your real wands made of?”

“My father had a very talented wand-maker custom make mine. It's ten and a half inches, dragon heart-string core, Aspen wood.”

“Yew wood,” Cas said hesitantly. “Not sure of the core. It was passed down to me after my father was arrested. It’s part of my inheritance?”

“Of course you’d get Yew wood,” Dorian scoffed.

“I’m missing some context,” Zephyr said, furrowing her brow.

“Yew wood is dubbed the ‘evil’ wood. Most of the Dark Wizards own Yew wood wands,” Cas explained uncomfortably. “My parents both have one.”

“Not just that, his wand is made of the same wood You-Know-Who’s wand. And yours?” Dorian asked her.

Lie, lie, lie.

“Ten inches, phoenix-tail core, Elder wood,” she said and was met with identical looks of surprise. “What?”

“Elder wood?” Dorian asked. “It's like the cursed wood of wands. There's a saying about it. ‘Wand of elder, never prosper’.”

“Which is bullshit,” Cas added with a dark glare at Dorian. “There is no such thing as a cursed wand.”

“That is such a lie,” Dorian rolled his eyes. “There are so many tales of people with Elder wood wands that died unfortunate deaths.”

They reached the lifts and found one that was hidden behind a pillar that no one seemed to notice. It had been enchanted to be overlooked by those who did not know of its existence.

“And how do you know about it?” Cas asked Dorian.

He shrugged, “Father told me.”

Zephyr hit the call button and they got into an empty carriage.

The elevator went down one level and the same female voice from earlier announced, “level nine, Department of Mysteries.”

The golden grates opened with a clang and Cas stepped out first, without his usual flourish. They found themselves in a large hallway, with walls, ceilings and floors made out of smooth, black tiles. The roof was dome-shaped like a vast dark hole had opened up above their heads.

There was only one door at the far end of the room, equally as dreary as the rest of the room. Torches alight with blue flames lit the way towards the only exit. A short staircase led down to what Zephyr presumed was level ten.

“Lovely,” Cas stated sarcastically.

“Reminds you of home, Bloodtraitor?” Dorian jeered.

“Shut up,” the two of them replied.

Dorian huffed and folded his arms across his chest.

“We could try, like, an invisibility spell?” Cas suggested. “Three random men would not have known how to get here.”

“Would it work? Surely there must be countermeasures?” Zephyr frowned.

Cas said, pulling out his wand, “who knows? Disillusio!”

He waved his wand in a sort of oval shape, spiralling inwards. A beam of white light hit Zephyr. It felt like a wet tablecloth had been draped over her. She looked down, to see that she somehow blended into the wall. It wasn't as if she had disappeared, but more like she was insanely well camouflaged. Cas performed the spell on Dorian and then on himself. If Zephyr hadn't known he was there, she would have not seen him entirely.

“How many spells do you know?” Dorian asked, somehow sounding reluctantly impressed.

“Many,” Cas said arrogantly. She knew he was smirking. “These are easy.”

“Let's go,” Zephyr said urgently. “We’ve been here for an hour.”

They cracked open the wooden door and were led into an empty, circular room, identical to the room they were in before. Twelve doors lined the room, all with handles to open them, all black and indistinguishable from each other. Zephyr held her breath. A couple of seconds passed and no alarm went off.

Dorian said, from somewhere to her left, “now what?”

“You’re the man with the plan,” Zephyr protested. “You're supposed to know what to do.”

“I've never been here!” Dorian shot back.

“I wish that the door to the archive room would just open,” Cas said, frustrated.

There was a groan; a loud creak and a door swung open in front of her.

Cas sounded highly amused, “now would you look at that.”

Zephyr wasn't sure if they had entered the room (since she couldn't see them) and just decided to step through the doorway. She bumped into someone and, going by the yelp of surprise, the person she had knocked into was none other than the fearsome Blackthorn son.

“Where are we?” Zephyr asked for what felt like a hundredth time that night.

They stood in front of what seemed to be endless rows of shelves, stretching towards the sky. Each shelf was filled with crystal orbs, all glowing softly in the darkness.

“Don’t touch that,” Dorian said sharply as Cas reached for one.

“Hey, I can see you!” Zephyr realised. “The spell wore off.”

“Not just the Disillusionment Charm,” Dorian said, staring at his, his, hands. “We're back to normal.”

“How come I didn't feel a thing?” Zephyr asked.

Cas shrugged, running a hand through his now full head of curly hair, “dunno. Come on, let’s find what we’re looking for.”

Zephyr slid up next to her friend, bumping shoulders with him as they walked down the aisle, footsteps echoing through the room like little drum beats.

“We’re almost done,” Cas said to her, grinning wildly. “Told you I could do it.”

“Without me, you couldn't,” Dorian called from behind them. “Hey, here!”

They turned. The blond had stopped in front of a shelf (well, obviously, since everything in the room was shelves).

“What is it?” Cas squinted at the crystal ball Dorian was fixated on. “It's not showing for me.”

Dorian whispered, “it's…that’s Faustus, my little brother.”

“So Hills was the only one with a boring name?” Cas snorted. “Billy, Dorian, Faustus. Hills must have been hated by your parents.”

Dorian didn't laugh. He reached out, hands shaking, and caressed the sphere with a feather-light touch.

Then, he froze, like every muscle in his body locked up.

“Dorian?” Casspian asked tentatively. “Not funny, man.”

“Do you really think he’s playing with us?” Zephyr gave Cas an incredulous look as she went to stare into Dorian’s glassy, unseeing eyes. “Erm, hello?”

Cas planted his hands upon Dorian’s shoulders and tried to pull him away from the ball to no avail. It was as if Dorian’s hands had been superglued to the crystal. The blond boy began to whimper, tears pouring down his cheeks.

“Zeph’, help me with this,” Cas grunted, looping his arms under Dorian’s shoulders.

She grabbed Dorian around the waist and together, they tugged. The boy in their grasp began withering, nearly hitting Zephyr’s nose as he flailed around.

“Wake him!” Zephyr exclaimed.

“How?” Casspian yelled back, his grey eyes panicked.

Zephyr was struck with a brilliant idea. She backed off, pulled out her wand and shouted, “Aguamenti!”

A strong jet of water spurted from her wand and doused not only Dorian but poor Casspian who had not managed to get out of the way in time.

Dorian spluttered, stumbling back, gasping. He sank to the ground, shoulders shaking with uncontrollable sobs.

Cas swept the hair from his eyes and exchanged looks with Zephyr. Slowly, she approached the crying boy, kneeling beside him.

“What did you see?” Zephyr asked gently. She was shaken up, seeing the smug boy reduced into a mess. Was the orb things that bad?

“They–my parents; they killed Faustus,” Dorian hiccupped. “They said he had gone missing. They lied!”

“Oh,” Cas said dumbly. She shot him a glare. That was not helpful at all.

“We’ll figure something out, okay?” Zephyr said, clutching Dorian’s hand. “I promise.”

“Do-do you think that Hills knew?” Dorian’s blue eyes were bloodshot and unfocused–he was miles away from them; years away.

“When we make it out of here, you can ask him. Right now, we still have to get what Zephyr needs and leave.” Cas reached to offer a hand to the boy. “Up you get.”

They managed to coax the blond to his feet where he swayed, still crying, and trailed behind them as they continued down the row. Nothing really caught her eye. Shelf after shelf after shelf later, they had wandered around for nearly an hour and found absolutely null.

“What if it's not here?” Zephyr asked hopelessly. “What if this was a waste of time?”

“It wasn't and it won't be,” Cas assured her, squeezing her shoulder. “Oh, look! That's glowing brighter than the others.”

She glanced around, “which one?”

“Ah,” Cas said, frowning. “My turn to be pulled into a nightmare or whatever. Try not to drown me to get me out.”

He clambered up before she could warn him against it. She held her breath as he climbed to the fifth shelf without breaking anything, and he waved down at them.

“He’s mad,” Dorian said, shaking his head. His eyes were still red. “Absolutely bonkers.”

“That, he is,” she agreed, watching as the brown-haired boy grabbed a crystal ball. He went rigid, just like Dorian had done.

“Can your water reach him?” Dorian asked.

She pursed her lips, eyeing the distance, “if not, I can always throw my wand at him.”

“Or an orb,” Dorian supplied. “Kill him and be done with all Blackthorns.”

She didn't bother chiding him for being mean to Cas.

“What's up with you and your hatred for his family?” She asked. “Most people either fear or respect them. But not you, you loathe him.”

“Blackthorns and the Harlots go way back. We’re two of the last surviving pure-blooded families. We were meant to continue the legacy. My sister was to marry Casspian once he turned of age and ensure a great future for the generations to come. But, no, Casspian here had to destroy the plans that had been created years ago.”

“Marry?” Zephyr repeated incredulously. “He's not even a teenager yet! Why would you talk about marriage?”

“It doesn't matter anymore, not that a half-blood like you could understand,” Dorian sneered. “If you want to marry him so badly, go ahead.”

“I don't want to—I don't like him,” Zephyr stuttered, eyes wide. That was incredibly unexpected.

Dorian glanced up, “at least we know Blackthorn is sucked in. He hasn't tried to kill me yet.”

“Agitating him isn't a good idea,” she said softly. “He’s a nice person, beneath all of that.” She made a vague gesture at the boy.

Dorian groaned and said, “don't give me all that friendship crap. Great, the most dangerous student in our entire school likes you. Good for you! Now, stop rubbing it into everyone’s faces.”

“‘Rubbing it into everyone’s faces’?” She demanded. “I do not do that. Oh, my god. Are you…jealous?”

The blond spluttered, “jealous? Of who? You? A filthy, half-blooded traitor of—”

“—you like him,” Zephyr’s eyes went wide as realisation dawned on her.

“If you tell anyone, I will kill you, do you understand?” Dorian hissed, eyes flashing angrily. He backed her against the shelf, fist clenched.

Oh, dear. She cast a desperate glance upwards but Casspian hadn't moved an inch. She was on her own.

“I won't, I promise,” she said, pleading. “It's not my place to say, anyway.”

Dorian didn't seem convinced and seemed to be contemplating whether he should hit her or not.

She looked away, bracing for a punch to the face, and noticed the orb beside her head pulsing oh-so-slightly. It was barely noticeable, but once she caught sight of it, it began to glow brighter and brighter until it filled the area with its light.

“Whoa,” she whispered. “It’s calling me.”

“What?” Dorian pushed away from her. “What the hell are you on about?”

“The…” she broke off her sentence as her fingers skimmed the surface of the glass.

The room was plunged into darkness.

Chapter 7: 1.6

Zephyr stood in the middle of her old house in Singapore. It was a small bungalow, two stories high with a small, rectangular pool nestled in a yard out front. It seemed to be evening, or very early in the morning–the sky was a dark blue, the full moon hanging above storm clouds that were gathering overhead.

Her father was arguing with an Indian man who wore an impressive moustache.

“I can’t just leave my family. Zephyr is only seven years old!” Her father protested.

“Be reasonable, Zephaniah. Elenora and Zephyr will be safer if you left. You-Know-Who will kill your family if he finds you here,” pled the other man.

Her father clenched his jaw and turned towards the house, “she’ll grow up without a father.”

“She’ll grow up.”

It was obviously a…vision of the past, but it felt like she was right there, watching.

“Dad?” She whispered. “Don't listen to him.”

The two men took no notice of her desperate plea.

“Where could I go?” Her father sighed heavily, the lines on his face telling a story of all his hardships. His eyes were shadowed as he said, “where can I run where Volde–he can’t find me?”

“Truthfully, no place is far enough or remote enough. But anywhere is better than leading them straight to your family,” the other man said calmly, his expression sincere.

“I should not have meddled that day. I should have turned away and none of this would have happened,” her father’s jaw ticked.

The man planted a hand on his shoulder, “we cannot change the past. You saved a child and it was noble of you.”

“And in doing so, I doomed my family. I’ll leave by sunrise,” her father promised. “I need time to pack.”

“Make sure of that. I’ll take care of your daughter, enrol her into Hogwarts when she reaches of age,” the man said firmly.

The scene faded into darkness and her eyes snapped open. She shot up, heaving, feeling clammy and shaky.

“Whoa,” Cas grasped her arm. “It's okay.”

She was seated on the hard concrete floor in the middle of the row. The two boys knelt beside her, Dorian looking irritated whilst Casspian seemed concerned.

“You dropped like a bag of stones,” Dorian said coldly. “Thought you cracked your skull.”

“I would skin you if you allowed that to happen,” Cas said in the same tone before returning his gaze to her. His grey eyes softened slightly. “Was your vision terrible?”

“I think I have more questions than answers,” she admitted truthfully. “My father was on the run from You-Know-Who.”

Cas nodded, “but at least you know he left out of love.”

Zephyr broke eye contact and trained her gaze on the floor, feeling ashamed for some reason. She said, “I suppose so.”

“We should go now,” Dorian said, standing. “We've been here for too long.”

“You go then if you're so scared of being caught,” Cas taunted, malice in his eyes. “I promised to dig out everything for Zephyr and I intend to keep my promise.”

“You're ridiculous. If you want to get yourself caught, go ahead.” Dorian sneered. “I got what I needed so I don’t need you fools.”

“Oh, yeah?” Cas stepped closer threateningly. “Us ‘fools’ were the only reason why you managed to come in here.”

“Both of you, stop it,” Zephyr said sharply, a headache forming. “Cas, he just discovered a really shitty thing. Give him some slack. And Dorian, Cas is right. Without him, you wouldn't have made it. We really should go, Casspian. We can always come back another day.”

“Fine,” Cas grunted out, still glaring daggers at the blond boy. He reached down to haul her up before tucking his hand into the loosely hanging suit jacket he had stolen.

She pulled out a vial of Polyjuice potion, “c’mon.”

The three of them shot back their potions with varying looks of disgust on their faces. The transformation was just as bad as the first time–they were unable to move for five minutes due to being nauseous.

Once Cas had caught his breath, they snuck out of the room, ducking behind pillars and underneath staircases when magical policemen (called Aurors) passed by. Slowly and carefully, they made their way to a fireplace.

“Floo powder,” Cas explained as he stuck a hand into a small sack filled with fine green powder, “is a method we use to travel about quickly. All you need to do is toss some into a lit fireplace and walk in.”

Cas demonstrated it as he talked. The fire turned dark green and he stepped in, unfazed by the flames licking up his body. “Then, say the name of your destination clearly. Like this: Diagon Alley!”

He disappeared.

She glanced at Dorian who arched an eyebrow at her. Zephyr scowled and she entered the fireplace. She copied what Casspian had done and the world whirled around her in a green blur.

It was as if she was being sucked in by a large vacuum cleaner. Bile rose up in her throat–it was way worse than the nausea that she felt after consuming the Polyjuice Potion. Just as quickly as it started, she was spat right out onto a red carpeted floor. Cas hauled her out of the way just as Dorian stumbled and crashed down right where she had landed.

“Not fun,” Zephyr choked back a mouthful of bile. “Not fun at all!”

They were standing in someone’s darkened living room. Dorian staggered to a couch and sat down heavily.

“What time is it?” He asked, brushing off his pants.

“Half an hour till sunrise. We have to run back,” Cas said.
They made it back into their rooms just as the first rays of golden sun rays broke through the horizon. Zephyr headed straight for the showers, needing to get rid of the night’s adventures. She also hoped it would wake her up. She wondered how she’d survive classes that day with no sleep.

That day, Cas and she developed some sort of truce with Dorian–mainly because they could tattle on each other at any given moment. Over the next couple of weeks, the two of them left the blond boy alone. Dorian only made a snarky comment once, and it was more teasing than anything else.

They had more important things to deal with, anyways. Casspian had kept his promise about helping her with her father’s disappearance and had snuck in an armful of muggle and magical Newspaper for them to go through. It took a good part of a week to piece everything together, but they had the gist of it in the end.

Zephyr’s father had popped up a couple of times, all in the background of photos taken at sites of mysterious but tragic events. Three years ago, a school bus had been found at the corner of a road, all twenty children missing (and were still gone to this day) and her father had been lurking in the background. Five years ago, an explosion of green fire had taken out a small clinic. Her father had been a patient there that day.

The more they dug, the stranger it seemed. Zephyr had more questions than answers and declared that they should take a short rest from finding her father.

Besides that, classes had become tougher (well, tougher to everyone but her, Cas, Dorian and Hermione). They learnt a couple of new spells, like the levitating spell that she had been taught on the train by Cas. He didn’t even need to say the spell out loud, much to the delight of their teacher, Professor Flitwick.

Dorian was irritatingly good, almost as good as Casspian himself. They were neck-to-neck at everything. They had quickly risen to fame in their school, being known as the two geniuses. Zephyr didn’t mind being overshadowed by them–she was more comfortable in second place.

That wasn’t to say that she wasn’t good at her classes, though. She had earned her spot as the best in Astronomy, Herbology and the History of Magic. These subjects weren’t as flashy as Charms, Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts or Transfiguration, hence she wasn’t regarded as highly as the two boys were. It did not matter. She could not care less about prestige or reputation.

However, she had to admit that Casspian was awesome.

After the Charms class in which Casspian made not only his feather float up, but also levitated his books, a pen and her bag of salt-and-vinegar crisps that she had tried to eat in class, they headed to the Great Hall for the All Hallows’ Eve feast.

“No, we should not prank Snape. We’d be stuck in detention until our final year!” Zephyr chided.

Casspian swept his face out of his eyes (he kept putting off cutting it), and gave her a pleading look, “but it’s Halloween and it’ll be fun!”

“We would also die.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“We both know I’m not.”

They continued to bicker all the way to their usual seats, arguing over their Housemate’s heads from opposite sides of the long Slytherin table. Overhead, a thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter.

One crashed right into Casspian and somehow got entangled in his hair. He plucked the furry, writhing creature from his head, scowled at it and tossed it back into the air where it flapped away quickly. Zephyr giggled at the annoyance on his face.

As they sat down across from each other, food suddenly popped into existence on the golden plates that were laid out on the table. She jumped at the sudden appearance of a whole roasted chicken right in front of her.

Cas calmly examined his options before he picked up an entire plate of pumpkin pie and set it before himself.

“I love pie,” he explained like it was normal to consume eight slices by himself.

He was about to dig in when Professor Quirrel crashed through the large door and sprinted down the aisle between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables. His white turban was askew and his face was pale with terror.

All eyes were on him as he reached Professor Dumbledor’s chair, leant heavily on the table for support and gasped loud enough for everyone to hear, “trolls…in the dungeons…thought you ought to know.”

Then, he dropped like a stone into water.

The hall burst into a frenzy of yells and movements. People jumped up from their seats, trepidatiously glancing around like the troll was about to pop out from beneath their tables. Casspian calmly shovelled a scoop of pumpkin paste into his mouth and nodded approvingly at the taste.

Zephyr tried to mimic his sang-froid, but her knee bounced restlessly. She glanced at Dumbledor as he summoned several purple firecrackers with his wand. Slowly, the tumult died down.

“Prefects,” he rumbled, “lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!”

Hills immediately took charge, grinning pretentiously from ear to ear as he called, “follow me! Stay close and be quiet.”

They stood and Cas caught her eyes. He gave her a familiar, up-to-no-good smile, and she immediately knew what he wanted to do. They followed the crowd, holding hands so as to not lose each other, and then slipped into an empty classroom as they passed it.

Casspian glanced outside, darted out in a flash, and hauled someone in. Dorian shrugged Cas’ grip off him and glared at them.

“Must you two always search for trouble?” Dorian asked them, eyes flashing. “And must you rope me in?”

“We are the three best spell-casters in the school,” Cas said, shrugging off his robes so that he only wore his button-up, tie and pants. “If anyone was going to kill a troll, it’ll be us.” He looked around and then tossed the article of clothing over a chair.

“Trolls,” Zephyr corrected. “Quirrel said there were multiple trolls.”

“How the hell did they get in?” Dorian asked, stripping off his outermost wear as well. “Did Peeves let them in?”

“I highly doubt that,” Cas said and pulled out his wand.

“Do we even know where the trolls are?” The blond boy loosened his green-and-white striped tie.

“I’m sure we’ll figure it out. I reckon that they will be hard to miss if they go stomping by,” Cas freed his wand from his pockets and shook out his casting hand. “C’mon, whilst the night is still young.”

The three of them snuck out of the room, stealthily making their way down the now-empty corridor. Everyone was probably safely lounging in their respective Common Rooms because they had survival instincts that her friend seemed to lack. Cas led their group around a corner with Zephyr bringing up the rear. He froze mid-step and held up a clenched fist to tell them to stop. She could smell it even before she caught sight of the creature.

She held her breath as a large, lumbering shadow approached them. It was probably five metres tall, three metres wide at the shoulders and had legs the width of pillars. It also seemed to be holding a huge plank of wood or perhaps an uprooted tree.

Zephyr made a quiet, strangled whimper. Cas threw her a reassuring look but the excited gleam in his eyes just made her more nervous.

Each step the troll took shook the ground beneath their feet and made a suit of armour on display rattle loudly. It finally came into view. Zephyr watched as the green creature sweep its gaze across the hallway and spotted them. Its elf-like ears twitched in their direction.

“Scatter!” Cas exclaimed and leapt to the side as the troll brought its club down with a mighty roar.

The problem was that all three of them had been huddled against a wall. So when Cas had instructed them to go in separate ways, they all dove in the same direction. Now, they were in the exact same position they started off in but just sprawled helplessly across the smooth floor.

Dorian was cursing up a storm as he rolled to his feet. Cas leapt up just as quickly, wand brandished as the troll swung at them again. She saw it descend upon her in slow motion, frozen in an embarrassing mixture of horror and fear.

“!” Casspian shouted from across the hallway.

Zephyr watched, jaw-slacked, as the large wooden bat was ripped from the troll’s grip. It stared at its empty hand, puzzled.

“Idiot!” Dorian cried as the club flew towards Casspian who released his grave mistake a second too slow. “Confrigo!”

The weapon burst into flame. Now, a large, burning tree was heading straight for Cas. Even worse. He began running, but the flaming wood just switched course to follow after the boy like a faithful boomerang.

Zephyr yelled out, “Reducio!”

The ablaze log shrunk down and became a twig the size of her wand (but was still on fire). It smacked right into Cas’ chest, making him yelp in pain. But, hey, at least he wasn’t crushed to death.

However, since both boys had dashed away and she had not, the troll towered over her. It was still dangerous even when it was empty-handed. It raised its foot, the tips of its toes oddly sharp, and began to step down on her like she was a bug…

“Petrificus Totalus,” Cas shouted from the sidelines, voice echoing down the corridor.

The troll froze, unblinking and unmoving. Thank gods it had good balance because it still could have crushed her if it fell over.

She scrambled towards the two boys who lugged her to their sides as soon as she was in reach, and they stood there, chests heaving, staring in silence at the petrified troll.

Cas was the first one who spoke. He brushed back sweaty brown locks and beamed happily at them, “we did quite good, don’t you think?”

They blinked at him. He stared back.

“I’m going to kill you,” Dorian declared, stepping forward.

“Not if I get to him first,” Zephyr said, eyes narrowed.

Casspian held out his palms and said quickly before they could converge on him, “whoa, wait. I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would turn out like this.”

“You do realise that you posed a larger threat than the troll?” The blond seethed. “That stupid Accio nearly killed you?”

“And setting fire to it wasn’t dangerous whatsoever?” Cas shot back.

Zephyr cleared her throat. “At least I kept a relatively clear head.”

“Thank you for saving my life again,” Casspian turned to her, his dazzling, ‘please-don’t-kill-me’ smile on full blast.

“Yeah. Thank you,” Dorian said begrudgingly. “So what do we do about that?” He jabbed his thumb at the frozen troll.

“Erm,” Cas pursed his lips and then turned to the blond with a wicket glint in his eyes. “You like collecting statues, don’t you, Harlot? Surely you don’t have this at home?”

“Oh, fuck off, Blackthorn.”

There was a patter of footsteps from behind them, and they whirled around, ready for round two, but it was just, Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape and Professor Quirrel.

There was a short moment of stillness as the adults took in their handy work, from the cracked tiles where the club had smashed into to the large and rather hideous ornament gracing the room.

All three of them were wearing their best and most innocent smiles. They had also hidden their wands behind their backs for some reason.

“What,” Professor McGonagall began, tight-lipped, “on earth is going on? First, it was Mister Potter and his friends, and now you three!”

Zephyr and Cas exchanged looks. It seemed that Harry had encountered the other troll. She hoped that there were only two roaming the school.

The brunette boy took a deep breath and said, “it was my fault, I’m sorry. I was sure I could deal with it and I dragged them along as backup, just in case things went south.”

She and Dorian let out identical groans. Cas had unknowingly thrown them under the bus as well as himself.

“And they agreed to follow you?” Snape’s eyebrows inched up his forehead.

Cas blinked, faltering when he realised his error, “err, no?”

“Just shut your mouth, Blackthorn,” Dorian hissed.

Casspian’s jaw closed with a clack of teeth and he began to examine the floor with great interest.

“I did come along willingly,” Zephyr said, ever loyal to Casspian. “Dorian was forc—”

“I knew the risks and came with them,” Dorian said calmly. “Neither of us was made to do anything. Casspian did not force us to follow him. We are of equal blame.”

The two of them stared at the blond with wide eyes. He gazed back at them with a steely expression. Zephyr knew that he made up his mind and that he was going down with them. Appreciation flared up in her chest. If Dorian blamed Cas, not only would Cas accept the accusation, but also get punished harshly for it.

He had saved Cas.

That was the moment she forgave Dorian for all his bullying and harsh words. She smiled at him and he nodded back, somehow understanding what she meant.

“Foolish,” Professor McGonagall said sternly. “I expected you three to know better, given your near-perfect grades in every class.”

They hung their heads, more out of politeness than anything else. Cas’ shoulders were shakily slightly.

“For that, five points from Slytherin each,” McGonagall said.

They kept their mouths shut. How many points have Casspian cost their house in the short handful of months they have been here? There should be a prize for that because it was impressive.

“I will not insult you by saying that this was done by luck,” she said and their heads snapped up. “I am glad that it was you three who encountered the mountain troll. I know you have ample ability with spells and handled it just fine. However, it was still reckless and a serious lack of judgement. I shall award each of you five points for your swift response to the threat. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of
this. You may go to the infirmary.”

Cas did not have to be told twice. He grabbed them and pulled them away. They strolled down the hall in silence. Once they were out of the hearing range of the three teachers, Cas exploded into laughter.

Dorian joined in, clutching his stomach.

Zephyr just sighed at her slightly deranged friends and continued on, their giggles trailing after her.

Madam Pomfrey tended to their scrapes quickly while gently nagging at them. Thankfully, the two boys were (relatively) polite, besides the occasional whine of pain. It was hilarious to see two of the toughest students she knew be reduced into pouting children.

Zephyr also knew with absolute certainty that Madam Pomfrey had gotten two die-hard protectors on her side now.

Her wrist was bandaged up (though it was more for precaution than anything else because Madam Pomfrey had fully healed her up with magic).

Cas quickly begged her to teach him basic healing spells (which he predictably mastered in ten minutes) and he was then offered a part-time job as a medic. He refused but was gloating about it all the way back to their Common Room.

Chapter 8: 1.7

None of them had any leads on her father as November rolled in. However, the three of them became friends, although Dorian and Cas often still argued, but neither threw punches or spells at each other which Zephyr considered a win.

The tension between Slytherin and Gryffindor grew higher as the Quidditch match approached. Cas, Dorian and Zephyr didn't care about the whole rivalry nor had any school spirit, but the excitement had also started to infect them.

When game day arrived, they trudged to the stands and sat together near the back of their house. Cas produced three corn dogs from his robe and passed them out.

It was surprisingly crispy and warm, despite where it was stored. Zephyr had no idea how Cas managed to hide a whole pantry in his pockets, but when the corn dogs were gone, he handed out freshly buttered popcorn and canned soda. The snacks kept coming in a seemingly never-ending wave.

Dorian didn't seem to care much–he was quite satisfied with having food at all. Under the sun's glare, he wore shades and was leaning forward, arms braced on his knees as he walked Zephyr through the rules of the game, Cas occasionally piping in.

Soon enough, the players walked onto the field. The students exploded into cheers and Cas yawned obnoxiously loud, receiving several glares from the older Slytherin students.

Madam Hooch was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the field waiting for the two teams, her broom in her hand.

The players mounted their brooms (were they considered vehicles?) and waited. The stand went silent, anticipation building up.

Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle. Fifteen brooms rose up, high, high into the air. They were off. Cheers erupted, shaking the benches beneath her. Dorian crunched on a Dorito chip indifferently.

“And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor—what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too —”

“Jordan!”

“Sorry, Professor.”

The Weasley twins’ friend, Lee Jordan, was doing the commentary for the match, closely watched by Professor McGonagall. Cas wanted to be the commentator for the next match, must to the horror of both the teachers and Zephyr.

“And she’s really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood’s, last year only a reserve—back to Johnson and—no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes—Flint flying like an eagle up there—he’s going to sc–no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle…”

“That’s Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and—ouch, that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger. Quaffle taken by the Slytherins…that’s Hills Harlot speeding off toward the goalposts, but he’s blocked by a second Bludger, sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can’t tell which, nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes. She’s really flying…dodges a speeding Bludger—the goalposts are ahead…come on, now, Angelina. Keeper Bletchley dives—misses—GRYFFINDOR SCORE!”

The field exploded into cheers, every house celebrating Slytherin’s loss. Slytherins howled and cursed. The three of them just exchanged amused looks. Zephyr stood to get a better view, leaning back on the railing, cold wind whipped her hair across her face. She swiped it away.

She zoned out for a bit. It was honestly slightly boring. She wasn't sure which ball to focus on. Everyone was zipping around way too fast.

“Slytherin in possession,” Lee Jordan was saying, “Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the — wait a moment — was that the Snitch?”

A murmur ran through the crowd as Adrian Pucey dropped the Quaffle, too busy looking over his shoulder at the flash of gold that had passed his left ear.

“Watch Harry,” Dorian said to her as he joined her. “He’ll get the snitch.”

She blinked up at the blond, “how do you know?”

He smiled and shrugged, before folding his arms across his chest.

“He knows because I told him that,” Cas called childishly. “And I’m always right.”

Zephyr rolled her eyes at him and he pouted. They were right, though. Harry dived downward after the streak of gold. Slytherin Seeker Terence Higgs had seen it, too. Neck and neck they hurtled toward the Snitch—all the Chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to be doing as they hung in midair to watch.

Harry was faster than Higgsand he sped towards the ball but…wham!

A roar of rage echoed from the Gryffindors as Hills Harlot had blocked Harry on purpose, and Harry’s broom spun off course, Harry holding on for dear life.

“Foul!” screamed the Gryffindors.

“Good job!” Called Slytherins, grinning. “Serves him right!”

Gryffindor was given a free shot, much to the outrage of her housemates. Dorian went silent, eyes fixed on the ground. Cas nudged him and offered a sour candy.

“So–after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating—”

Dorian flinched.

“Jordan!” growled Professor McGonagall.

“I mean, after that open and revolting foul—”

“Jordan, I’m warning you—”

“All right, all right. Harlot nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I’m sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinnet, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession.”

“You're not your brother,” Zephyr whispered to him.

Dorian weakly smiled at her, “I know. Thank you.”

“What’s happening?” Cas asked, frowning. “What's going on with Harry’s broom?”

“What?” Zephyr glanced up.

“Oh, my god.” Dorian said.

The broom Harry was on was bucking like a mechanical bull in a country bar.

“Is that supposed to happen?” Zephyr asked, squinting her eyes.

Dorian shook his head, “no.”

“Slytherin in possession. Hills with the Quaffle. Passes to Spinnet—passes Bell…hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his nose—only joking, Professor—Slytherins score—oh no . . .”

Cheers erupted from their house but Cas and Dorian didn't react. The earlier cast the Supersensory Charm so that they could see Harry better. It definitely looked like he was having trouble controlling his broom.

It was carrying him higher and further from the game. Then, like an alligator had taken hold of the broom, Harry began spinning over and over in a death roll.

“Look at Snape,” Dorian muttered.

Snape was standing a couple of rows down, his wand out. He was fixated on the spinning boy.

“Do you think he's doing something?” Zephyr whispered but Cas was already halfway down the stands, shoving past people and stepping on hands. He slid up next to Snape casually.

“What is he doing?”

Dorian shrugged, “no clue.”

Couple minutes later he returned with a frown on his face. “It isn't Snape. Snape’s trying to stop whatever is going on. He’s muttering a counter curse.”

Zephyr glanced around and her eyes widened a bit. A couple of rows above Snape was Professor Quirrell, standing stock still. Unnaturally still.

“My turn,” Zephyr said, smiling. She had a feeling.

She began making her way down carefully, unlike her best friend. She approached the turban professor, who reeked of garlic. She wasn't a spell master like her friends but she knew enough. Hermione seemed to have the same idea as Cas and ran towards Snape. Zephyr didn't stop her. She had a theory and was going to test it out.

Flames began licking up Snape’s cape. It took about thirty seconds for Snape to realise and begin panicking, but Harry kept spinning.

Zephyr’s turn. “Aguamenti,” she whispered as the chaos unfolded around her.

Water sprayed like a pressure washer onto Professor Quirrell. He yelped and Harry’s broom stabilised.

Professor Quirrell turned around and Zephyr gave him a sweet smile.

“I got you,” she said, even though warning bells were going off in her head. “I don't know what you're doing or who you are, but I got you.”

And Professor Quirrell’s innocent facade dropped. She saw the dangerous, malicious glint in his eyes. His dark smile. A shiver went down her spine.

Harry was speeding toward the ground when the crowd saw him clap his hand to his mouth as though he was about to be sick—he hit the field on all fours—coughed—and something gold fell into his hand.

“I’ve got the Snitch!” he shouted, waving it above his head, and the game ended in complete confusion.

Booing and groans filled the air as the Slytherin began complaining.

Zephyr and her professor did not break eye contact. It was like staring down death itself. She felt frozen in fear and very desperately wished her friends were by her side right now. The thought of Casspian was enough to break the spell on her. She felt his invisible hold break and began running back up, tripping and stumbling all the way.

“Whoa,” Cas caught her before she fell to her face. She was shaking.

“We need to go somewhere safe, now,” Zephyr said.

Dorian blinked, “what—?”

“Please!”

Cas heard the desperation in her tone and grabbed her hand, “C’mon.”

They ended up back in Cas’ room. She sat cross-legged on his bed and collected her thoughts.

“This sounds stupid,” she said. “But hear me out.”

She slowly relayed everything, from Hermione’s spell to how Quirrell was the one making Harry’s broom misbehave. She recounted how she felt when he looked at her, the chill; overwhelming dread.

“Something’s wrong with him,” Zephyr said, shivering. “I feel it.”

“But he looks so…flimsy. I could snap him in half,” Dorian said.

“He isn’t saying you're wrong,” Cas quickly added, shooting a glare at the blond boy. “But Quirrell is, like, weak.”

“He fainted at the sight of a mountain troll,” Dorian said in a deadpan voice.

Zephyr clenched her jaw, annoyance flaring up. “I swear I’m not lying.”

“I believe you,” Cas said, sighing. “So, what's the plan?”

“We can't focus on so many things at once,” Dorian said. “It's either this or your father or my brother or school work.”

“Who said we can't?” Cas scowled. “Shut up.”

Dorian rolled his eyes, “tell your attack dog to lay down. I’m not being an ass, I’m just being real.”

“Let's push this one aside for a while. Focus on the more important things,” Zephyr decided. “Where are we on my dad?”

Dorian had cornered his brother to ask him about what happened to his younger brother. After some aggressive convincing from both Dorian and Cas, Hills gave in and told them that Faustus had gone missing a while back.

Hills wasn't sure where he went but his parents had told him to not worry about it. Dorian proceeded to beat his older brother up.

Next, they headed out of the castle nearly every week to search the street for her dad. They were always slightly too late. He was always gone before they could track him down.

Zephyr was losing hope and so was Dorian.

Surprisingly, Cas was the beacon of light for all of them. He kept them going, using kindness for Zephyr and harsh love for Dorian. He pushed and pushed them to continue searching.

Once snow began to fall, they put off their attempt to find Zephyr’s father. This meant they could focus more on Quirrell and Dorian’s brother.

They snuck into the place where the three-headed dog was and Cas put it to sleep so they could search the area. They found nothing much.

Dorian couldn't get anything else out of his brother either. The whole school was getting excited for the holidays and slowly, they began cheering up as well. The campus grew colder each day and more pranks were being pulled as schoolwork began to subside.

The Great Hall had roaring fires but the draughty corridors had become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms. Worst of all were Professor Snape’s classes down in the dungeons, where their breath rose in a mist before them and they kept as close as possible to their hot cauldrons.

“I do feel so sorry,” said Draco Malfoy, one Potions class, “for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they’re not wanted at home.”

It was obviously directed at Harry but Cas and Dorian scowled all the same. They both couldn't return home as well, so Zephyr sent an owl to her mom to ask if they could come over. Her mom agreed and she was going to break the news to them later.

Once the lesson ended, they made their way to the Grand Hall. Christmas trees and mistletoe decorated it, along with gently flickering lights strung up.

“We should sign the form to stay here soon,” Dorian said, sighing. He reached for a caramel pudding. “Otherwise we’ll have nowhere to go.”

“About that,” Zephyr began, grinning. She pulled out a letter and handed it to them. “My mom said you can stay with me. Both of you.”

Cas’ eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. Er, my apartment is cramped so you’ll have to sleep on a bag on the floor so, you know, technical difficulties,” Zephyr grimaced.

“Thank you,” Dorian’s face shone with happiness. “Thank you, thank you!”

“Don't sweat it,” Zephyr shrugged it off. “Make sure you pack early.”

Chapter 9: 1.8

Notes:

i have absolutely no clue about how london works. i'm from asia and i am way too tired from school plus work to do extensive research on the way trains operate (back when the story is set and how it is now). if the logic makes no sense, I apologise in advance. No offence meant to anyone lol.

They woke up excited the next day. They got a quick breakfast, said goodbye to Ron and his friends and made it to the Hogwarts express.

Zephyr had changed out of her uniform, settling down in her comfy graphic tee and jeans, something she had not worn in a long time.

The two boys wore rather formal outfits, button up white shirts and dress pants. They looked overdressed, but they insisted on making a good impression on her mother.

“She's unlikely to be awake,” she warned. “It's pointless to dress up. She works night shifts so she sleeps during the day.”

“It's fine,” Dorian said, running a hand through his hair self-consciously. “I should get a haircut.”

Dorian’s hair was touching his eyebrows, making him look sort of raggy. He still acted like a rich kid, but he didn't look the part anymore.

Caspian shrugged and turned to her, “mine’s fine.”

His hair was still short, since Zephyr had gone at it with a pair of safety scissors a while back. She was pretty proud of her work. Dorian didn't trust her enough to do his hair.

The train ride was uneventful. They slept most of the way and played card games in between their naps.

Finally, they pulled up at Kings Cross Station several hours later. They collected their bags and headed into the muggle train station.

The two boys were fascinated with everything. They thought human trains were so primitive without magic.

She ignored them as they entered the city. They had not been in such a big muggle city before. It was like travelling with puppies that wanted to stick their heads out of the car window.

Soon, they alighted a couple of blocks away from her house and began walking. The street wasn't busy, since most people were at work.

“Whoa, it's so…plain!” Dorian whispered, amazed at the beige bricks and concrete jungle around them. Snow made everything colourless and boring.

No one had decorated their houses because no one living in her area had the extra expense to.

Cas gave him a look, “behave.”

“I am!”

“It's rude!”

“Shut up,” she groaned. “Can I return you two back to Hogwarts?”

“Nope!” They grinned at her.

They reached her apartment. Zephyr stopped for a second to observe the place. It hadn't changed much since. It was a bit more dirty and run-down, but the familiar red-bricks still stood and the stupid snowman painting was still there. She had helped paint the buttons on when she was five for a community event.

She began up the stairs on the side of the building. The boys followed behind her, carrying their suitcases.

She slipped her key into the door of apartment number #02-04 and opened the door to her house for the first time in months.

Zephyr was greeted by her hallway. It was dark, as usual. She picked up the letters on the floor and placed them onto the table. It had a new blue vase on it.

“Leave your shoes at the door,” she said and headed to the kitchen.

Her mother's room door was shut, so she assumed she was asleep.

“It's cosy,” Dorian said, grinning. “Awh, baby Zephyr!”

She rolled her eyes, “okay, stay away from the pictures on the wall. My room’s over there.” She pointed at the darkened entrance across from her mother's room.

The two boys headed into it to drop off their bags. Zephyr began rummaging through her cabinets for food. All her mother had was cup noodles, which was normal but kind of strange since they had feasts every day at school.

“Well, lunch will be disappointing,” she said, producing the cups. “Chicken or tom yum?”

“What's tom yum?” Dorian asked, setting down across from her.

“Er, a sort of sour and spicy soup?” She shrugged helplessly. “Hard to explain. It's good.”

“Ooh, spice?” Cas grinned. “Sign me up.”

The upside of them growing up in magic is that everything muggle fascinated them. They thought cup noodles were incredible.

“I’m going to bring so many back,” Cas said, downing his second cup. “I love it.”

Zephyr blinked, “it's artificial flavouring and really unhealthy.”

“It tastes amazing,” Dorian said, equally as pleased.

“Okay…” Zephyr said. “It's cheap so why not.”

The kitchen was a mess by then. None of them had magic to clean it up, much to the irritation of her friends.

Midway through wiping down the counter, her mom emerged from her room.

“You could have cooked something better,” her mom said, surveying the mess with a disapproving look. “The store’s around the corner.”

“Thank you so much for your hospitality, Ms Sylvester!” Cas immediately said. He had cranked on his charm to the highest level and was all smiles and grins.

Dorian set down the cutlery he had been washing and smiled as well, “these noodles are amazing.”

“Glad to hear it. How was getting home from Hogwarts?”

The two boys' eyes widened.

Zephyr said, “yes, she knows. It was fine. The metro wasn't too crowded. Coping without magic is hard.”

“Well,” her mother checked her watch, “I need to get going. Order a pizza or whatever you want. Money’s on the table. Remember to lock the doors and windows.”

Her mom hugged her tightly and kissed the top of her head, “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, mom,” she whispered.

The boys said their goodbyes as well and the front door shut behind her. Zephyr locked it and turned, “let's get on with finding my dad.”

Dorian coughed and said, “right now? We don't have magic, remember?”

“You don't,” Cas said with a grin. “I do.”

“What?” Dorian asked.

“My parents had a spell,” he said, his reply sounding completely rehearsed.

“Okay,” Dorian said, stretching out his ‘o’. “How would that help us?”

“I was thinking of tracking spells? Since we're out of school, we can leave whenever we want now, so we can hunt him down more often and get to places faster.”

Zephyr shut the tap and leaned against the counter, arms crossed. She said, “we can't use floo powder or whatever. We still may be too late.”

“She does have a point,” Dorian said. He swept his hair from his eyes. “Let's go with Cas’ idea first, since we don't have any others, and solve any problems as they arise.”

“Do you have a compass?” Cas asked, jumping up excitedly, once his idea was given the go-ahead.

“I should have one,” Zephyr said, frowning. Her old school used one for Geography lessons.

She headed to her room, flicking on her ceiling lights to cast a weak glow over her childhood bedroom. The blue walls, once the colour of midnight, were faded. Her magazine cut-outs and posters of bands hung on around haphazardly. Dust covered her bed and nightstand. It was obvious her mother had stayed out of her room, which she was grateful for as she liked having privacy.

She rummaged through her desk and shoved away empty ball pen cartridges and random balls of paper until she found the tiny plastic compass hidden behind a pencil case full of crayons.

Zephyr grasped it and slammed her drawer shut. She walked back to the kitchen and slid it across the table to the boys.

“Right,” Cas said, flipping it into the air and catching it neatly. “I think the Trace Charm goes something like…this.”

He touched the tip of his wand to the compass. “Avenseguim, Zephyr’s dad.”

An orange light shot through his wand and into the compass. They crowded around him as the needle began spinning wildly before settling in a direction that was definitely not north.

“Oh, my god!” Zephyr exclaimed. “It worked?”

“It worked?” Dorian repeated, shocked.

Cas scowled at them. “Of course it worked. I casted it. My magic always goes well.”

“Remember the time when the trolls came and you—” Zephyr began.

“—or the time when…” Dorian piped up.

“Shut up,” Cas grumbled, rolling his grey eyes. “This worked. The past is the past.”

“Wanna leave now?” Zephyr asked, unable to contain herself.

Dorian blinked, pursed his lips and then shrugged, “sure, but won't your mom question our disappearances?”

“No,” Zephyr said, “she trusts me with taking care of myself and coming home eventually.”

This settled it for the two boys. They nodded and turned to grab their bags.

“Pack light. We don't know how far her dad is.”

“We should rent or borrow bikes,” Cas suggested. “It’ll be faster and easier to navigate.” He paused to look at Dorian. “You do know how to cycle, right?”

Dorian turned pink, “of course I do!”

Zephyr ignored them to find clean shirts and pants to stuff into a backpack. She took some snacks as well. Soon, they left after writing a brief note to her mom that they were safe and would be gone for a while.

Zephyr had two bikes, one that fit her and one for her mom. Cas flirted with a girl down the street to borrow another one and off they went, following the compass.

It changed directions several times, meaning her dad was using magic to apparate to different places, which made tracking him a pain in the ass. They got tired at about two in the morning and hunkered down at a park to rest and eat some crisps for dinner.

“What if he went to a different country?” Dorian asked.

The excitement of their plan working had finally faded and logic had settled in.

Cas sighed, stretching his legs out on the grass. Crickets chirped in the shadows of the trees, darkness pressing in around them.

“I wish there was an easier way,” Cas said, frustrated. “Like, a way to be at sites where he would appear before him.”

Dorian's eyes lit up and he gasped so loud they flinched.

“What?” Zephyr asked.

“We can make a situation happen!”

“What?” Cas blinked.

Dorian thrummed his fingers against his thigh. “I've been thinking of how to bring my parents down. I may have been inspired by our Bloodtraitor—” Cas scowled. “—so I was like, why not expose them for my brother’s murder? But it would soil our reputation forever and my parents plus extended family would be arrested and stuff. It would cause such an uproar.”

He continued, an evil little grin on his face, “but isn't that exactly what your father is drawn to? He was there when Cas did his little stunt.”

“I think the arrest of my family was more than ‘a little stunt’,” Cas protested, sounding offended.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Dorian said dismissively. “The point is, why chase your dad when we can bring him here and bring my parents down?”

“That’s…” Zephyr trailed off. “Genius, actually. It's genius!”

“How would we do this?” Cas asked.

“My family always does a get-together around Christmas. Everyone will be there, excluding Faustus,” Dorian’s eyes darkened slightly. He said, “they’ll meet with other pure blooded families, some of which are associated with or are followers of the Dark Lord. Meeting these people is already pretty much illegal but it's hard to arrest them without proof that they're committing crimes.”

“So we catch them in the act?” Cas clarified, thinking. Zephyr could see the gears in his head turning.

“Yeah.”

“Where do they usually meet?”

“My house. It's big enough to hold an event and—”

“—and have a dozen statues, yes,” Cas said, grinning as Dorian swatted his arm. “Will they have guards?”

“Yes, and a lot of magical traps and spells around to stop unwanted visitors,” the blond said, bringing a knee to his chest.

The air was cold and the park was empty, but Zephyr never felt less alone in her life.

“Do you know how to get past the defences?” She asked him.

Dorian shook his head. “Never needed to. I was always confined in the house so I didn't need to take them down to leave.”

“But you do know what type of curses they set?”

“Of course. I followed my dad around to learn some,” he said. “I just don't know the counter-curses.”

“You can leave that to me,” Cas said, smiling wildly. He looked like he had recieved a puppy on Christmas.

“We have to,” Zephyr deadpanned. “You're the only one with magic.”

“Right.” Cas shrugged. “No big deal, I’m skillful enough to cover the two of you. No offence, by the way.”

“A lot taken, thanks,” Dorian snorted and then yawned. “My house is quite far away–maybe a couple of hours by train.”

“Can we take the London Underground?”

“I think so, but we’ll need to bike the rest of the way. It's pretty far in the countryside to stop muggles from stumbling across us.”

“Let's get going, then. We’ll plan the counter curses on the way.”

Chapter 10: 1.9

The journey was pretty easy to plan. They found a couple of maps of the metro and quickly sketched a plan.

They cycled from Russell Square to the metro, took the train from Old Kent Road to Waterloo Station.

The ride was only six stops but it was enough time to talk about several spells that could be present.

“The first one is obvious: the Protego Diabolica.” Dorian said. “It's a ring of black fire that burns enemies and leaves allies unharmed.”

“We, meaning I, can probably use Finite or Finite Incantatem.” Cas sat with his legs crossed on the plastic seat of the train.

They were almost alone in the carriage, given how late it was.

“They definitely casted Fidelius, the charm that can conceal my entire fucking house,” Dorian said in a bored tone. “Of course, they trusted me to know the location, so I’m a secret keeper, as well as my brother, but my parents probably know I’ve turned by now.”

Cas nodded thoughtfully and said, “I’m worried about Protego Maxima, Fianto Duri and Repello Inimicum. Those are hard to counter.”

“What do they do?” Zephyr asked.

“Used together, they create a sort of large barrier that disintegrates enemies that touch it,” Dorian explained.

“I think Finite Incantatem can handle it,” Cas said, frowning. “But I need it to be strong. Very…strong.”

He fell silent, thinking. Then, he said, “let's find some place to stay the night.”

“What?”

They had reached Waterloo station by then and left the train.

“Rest up,” the brunette said. He smiled, “we need our energy for Christmas in a couple of days. It's the most-likely time everyone will be there. Meanwhile, I need to settle something.”

Zephyr and Dorian exchanged puzzled looks but they followed the boy up to the surface. Their bikes awkwardly took out all their ankles as they carried them up. They emerged out in the early morning with bruised legs and torn calves.

“Explain?” Dorian asked.

“Not yet. I don't want to get our hopes up,” Cas said and grinned. “Do you think motels will accept three twelve year olds?”

The answer was, yes, they did, after a lot of money and begging. Soon enough, the receptionist bought their little story of how their parents went on holiday and the three of them were left alone and now they needed a place to stay for the night before their parents picked them up in the morning. Several hundred dollars were flashed and they had their room key.

Their room was tiny, with one Queen-sized bed and a sofa, no coffee machine and a pathetic bathroom. It reminded Zephyr of her apartment but the two rich boys were beyond disgusted.

“God, I feel like it's so squeezy I can barely breathe,” Dorian complained.

“I want the bed,” Cas said.

“I’m not sharing it with you.”

“You two get the floor, I get the bed,” Zephyr decided with a stern glare.

They shut up after that and it was decided. Cas got the sofa and Dorian had the chair. Zephyr jumped onto her comfy bed and sighed happily.

Cas showered and left a couple of hours later. Dorian and her tried to figure out what he was up to, but they knew it was no use. The boy was full of surprises. No one would be able to guess his next moves.

They slept late into the afternoon and only rose when Cas came back, looking exhausted to the bones.

“What happened?” Dorian demanded.

Cas waved him away and collapsed face-first onto the bed, “later. I’ll tell you once everything is decided. I don't want to give false hope and make us plan around my idea. We stick to the original decision first. If my plan goes through, it’ll be great. Now, please, let me sleep.”

They did. After they got ready, they left to find food. Overnight , it had snowed a couple of centimetres and it made riding their bikes too difficult, so they walked, bundled up in layers of clothes.

Everyone around them seemed alive with the holiday spirits. Cheerful lights hung across the doorways of shops. Christmas trees stood out in yards. Tiny snowmen were constructed on sidewalks. Children ran by, tossing snowballs at each other as worried parents called after them to slow down.

Dorian and her dropped by a western restaurant for Fish and Chips and chatted about regular, magical things like school and next year’s curriculum.

“A lot can go wrong,” Zephyr said. They were perched atop wooden stools across from each other. She dipped a chip into mustard. “We could die.”

“Yes, knowing my parents, we definitely could.” Dorian sipped on his hot chocolate. The steam made his cheeks turn a lovely pink.

He looked happier than he ever had, and more human. Zephyr didn't see the stone-cold marble statue anymore, but a living, breathing human; her friend.

Dorian narrowed his icy blue eyes, “what?”

“Nothing,” she cleared her throat and looked down at her mostly-empty plate.

The restaurant was nice and warm. She felt content and normal for once. She had friends. She was cared for. How did the most scary year of her life become the best year of her life as well?

“Okay,” Dorian shrugged. “What do you think Cas did?”

“No clue.”

“Yeah.”

They lapsed back into silence.

Then, the door opened, the little jovial tinkle from the bell indicating someone had entered.

“I've searched everywhere for you,” Cas called, yawning.

He looked…very cozy in his grey winter coat. It was zipped to his throat, making him look like a tall marshmallow. He sat beside her, stealing a chip off her plate.

“What have you been up to?” Cas asked, grabbing a menu from the side of the table.

“We should ask you the same,” Zephyr said, arching an eyebrow.

“Wow,” he said, pouting. “Can't let me settle down first? Fine, fine.”

He abandoned the cheerful facade and pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket. He smoothed it out across the table and slid it to them to read.

Dorian read it first, eyes growing wider and wider at each sentence and then he stared up, awestruck. “You…”

“I did.”

“That’s…” the egoistic blond seemed lost for words, a rare and unusual sighting, so Zephyr grabbed the letter to read it as well.

To Mister Casspian Blackthorn.

Although the Ministry of Magic does not approve of the way you barged in last night with no appointment, we have carefully considered your request.

We understand we have granted you several requests after the help you have provided us in the capture of the Blackthorn family, which we will be eternally grateful for. However, granting your friends, Zephyr Sylvester-Lee and Dorian Harlot, unconditional use of magic like we have granted you have is out of the question.

We will instead grant them a conditional use of magic, and exempt them from the rule of Minors (that are above eleven and under seventeen) being prohibited from using magic outside Hogwarts. They may not use curses against other people with the intention of harm, but only use it for self defence. No muggle-born are to see them use any magic. They are also to report any use of magic in a document to be handed over before the school year resumes.

There will be severe consequences if they break our rules. Furthermore, they are not to tell anyone of our decision and to keep this secret in any way possible.

Regards,
Cornelius Fudge

“So, what, we can use our magic anywhere now?” Zephyr asked slowly.

“With a lot of conditions, but it was the best I could do,” Cas said nonchalantly, like he had not just done the most amazing thing ever. “I was thinking that to break down the barrier around Harlot’s house, I would need help, so why not get two of the best magical folk I know to help me?”

“I may cry,” Dorian said, dry-eyed and monotone. “I’m touched, Blackthorn.”

“I know,” he said, laughing. “Shall we plan it out now?”

“So, our conditions are that we can't harm others before they harm us. We also need to keep a record of any spells we use,” Dorian said, noting it down a piece of napkin. “So, we need a list of spells that are not only harmless, but also commonly used.”

“Expelliarmus and all that stuff?” Zephyr asked, leaning forward.

Cas nodded, “exactly. It's not ideal, given we may have to counter Dark Curses, but we have an advantage. They don't know we can use magic.”

“Dorian also knows his house inside out,” Zephyr added.

Cas raised his hand, and they gave him a strange look but a waitress came up to them.

“Fish and chips, please, plus a Hamburger with a side of fries and Navajo Tacos. Two more hot chocolate and a root beer for me. Thanks.”

“You want to eat?” Dorian asked incredulously as the waitress went to put in the order.

“We’ll be here for a while,” he said with a shrug, “and I’m hungry as hell.”

The afternoon turned to evening pretty quickly as they listed spells they could use safely, spells that were risky and spells that they had to stay away from. Then, they tried to predict what spells could be thrown at them, and what counters they could use safely.

Finally, they ran through a roughly (and very badly) drawn layout of Dorian’s house. They planned several methods of exits, how to bring the Ministry to the place to catch them and when they should.

“I think we should call them first,” Cas said. “So that they arrive in the heat of the moment, saving us while seeing the whole thing.”

They were walking back to their motel, which they somehow managed to pay to let them stay a night longer.

All of them knew that they weren't facing a bunch of students like Draco and Hills that had a limited knowledge of spells and rules that bound them. No, they were fighting against Dark Wizards that would happily murder them if need be. They had to be cautious for the first time in their lives.

Dorian was understandably nervous but Cas looked like he had just recieved a thousand dollars. He was practically vibrating with excitement. Zephyr just wanted to throw up.

They went to bed and woke up on Christmas Eve, the day they were going to help orphan Dorian Harlot.

Soon, both of her friends were going to be Bloodtraitors and she was going to see her dad.

They didn't talk much on the journey there. They decided that carrying the operation out under the cover of the night was the best idea.

They arrived when the sun was setting and began the cycle there. Lealands, the tiny town they landed at, was a couple of kilometres away.

Dorian led the way, quietly while Cas and her chatted about school to pass the time. They sent an Owl to the Ministry to explain everything and that they needed them to get to the Harlot Residence as soon as possible. The owl would take several hours to reach so it gave them enough time.

Zephyr prayed it was timed properly. If the Ministry arrived too early, it would ruin everything, and if they arrived too late, the three of them would be dead.

The sky was dark when they reached Dorian's home.

It was as grand as he had boasted it to be. It was a mansion, built on over two hundred square metres of land. It was all oak wood and dark brick walls. His house was like a prison, and Zephyr immediately knew why Dorian acted the way he used to.

No one could have a heart growing up in that place.

As expected, they couldn't see the shield, but Dorian confirmed it was there. They parked their bike outside the perimeters and went through their plan one last time.

“If our spell isn't strong enough to break it in one go, they’ll hear the explosions and come out. If we can't get through, we can't do anything. The Ministry wouldn’t be able to get in. Our whole plan will fail. Once the barrier comes down, we have maybe ten to twenty seconds to go in and hide. If we are too slow, we are dead,” Cas said gravely.

It was strange to see him so serious. Zephyr's heart was about to beat out of her chest.

“If they find us and they use spells that could kill, you defend yourself any way you can. If not, stick to the list of spells we deemed okay to cast,” Cas said and then looked at Dorian. “Don't use your heart to move, use your head. Don't be rash, don't be reckless. Don't do anything to get revenge that can put you or us in danger.”

Dorian nodded and said, “I know.”

“Don't panic, keep your cool. Think through every step you take. Remember every spell you cast and why you casted them for the report. Don't do anything that could incriminate you. After this, we all become the scum to society. We become traitors and ‘evil’. You know my reputation. It’ll become yours as well.”

They nodded.

Cas sighed, rubbing his eyes and then mustered up his iconic, up-to-no-good crooked smile. “Let's do this.”

They stood and began towards where the barrier would start. Dorian had said it was roughly around the trees, so they stopped a couple of metres from the tree line.

They took out their wand, exchanged looks, and as one, they cried out, “Finite Incantatem.”

All Zephyr could think about as a bright red light sailed out from their wands, was that they were going to have the coolest Christmas break ever.

It hit the barrier. Ripples of lightning crackled across the barrier as she gritted her teeth against the strain of the power.

This felt like nothing she had ever done. No amount of magic she ever used could ever mount to the sheer exhaustion she felt several seconds into the spell. Dorian seemed to be straining as well, knees buckling underneath his weight. Only Cas seemed perfectly fine, as usual.

The red-and-white glow of the barrier fighting their spell reflected off him. He looked regal, brown hair tousled and a sharp glint in his eyes. Casspian Blackthorn stood tall and proud, back straight, unwavering.

By now, the people in the house knew they were there. She saw dozens of little dark figures running out.

She was just about to lose hope when boom—the shield shattered like glass. They were in. For a split second, all three of them were too stunned to move. It seemed like the world was holding its breath. No crickets chirped. The wind did not rustle the trees. It was dead silent.

“Run!” Cas screamed.

It broke through their daze and they made a mad dash down the hill. Zephyr's breathing was the only thing she could hear. Blades of grass cut into her legs. Her calves were wet from the ground–it must have rained earlier. The smell of smoke was everywhere.

Then, her hearing snapped back to her. There was shouting and confused yells as Dorian’s family tried to make sense of what had happened. The three of them looped around the side of the house, running fast and low, trying to be silent, as they avoided the party-goers.

Dorian ripped open the sliding door at the side after making sure the coast was clear, and they sprinted inside. They doubled over, catching their breaths.

“Oh, my god,” wheezed Cas. “That was awesome.”

“I want to throw up,” Dorian gasped out.

Zephyr couldn't even speak yet.

“Okay, now we figure out who is here and what they are doing,” Cas said and straightened up. “I feel like I’m about to explode and zoom to the moon. I've never been this jittery.”

“Let's not zoom anywhere,” Dorian said, looking around. “Dining room is through here.”

They were in a kitchen, made of cold marble and dark wood. It looked like a gothic, rich person had built it, which was technically true.

The dining room was equally as depressing. It was a long, slim room with a black dining table stretching from one end to the other end of the room, paired with two rows of black throne-like chairs. The surface of the table was covered in half eaten food, which Cas reached for. He produced a drumstick and began munching.

“Right now?” Zephyr asked incredulously.

Cas whined, “I’m hungry. The magic made me hungry.” He dragged out the ‘y’ in the word ‘hungry’.

“There's about thirty guests,” Dorian said, scanning the room. “Half of them should be family.”

“Okay, half of them are unidentified, which is good,” Cas said, nodding.

Then, someone entered the room. It was a woman with unruly, curly, black hair and heavy makeup. She wore a Victorian black dress and smiled maniacally when she saw them.

“Wittle Dorian is home!” She cackled.

“Oh, dear lord,” Dorian said in a strangled voice. “Lestrange.”

“Oh, dear, Lestrange,” Cas said softly, wand gripped in his hand.

“Who’s that?” Zephyr asked, clueless as ever.

“Er,” Cas leaned down to whisper. “Think of a Dark Wizard that loves to murder. That's her. Infamously associated with Dark Curses. Was on the way to Azkaban when she went missing. Very dangerous.”

“Slightly crazy as well,” Dorian muttered.

It was good, because it meant his family was harbouring a criminal, which was illegal, meaning they were right. On the downside, they were face-to-face with a murderer.

“Oh, dear,” Zephyr agreed.

“Is that…I cannot believe my eyes,” Lestrange said, smiling wildly to show rotting teeth. “It's the Blackthorn son. The Bloodtraitor.”

“Yes, hello, that's me,” Cas said and waved slightly.

The two of them shot him questioning looks.

Lestrange then tilted her head as her gaze settled on Zephyr. The girl froze. It felt like she was being scrutinised under a microscope, like a lion was watching its prey. She felt cold and sweaty as dread drowned her.

“And who are you?”

“I…” she wasn't about to introduce herself to a Dark Witch.

“Doesn't matter,” the woman pulled her wand out. “What brings you here?”

“I wanted to introduce my friends to my parents?” Dorian said weakly, squeaking on the last word.

They were all equally terrified. More people entered, one after the other. Zephyr could immediately recognise Dorian’s parents. They were as beautiful (in a rough, cold way) as he was. They had the same pale-like-a-ghost skin, stunning blue eyes and golden hair. Hills was also there, and he was gaping at them in complete shock.

“This is not good,” noted Cas. “That is a lot of Dark Wizards.”

“How did you break the barrier?” Mister Harlot asked.

“Er,” Cas scratched his head with his wand. “With magic?”

“Well, no shit,” Zephyr said. Was it really the best time to be sarcastic?

Dorian seemed frozen. Cas looked calm but she could see the beads of sweat on his forehead. Zephyr was just plain confused.

“Is it the part we start running?” She whispered to her friends.

They didn't reply.

Cas spoke again, “we really, really wanted to meet you.”

Was he trying to talk their way out of the situation? Cas must have felt absolutely cornered to resort to negotiation. He had always fought first, talked later. Zephyr suddenly understood just how fucked they were.

Then, the world around her exploded once more.

Chapter 11: 1.10

The Ministry of Magic arrived in a flash of spells and shouting.

The three of them ducked beneath the table as a spell bounced off the wall, nearly hitting Zephyr. Dozens of Aurors stormed the room and the battle began.

It was hard to process what exactly was going on. It had turned from tense silence to screaming. Enchantations were tossed around, flashes of lights filled the air like bullets.

Cas smiled at them, “stay here, yeah?”

Before Zephyr could grab the boy, he was rolling out nimbly and into the chaos.

“Avada Kedavra,” Lestrange screeched. A green light slammed into one of the Aurors. He went down immediately, his body landing next to Dorian.

“Stay here!” Dorian was the next one to leave their hiding spot. “Expelliarmus!”

There was a loud thump. Someone had hit the wall. Zephyr groaned and made her way out from the table to help her friends. She felt too bad to lay low out of firing range as her friends fought.

Outside was worse than she could have ever imagined. Bodies, both from Dorian’s family’s side and the Ministry’s side, littered the room. She wasn't sure how many were dead. She also wasn't sure how Hills ended up draped over the Chandelier above them.

“Get back down,” Cas said as he fired off his iconic spell that filled the lungs of Dorian’s mother with cement.

“Hell no,” Zephyr replied and quickly dodged a spell while muttering, “Stupefy!”

A man froze mid-chant, wand poised in the air.

“Depulso!” Dorian cried, tossing a woman into the ceiling. He must have been the one to dispose of his brother.

It looked like a rave in there, with the multi-colour flashes of spells being hurled back and forth. Zephyr wasn't even sure who the good guys were, she was just trying not to die.

“Get out, kids!” Some guy told them. He must have been from the Ministry. “Now!”

Cas looked like he wanted to stay, but he glanced at the two of them and then pushed them towards the broken windows. They clambered out as fast as they could. Zephyr’s foot caught the sill and down she went, hitting the ground outside.

Dorian hauled her up and they sprinted away from the house. More Aurors were arriving to aid the first group. They didn't disturb the three of them as they ran by.

“That's the Minister!” Cas yelled.

Fudge was standing with a group of important-looking people near the trees, right where they had broken the barrier.

He looked up as they reached him.

“Are you hurt?” He asked immediately.

“Not really.” Besides the bruises and scrapes, they were unharmed.

The man nodded. “You led us to another clan of Dark Wizards, Casspian Blackthorn.”

Cas was gulping down water. He paused, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and grinned weakly, “it's a hobby, sir.”

The three of them dissolved into laughter, all half out of their minds. A crowd was there, reporters, Ministers, other powers of Authorities.

“Firefly!”

Her heart stopped. Zephyr whipped around and she spotted him. Her father was held back by several Aurors as he strained towards her.

“Papa,” she whispered.

The two boys followed her gaze.

She ran forward, ducking beneath the Auror’s arms and smashed into her father. His arms wrapped around her tightly, and she began to sob.

“Papa, oh my god, I knew you would be here,” she wailed.

She was ten again, realising her dad was never coming home.

“What do you mean?” He pulled away.

He looked the same as he did the last time she saw him, just older and more ragged. His dark, straight hair was messy and long, covering his eyes. He had new round glasses. He smelled like home–chlorine from their pool and motor oil. She pulled away.

“We–my friends and I–knew you always showed up to historical events like this and…” she paused, realising how dumb her next words were. “We decided to bring down my friend’s family so I could find you…?”

“Explaining it like that makes it less impressive, Zeph’,” Cas said and held out his hand. “Hello, sir, I’m Casspian Blackthorn, the one who also got his family arrested. Nice to meet you.”

“And I’m Dorian Harlot. I go to Hogwarts with Zephyr,” Dorian flashed a smile. “I just got my family arrested.”

“Please never introduce yourselves like that again,” Zephyr wiped her cheeks.

Cas draped his jacket around her shoulders. “Now, what? Will you go home with Zephyr?”

“I can't. It's safer like this. I’m being tracked by someone very powerful and evil. I need to be constantly on the move. I come to situations like this in hopes that my tracker dies.” Her father sighed heavily. “I wish I could watch you grow up. But it's safer I’m away so you—”

“Can grow up,” she said quietly, recalling the vision she had. Her voice cracked with emotion.

“Yes,” he seemed surprised. “Exactly that.”

“Mom needs you,” she tried. She knew she was begging but by god, if she had to go down on her knees to plead, she would. “I need you!”

Her scream made the three people flinch. Cas wrapped an arm around her shoulders, squeezing her gently. I am here, he was telling her. I am by your side.

Her father took a step back, then another and then turned. “I’ll see you around, Firefly. Take care of yourself.”

“No, please, papa,” Zephyr sobbed, knees buckling. “Come back!” She hit the ground.

He disappeared into the darkness. Zephyr was ten again. She was afraid in her new apartment. She hid underneath her covers, too scared to move, waiting for the sun to rise. Her mom worked all night. She was alone. She was alo—

“We’ll find him again,” Cas said, kneeling beside her. He adjusted his jacket over her once over, tying the sleeve to secure it. “I promise. We’ll kill whoever is tracking him and bring him home.

Dorian settled down beside her. “We will.”

There they were, surrounded by Aurors and reporters, as Dark Wizards were led out in bounds and whisked away on broomsticks. The night sky was star-speckled. A cold breeze dried her tears yet she felt warmed by her friends.

“What time is it?” Cas asked a random reporter who was snapping pictures of them on the ground.

“Ten past midnight.”

Cas grinned at them. “Merry Christmas, Zephyr, Dorian. We destroyed Christmas!”

Chapter 12: 1.11

The next day was a blur. They were told to pack and head back to Hogwarts for safety purposes. They were probably now the targets of other Dark Wizards. Many reporters were also trying to find them.

Zephyr told most of the story to her mom, leaving out everything about her dad because she could not bear to think about him.

Then, they left for school again. On the train, which was completely empty, they began talking about what they had not told anyone, even when they wrote their report for the Minister.

“Why was Qurriel there?” Cas groaned.

They were trying to figure it out for so long. Cas had spotted his turban in the middle of the fight, but then nothing. He had disappeared again. He was not in any reports, which had spread through the Wizarding world like fire.

“Are you sure he was there?” Dorian asked. “Maybe it was just someone else in a turban.”

The two of them gave him a look.

Dorian sighed, “fine, okay, he was there. So, what, the scaredy cat is a Dark Wizard?”

Zephyr said, “makes sense. I knew something was off about him after what he did to Harry.”

“But it makes no sense!” Dorian sounded defeated. He said, “I could snap him in half. He can't teach for shit, either.”

“We’ll keep an eye on him when school starts,” Cas said, determined. “But, for now…”

He opened his bag and pulled out two wrapped objects. He passed one to each of them.

“You got us presents?” Zephyr asked, amazed. “When did you find the time?”

He winked at her. “I’m Casspian Blackthorn. Open it.”

They did. Cas had gotten Dorian a beautiful silver watch. Zephyr’s gift was an empty mason jar. It was pocketsized.

“Watch this,” Cas said, seeing the disappointment on her face.

He took the jar, pointed his wand and said, “Revelio.”

An insect made out of fire lit up the jar. It fluttered around and then was gone again.

“A firefly to light up any darkness you face,” Cas explained, cheeks pink. “When you think you're alone, know that we are with you in any metaphorical jar you are in, and will guide your way.”

“That is so lame,” Dorian snorted but he was smiling.

Zephyr teared up and Cas looked alarmed, “did I choose the wrong thing? I thought it was sweet and—”

She tackled him into a hug. They fell onto the seat and he laughed, squeezing her back.

“I also have a gift,” Dorian said and they untangled themselves from each other. “It's not as thoughtful as Cas’ but…”

He gave them two tiny boxes. Cas opened his first. It was a ring, made of a clear crystal and a gold band.

Hers was the same as well.

“It's kind of stupid,” Dorian began as he slid out an identical ring. “Put them on.”

They all wore the rings. The crystal glowed softly, warming her finger.

“To signal we’re all nearby each other,” Dorian said almost shyly. “In case we get into situations–who am I kidding? When we get into another situation like we did yesterday, it glows to tell each other we are close by. It can be taken off anytime. When it's off, it’ll be warm when we are near.”

“That is adorable,” teased Cas.

“Shut up.”

“If you are expecting a present, don't,” Zephyr said seriously, then cracked a smile. “That's a lie. Here, take these.”

She had done a last minute grab of two copies of the same classic book she hadn't touched yet that laid in her room.

“Dracula,” she said.

“Thank you, Zephyr,” Cas said, gently tucking it into his bag. “I’ll read it tonight.”

“I bet I could read it faster,” Dorian said, grinning.

She rolled her eyes as the two boys began squabbling about who could read faster.

“We’ll figure out the whole Quirrel thing later,” Cas decided. “Let's just enjoy Christmas for now.”

They reached school soon and, after dumping their belongings in their rooms, headed to the Great Hall for the feast.

Of course, they were instantly surrounded by students that hadn't gone home for the holidays. They were all asking them to tell them the whole story.

“It's all in the papers,” Cas said, eyeing the turkey longingly, which was blocked by students.

“But it's different!” A Ravenclaw boy exclaimed. He was a Second-year, probably.

“I'm sure they had enough questions for a while,” Professor Dumbledore interrupted. “Let them enjoy Christmas!”

The students left, all looking disappointed. Cas nodded his thanks and they took a seat at their table.

—

The break ended and school began again. Snow fell heavily, and they had about a week of detention after shooting off fireworks on News Years Day.

Dorian and Cas were regarded with a new level of fear and respect from the students. Everyone steered clear from them, besides the Golden Trio. Eventually, the nearing Quidditch match took all the attention away from them.

Nothing particularly interesting happened, but the boys made it a point to talk loudly about what happened on Christmas in front of Quirrell, every single time he was nearby. They also very pointedly stared straight at him as they spoke.

It seemed like, while they had no plan to out Quirrell themselves, they were baiting him into making the first move.

Finally, match day came. They found themselves back at the stands, food being passed out yet again from Cas’ bottomless pockets.

“Something is definitely going to happen today,” Cas said, breathing in deeply. “I can smell it!”

“All I can smell is body odor and popcorn,” Dorian said with an eyeroll. He tossed a handful of snacks into his mouth. “I’m betting on Gryffindor winning.”

“Hufflepuff. Snape’s the referee,” Zephyr said.

Snape proceeded to prove Zephyr right by awarding Hufflepuff two penalties for no reason at all.

Harry was circling the game like a hawk, watching for the Snitch. Harry suddenly went into a dive, which drew gasps and cheers from the crowd.

Harry raced towards the ground as fast as a bullet. He shot by Snape and pulled up inches from the ground, raising the Snitch in the air. The whistle blew and Gryffindor won.

“Damn,” Cas said sorrowfully, looking at his uneaten feast of corn dogs, popcorn, nachos and cookies spread around him. “This is wasteful.”

“So much for this being eventful,” Dorian yawned, leaning back. “I should have stayed in bed.”

Zephyr laughed. “C’mon.”

They left the stands and headed towards the open fields to practice more magic, skipping dinner. After their fight, they all realised how underpowered they were. No matter how good they were in school, they were near helpless against real Dark Wizards. They did their best to squeeze in as much duals between each other as they could.

The evening was cold, winter fading away slowly. They joked and gossiped as they walked until Cas grabbed both of them and hauled them behind a tree.

“Shh,” he hissed before they could say anything.

Together, they peaked out. A hooded figure came hurrying from the castle. Obviously not wanting to be seen, it walked as fast as possible toward the forbidden forest.

“Well, well, well," Cas grinned. "What do we have here?”

“You sound like a stereotypical cartoon villain,” Dorian deadpanned and began following the figure.

“Do I?”

Zephyr gave her friend a sympathetic pat on the shoulder as she went after Dorian.

The forest was dark and scary, but nothing was scarier than the day they took the Harlots down, so Zephyr pushed on. They stayed far enough so that any snapped twigs or noise they made would not be heard by the mysterious person.

Soon enough, they stopped. The trio hid in the bushes, Dorian looked a bit put off that his cloak was now dirty, and listened.

It was Snape. Quirrell was there, too.

“. . . d-don’t know why you wanted t-t-to meet here of all p-places, Severus . . .”

“Oh, I thought we’d keep this private,” said Snape, his voice icy. “Students aren’t supposed to know about the Sorcerer’s Stone, after all.”

Quirrell was mumbling something.

Snape interrupted him. “Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid’s yet?”

“B-b-but Severus, I —”

“You don’t want me as your enemy, Quirrell,”
said Snape, taking a step toward him.

“I-I don’t know what you —”

“You know perfectly well what I mean.”

“I know about your little bit of hocus-pocus. I’m waiting.”

“B-but I d-d-don’t —”

“Very well,” Snape cut in. “We’ll have another little chat soon, when you’ve had time to think things over and decide where your loyalties lie.”

He threw his cloak over his head and strode out of the clearing. Quirrell stood still for a moment before heading away back to the Castle.

Once they felt it was safe, they got out of their hiding place.

“So,” Cas plucked a beetle from his arm. “What do you think?”

“I think,” Dorian said, dusting off his clothes, “I’m cold. And that we have some homework to do on the Sorcerer's Stone.”

It was quite hard to get all the books they needed. It took several hours to get them, and the worst part was it was in the Restricted section. Cas and Dorian split the pile between them, having better memories than Zephyr did. She was on watch for Snape or Quirrell.

Once they were shooed out by the Librarian, they went back to the Slytherin dorm. Zephyr sat on Cas’ bed as they explained what they found.

“Basically, it's this magical stone that can create the Elixir of Life that grants the drinker immortality and can turn metal into pure gold,” Cas said, lying on the floor.

“It didn't exactly make the drinker immortal,” Dorian continued from his bed beside Cas’. “It prolonged the maker’s wife’s life for six centuries.”

“Nicolas Flamel isn't really talked about much,” Cas said with a sigh. “Shame. He sounds pretty cool.”

“So Snape wants the stone?” Zephyr asked.

Dorian shook his head and said, “not Snape. He would have gotten it by now. He has been here forever. He would have found a way around the dog. Quirrell, on the other hand, is new to Hogwarts. He must be having trouble getting it.”

“Why would he want to be immortal?” Zephyr tossed the notes on Defence Against the Dark Arts away.

“Why do people drink? Everyone has different reasons, different motivations. Maybe he wants gold, maybe he has something to live for, maybe he wants to save his dying mom,” Cas snorted at his last words. “Whatever. We just need to keep Quirrell away from it. Meaning, we have to stalk him even more.”

“Do ya think the trio know anything else?” Zephyr asked.

“Probably. Let's ask them.”

Chapter 13: 1.12

It was a couple weeks before they actually had the chance to ask. Between stacks (and she did mean stacks) of homework, revision, secret practice with the boys and newspaper reviews, they simply had no time.

Every student steered clear of them when they walked down the hall. Cas and Dorian were both proudly owning their titles of Bloodtraitors’.

“How did you…” Ron trailed off as they cornered them during breakfast. His hand was swollen, for some reason.

“We have our ways,” Cas said dismissively.

“How did you have time, between taking down…” Harry cast a look at Dorian who sneered back. “Yeah.”

“Ruining families is our hobby,” Cas exclaimed cheerfully. “So, what’s the plan?”

“And what happened to your hand?” Zephyr added.

Ron blushed and began stuttering, “a bee stung me?”

“A dragon bit him,” Harry said quietly.

Hermione stared at him, “Harry! We weren't supposed to tell anyone!”

“They’d be able to help,” Harry argued back.

Cas examined Ron’s hand thoughtfully and asked, “what kind of dragon?”

“It's a Norwegian Ridgeback.”

“Yeah, you probably should see Madam Pomfrey. Their fangs are poisonous,” Cas said and sighed. “Where is it?”

“Hagrid is taking care of Norbert. You mustn't tell anyone,” Hermione said, eyes wide. “Hagrid will get into so much trouble!”

“We’re the last people to snitch,” Dorian snorted. “Just go to the hospital. We’ll figure something out.”

“We’ve sent an owl to Ron’s brother who specialises in taking care of Dragons. We’re waiting for his reply.”

Cas scratched his eyebrow thoughtfully. “Right. Not much we can do until he replies.”

The day went by quickly. Cas and Dorian did their best to insinuate that they knew Quirrell was up to no good every time he was near them, which was a two hour long lesson. By the time the lesson ended, Quirrell had broken down into tears and excused himself twice.

Zephyr almost felt sorry for him.

Once they had been dismissed from the last class, they ran to the infirmary. Ron and his friends were already there, talking to each other in hush tones.

When the three of them reached, Harry filled them in. Charlie Weasley had written to them saying that he would be at the Astronomy Tower at midnight on Saturday.

Furthermore, Draco had the letter in which all the information of Norbert was written in. Harry and Ron were in a panic the night Charlie was coming to collect the dragon.

“We’ll make sure Draco doesn't do anything,” Cas promised grimly.

“How?” Hermione exclaimed, worry framing her face.

Dorian shrugged, “we’ll figure something out. Just get Norbert to the tower in time.”

That night, the three of them snuck out behind Draco, footsteps silent in the dark night. They didn't need to talk, already attuned to each other's movements from the countless adventures they've been on.

Draco hurried on, glancing back every couple of seconds. The three of them slipped through the shadows undetected.

Finally, they were near the teacher’s quarters. Zephyr knew Draco was going to get Snape. If they were too slow and Snape did manage to wake up and follow Draco, the Golden Trio would be dead.

So, as Draco was about to pass McGonagall’s room, Zephyr threw her shoe at the door and ducked into a doorway, heart hammering in her chest. Her two friends hid as well.

The door creaked open and then—

“Detention!” she shouted. “And twenty points
from Slytherin! Wandering around in the middle of the night, how dare you —”

“You don’t understand, Professor. Harry Potter’s coming — he’s got a dragon!” Draco sounded stupid.

Zephyr muffled a giggle.

“What utter rubbish! How dare you tell such lies! Come on— I shall see Professor Snape about you, Malfoy!”

Cas grinned in malicious delight at her from across the hallway. He mouthed, “good job!”

Dorian snuck a peak from behind a bookcase and his eyes widened.

“Come out!”

Dorian gulped and then stepped out slowly.

Professor McGonagall said, “Dorian Harlot. Out at night. Casspian and Zephyr, show yourselves.”

The two of them did so, slowly and awkwardly.

“Four students out of bed at this hour! This is ridiculous! I will be bringing all of you to Professor Snape immediately!”

Zephyr grimaced and began following behind the woman. They were brought to Snape’s room, the three boys glaring daggers at each other.

She felt like sinking down into the earth. She wanted to disappear. The air was so thick with tension she could have taken a knife to it.

After what felt like an eternity, they reached a standstill outside an oak door—Snape’s room. Zephyr couldn't imagine him sleeping; did he sleep in his cloak?

McGonagall knocked and let herself in first, warning them to stay outside first. As soon as the door closed behind the teacher, Zephyr pressed her forehead against the cold stone walls, groaning.

“My father will—” Draco began.

“We’ll get your father arrested too, if you don't shut your mouth,” Cas snapped.

“You blood traitors are a disgrace of the Slytherin house,” Draco cried. “Hanging out with a half-blood and tainting your true natures!”

Dorian’s lips twisted into a snarl as he took a threatening step forward, but the door opened just in time, saving Draco’s face from being pounded into mush.

Snape stood there in all his dark, overdramatic glory. He did wear his cloak to bed. McGongall left them.

“What did you think you were doing?” He said in his slow drawl.

Draco eagerly began to explain, “Harry and his friends were going to send off a dragon that Hagrid hatched! I found their note and—”

“A dragon?” Sneered Snape. “At Hogwarts, where thousands of students stay. And only you saw this dragon?”

“I didn't see it but Harry is always up to no good, Professor!”

“Enough,” Snape said and turned to the three of them. “And you?”

Cas glanced at the two of them. Zephyr and Dorian stared back, both of their expressions hard. Cas nodded.

“We were out to get Draco into trouble,” Cas said, completely honest. “We wrote the letter, knowing Draco would jump at the chance to get Harry into trouble. We followed to see if our plan worked.”

“And why exactly, Mister Blackthorn, would you do that to your housemate?”

Dorian smiled wolfishly, “because we hate him. Because no one likes his pretentiousness.”

“What they said,” Zephyr agreed, not having anything to add.

Malfoy’s mouth dropped open and he began to splutter.

“And, seeing that he is in trouble, we did a damn good job,” Cas added.

“You are also in deep trouble,” Snape said, arms crossed.

“Occupational hazard,” Dorian said with a shrug.

“Twenty points each from Slytherin,” Snape said, eyes cold. “Detention tomorrow night after class. You will meet Filch at the entrance hall at eleven. Go to bed now.”

The door slammed shut.

Instantly, Draco whipped around to say something but faltered when he saw the looks on all of their faces. They looked at him steadily, all promising revenge if he even dared to open his mouth.

Draco ran away.

Cas sighed, running a hand through his hair, “at least we don't have to scrub anything this time.”

“Scrubbing things is definitely worse.” Dorian said, tucking a hand into his cloak. “Let's go to bed.”

 

The next day was fun to see. Harry, Ron and Hermione had lost fifty points each after also being caught, putting Gryffindor at last place. Everyone turned on the three of them.

Zephyr and her boys gave them sympathetic grins everytime they passed by. Slytherin didn't react outwardly to the three of them losing points. Their fear of the two boys was stronger than their need to win the House Cup.

Draco, however, received the bullying that was meant for them. Everywhere he went, he was shunned and insulted. By dinner, he was pale and silent, angrily poking at his food.

Once it turned eleven, they made their way to where they had to be, greeting Neville, Harry and Hermione who were there as well.

Filch was already there — and so was Malfoy.

“Follow me,” said Filch, lighting a lamp and leading them outside.

“I bet you’ll think twice about breaking a school rule again, won’t you, eh?” he said, leering at them.
“Oh yes, hard work and pain are the best teachers if you ask me. It’s just a pity they let the old punishments die out . . hang you by your wrists from the ceiling for a few days, I’ve got the chains still in my office, keep ’em well oiled in case they’re ever needed. Right, off we go, and don’t think of running off, now, it’ll be worse for you if you do.”

They marched off across the dark grounds. Neville kept sniffing. Zephyr pulled her jacket tightly around her, shivering. Cas glanced at her and wordlessly draped his cloak over her shoulders, leaving him in a thin shirt and pants.

“You’ll be cold!” Zephyr tried to refuse.

Cas smiled at her, eyes soft, “I’m okay, Zeph’.”

“I’m keeping mine, thanks. It's bloody cold,” Dorian piped up, yawning.

The moon was bright, but clouds scudding across it kept throwing them into darkness. Mist layered the ground, the grass dewy and leaving her ankles dirty.

Ahead, Zephyr could see the lighted windows of
Hagrid’s hut.

Then they heard a distant shout.“Is that you, Filch? Hurry up, I want ter get started.”

Filch said, “I suppose you think you’ll be enjoying yourself with that oaf? Well, think again, boy; it’s into the forest you’re going and I’m much mistaken if you’ll all come out in one piece.”

At this, Neville let out a little moan, and Malfoy stopped dead in his tracks. Cas’ eyes lit up and he grinned at them. Zephyr and Dorian exchanged exasperated looks, knowing they were in for an eventful night.

“The forest?” Draco repeated, and he didn’t sound quite as cool as usual. “We can’t go in there at night! There’s all sorts of things in there—werewolves, I heard.”

Neville clutched the sleeve of Harry’s robe and made a choking noise.

That’s your problem, isn’t it?” said Filch, his voice cracking with glee. “Should’ve thought of them werewolves before you got in trouble, shouldn’t you?”

Hagrid came striding toward them out of the dark, Fang at his heel. He was carrying his large crossbow, and a quiver of arrows hung over his shoulder. The rest of the people there paled, but Cas looked overjoy at the prospect of having to fight.

“Abou’ time,” he said. “I bin waitin’ fer half an hour already. All right, Harry, Hermione?”

“I shouldn’t be too friendly to them, Hagrid,” said Filch coldly, “they’re here to be punished, after all.”

“That’s why yer late, is it?” said Hagrid, frowning at Filch. “Bin lecturin’ them, eh? ’Snot your place ter do that. Yeh’ve done yer bit, I’ll take over from here.”

“I’ll be back at dawn,” said Filch, “for what’s left of them,” he added nastily, and he turned and started back toward the castle, his lamp bobbing away in the darkness.

“Dramatic, ain’t he?” Cas said, eagerly eyeing the forest.

Malfoy now turned to Hagrid. “I’m not going in that forest,” he said, panicking.

“Yeh are if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts,” said Hagrid fiercely. “Yeh’ve done wrong an’ now yeh’ve got ter pay fer it.”

“But this is servant stuff, it’s not for students to do. I thought we’d be copying lines or something, if my father knew I was doing this, he’d —”

“— tell yer that’s how it is at Hogwarts,” Hagrid growled. “Copyin’ lines! What good’s that ter anyone? Yeh’ll do summat useful or yeh’ll get out. If yeh think yer father’d rather you were expelled, then get back off ter the castle an’ pack. Go on!”

Malfoy didn’t move. He looked at Hagrid furiously, but then dropped his gaze.

Cas and Dorian gleefully whispered, “coward!”

Draco scowled even harder.

“Right then,” said Hagrid, “now, listen carefully, ’cause it’s dangerous what we’re gonna do tonight, an’ I don’ want no one takin’ risks. Follow me over here a moment.”

He led them to the very edge of the forest. Holding his lamp up high, he pointed down a narrow, winding earth track that disappeared into the thick black trees. A light breeze lifted their hair as they looked into the forest.

“Look there,” said Hagrid, “see that stuff shinin’ on the ground? Silvery stuff? That’s unicorn blood. There’s a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by summat. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We’re gonna try an’ find the poor thing. We might have ter put it out of its misery.”

“And what if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?” said Malfoy, unable to keep the fear out of his voice.

“There’s nothin’ that lives in the forest that’ll hurt yeh if yer with me or Fang,” said Hagrid. “An’ keep ter the path. Right, now, we’re gonna split inter three parties an’ follow the trail in diff’rent directions. There’s blood all over the place, it must’ve bin staggerin’ around since last night at least.”

“I want Fang,” said Malfoy quickly, looking at Fang’s long teeth.

“All right, but I warn yeh, he’s a coward,” said Hagrid. “So me, Harry, an’ Hermione’ll go one way an’ Draco, Neville, an’ Fang’ll go the other. Casspian, Dorian an’ Zephyr, go the third way. Now, if any of us finds the unicorn, we’ll send up green sparks, right? Get yer wands out an’ practice now—”

Cas’ wand produced multi-coloured sparks.

“—that’s it. An’ if anyone gets in trouble, send up red sparks, an’ we’ll all come an’ find yeh. So, be careful — let’s go.”

The forest was black and silent. A little way into it they reached a fork in the earth path, and Harry, Hermione, and Hagrid took the left path while Malfoy, Neville, and Fang took the right. The three of them took the middle, grinning at each other.

Who's idea was it to let the three of them go off into the forest alone? As soon as they were out of earshot of the rest, Cas burst into giggles.

“How is this a punishment?” Cas’ voice rang loud and cheerful, the forest going silent for a second at his words. “This is fun!”

Dorian said, sighing, “I’d rather be asleep.”

“Wonder why Hagrid let the three of us go off alone,” the gravel crunched beneath Zephyr’s shoes.

“There's nothing here that can take me on and win,” Cas boasted.

“Zephyr can,” Dorian said with a shrug. “Don't deny that.”

Cas conceded, “besides her. I’ll let her win any day.”

“Are we actually going to do this stupid thing?” Dorian asked, bored. “Can't we just sit somewhere and wait?”

“Nah, of course we’re finding a damn Unicorn!” Cas grinned. “Look, more blood.”

The moon lit the silvery liquid, making it glow in the dimness of the woods. They continued on the path for a bit before Cas spotted some further into the forest and they veered off path.

Zephyr didn't feel even slightly scared, walking in between the two boys. They were the best in the school, nothing could hurt them.

“It gets heavier here,” Cas said, eyes shadowed. “Be careful. Something fast got it.”

Dorian’s wand slipped out and he twirled it gracefully, blue eyes bright with anticipation. Zephyr walked closer to Cas instinctively. Cas smiled reassuringly down at her.

“You're safe,” he promised softly. “I’m here. No one can hurt you.”

They saw the unicorn a few seconds later. It laid mangled and dead in the middle of a small clearing. A tall, dark, hooded figure knelt over it, drinking from the neck of the silver creature.

Cas pressed a finger to his lips as they carefully made their way around to try to see the cloaked figure better.

A twig snapped somewhere on its right and it snapped its head up. It was horrible. Pale, shapeless face, blood dripping down its lips. Fear shot through Zephyr as the creature refocused on its meal after finding no one.

It crawled around the unicorn, making a nightmare-inducing slithering sound, to find a different place to feed on.

“AAAAAAAAAAARGH!”

Across them, someone screamed.

"Oh, for Christ's sake," Cas said, exasperatedly.

Zephyr spotted Fang, Harry and Draco there. The hooded figure raised its head and looked right at the other three. It got to its feet and came swiftly towards Harry who was frozen in fear.

Cas burst into action, a spell already flying through the air the moment the creature moved.

“Confringo!”

The creature dodged the spell with neck breaking speeds and turned to them. The spell hit a tree, causing it to explode into flames.

Dorian flicked his wand, “Petrificus Totalus.”

The thing avoided that one as well. The three of them took a step back as it approached, crawling like some horror movie character across the earth.

“Oh, god,” Zephyr whispered.

Then, a Centaur leapt through the sky. It landed before the creature, putting itself between them and the thing.

The creature hissed and retreated.

“Are you alright?” The Centuar asked.

He had blond hair and worried blue eyes, looking off at the direction the thing ran.

“Go help Harry,” Cas said, gaze also focused further into the woods. “We’ll be fine.”

The Centaur paused.

“I’m Casspian Blackthorn, we’ll be fine.”

The Centaur nodded and galloped off towards Harry.

“Cas,” she grabbed his arm. “It’s too fast for us.”

“It's our fault we used such low-level spells. Faster ones will be effective.”

“Why was it drinking unicorn blood?” Zephyr tried to change the subject.

“Only one who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain, would commit such a crime. The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are an inch from death, but at a terrible price. You have slain something pure and defenceless to save yourself, and you will have but a half-life, a cursed life, from the moment the blood touches your lips,” Cas said grimly.

“But…” Dorian trailed off. “The Sorcerer's stone. After drinking the blood to prolong life, they get the stone and become immortal.”

“Quirrell,” Zephyr gasped. “But that thing can't be…”

“The turban,” Cas said, eyes hard. “We never saw that side of his head. He is a two-faced man, in the literal sense.”

“And how do we know this, besides using literal guesswork?” Zephyr asked, tears brimming in her eyes.

She was tired, scared out of her mind, and just wanted to be in bed.

“I know,” Cas said, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “But we know.”

Zephyr did know. She knew, deep down, that he was right. She just didn't want him to be right.

“Cas,” Dorian said, jaw clenched. “Make your choice now. We go find Hagrid, or we go after that thing.”

“We have exams tomorrow,” Zephyr whispered.

“It's up to Zephyr,” Cas said. “Whatever she choses, we do.”

The two boys looked at her expectantly. A part of Zephyr shrivelled up but she straightened her back. She faced Dark Wizards. She faced hundreds of things this year that should have killed her, but she was alive and she had her two best friends by her side.

“Lumos,” she said firmly, her wand’s tip glowing. “Let's go.”

Cas and Dorian grinned viciously, their eyes glowing.

Chapter 14: 1.13

The forest was silent, like it knew something was going to happen. They walked and walked, picking their way through the lush woods carefully, moving like shadows.

They followed the broken branches and the slither lines back out of the forest. It stopped at the edge of the tree line and they stared silently at the dark castle before them.

That confirmed everything.

“Quirrell,” Dorian said quietly.

“What do we do?” She asked, still trembling.

“He knows we were there,” Cas said decisively. “You know what's worse when I get into trouble? Waiting for the consequences. We do our exams, we score the highest, and then, we focus on Quirrell.”

They met up with the others coming out of the forest soon, and after promising that they were okay, they made their way back to their dorm.

Sleep did not come easy for Zephyr. She kept waking from nightmares of the creature feasting on her blood.

As the light of dawn filtered through the windows, she rose, zombie-like, and got ready for her first class. She felt different from yesterday, like her trip through the Forbidden forest had drained her happiness away.

She went through her exams with a clouded mind.

Professor Flitwick called them one by into his class to see if they could make a pineapple tap-dance across a desk. Cas, Dorian and Zephyr excelled in that task.

Professor McGonagall watched them turn a mouse into a snuffbox. Points were given for how pretty the snuffbox was, but taken away if it had whiskers. Zephyr’s one was pretty much perfect, but Cas and Dorian clinched first place, yet again.

Snape made them all nervous, breathing down their necks while they tried to remember how to make a Forgetfulness potion. Zephyr was the second to finish, just coming up behind Casspian. Dorian’s potion exploded halfway and he had to start from scratch, pushing him down to fifth place.

Their very last exam was History of Magic. One hour of answering questions about some old wizards who’d invented self-stirring cauldrons, and they were free. Once her scroll was handed in, she met up with her friends outside the hall.

“And now,” Cas said, smiling widely, “we start.”

They went to the common room to plan it out. It was Operation Destroy Christmas again.

“Tonight, we go to the Sorcerer's stone. Exams are over, so Quirrell will have the time now,” Cas said, smoothing out a piece of parchment.

He doodled a flower on it.

“What's that for?” Dorian asked.

Cas gave him a strange look. “Do you really think I’d write out our plans for everyone to see? This is just for me to feel more important.”

“You’re a strange person,” Zephyr said.

“If Quirrell is there, we do whatever is necessary to stop him. If not, we come back the next day, and so on. The Unicorn blood can't last him that long. He must be desperate by now.” Dorian tapped his thin fingers on the table.

“We sneak in, we guard Fluffy and the stone. It's as simple as that,” Cas said, leaning back after completing his drawing of a flower with horns and sharp teeth.

She nodded. “What if we get caught?”

“Oh, that's why we aren’t sneaking out,” Cas smiled. “We wait in an empty room until everyone is safely asleep, and then we go.”

“What if a prefect notices us out of bed?” Zephyr frowned.

“Have you never snuck out of your house? We implement the simple pillow-and-shirt method,” Cas said with a grin. “Easy.”

—

The first part of their plan went without a hitch. They were safely hidden in a cupboard an hour after bedtime.

They quietly sat (practically on top of each other–Zephyr had no choice but to lean against Cas’ chest) and waited. Half an hour went by uneventfully, and then they heard footsteps hurrying down the hallway.

Cas, who had been half asleep, tensed up, arm tightening around her stomach.

A minute later, they crept out. The door was ajar, just as they expected it to be. Inside, soft harp music was playing.

They exchanged silent looks. Once the music stopped, they waited a couple of minutes before going in. None of them wanted to confront the creature so suddenly.

The three-headed dog was fast asleep on the floor. The hatch was closed so Dorian had to lug it open. It thumped noisily against the floor.

They all winced, holding their breaths. The dog did not stir.

“Be more careful,” Cas hissed.

Dorian placed a hand on his hip, “it was heavy.”

“Let's hope no one heard that,” Zephyr said nervously. “C’mon, faster.”

“The drop seems far,” Cas said, and lowered himself down into the hole. “Wait here until I give the ‘okay’ for you to follow along.”

He let go and the boy plummeted down into the darkness. Exactly seven seconds later, Cas’ voice echoed up, “it's safe!”

Dorian said, “you go first so I can watch your back.”

Zephyr nodded and went down. The fall was longer than she expected and she landed on a pile of something soft.

Cas’ face was lit by his wand. He grinned at her and called up to Dorian to follow along. Zephyr glanced down at what she landed on. It was some sort of plant with long twines and lots of leaves that had broken their fall. But the plant seemed familiar…

Her eyes widened as the puzzle snapped into place.

She screeched, “get out!” And launched herself out, but the twines had already gripped her legs.

Cas struggled as well, but he was trapped, “shit! Dorian, don't—”

Thump.

Dorian popped his head out from underneath the plant leaves, “sorry, you were saying?”

“Devil’s Snare!” She cried. “Get out, quick!”

In a flash, Dorian had rolled out, barely loose enough to slip away. The plant had gotten her and Cas good now, tightening around their stomachs.

“How do we get out?” Cas’ voice was strained.

“Fire!” Zephyr said, coughing as the vines snaked around her neck. “It's scared of fire.”

A second later, Cas and Dorian’s wands began to glow (well, Cas’ body began to glow, given he was already cocooned), and the plant recoiled from them. Zephyr and Cas were dropped to the ground.

“Are you okay?” Cas sprung to her side. “I’m sorry, I’m so stupid! I was so excited that I didn't think that everything was a trap.”

“It's okay,” she sat up, groaning. “My bones…”

Dorian snickered and helped her up. “Let's go before the floor eats us.”

“Dear lord, not even I could fight the floor,” Cas said, grinning.

They began cautiously down a stone corridor. Water dripped from the cellar, creating puddles on the floor. The passage sloped downwards and they had to clutch the walls to stop from slipping down.

“Wait!” Hissed Dorian as they approached the end of the hallway. “I hear something.”

It was sort of a metallic rustling sound, like pages made of tin foil being flipped in a book.

They reached the end of the passageway and saw before them a brilliantly lit chamber, its ceiling arching high above them. It was full of small, jewel-bright birds, fluttering and tumbling all around the room. On the opposite side of the chamber was a heavy wooden door.

“Er,” Cas said, gazing upwards. “Those birds do seem very sparkly.”

“They’re not birds. They’re keys with wings.” Dorian said, frowning.

“Indeed they are,” Cas agreed. “I bet one of them unlocks that door.”

“Do you think they attack?” Zephyr asked.

“What are they going to do?” Cas scoffed. “They’re keys.”

“They could poke our eyes out!” Zephyr protested.

“Look, broomsticks. Let’s race to see who gets the right key first,” Cas said gleefully, sprinting towards the door.

“This place has been entered several times before, so the key would be damaged,” Dorian said hands stuffed into his pocket.

Zephyr groaned and headed for a broomstick. She was useless on them. Cas was the first to take off to the skies. He soared upwards, the keys scattering as he approached.

Dorian followed behind, his ascend just as graceful as the other boy. Zephyr kicked off, too, after several seconds of hesitation.

The three of them flew to the sky, causing the keys to scatter in a flurry of panicked metal. Zephyr feared one would take her eyes out, so she began her search halfheartedly.

Cas was hovering there, eyes fixed on the keys. Then, Dorian exclaimed. Zephyr whipped her head around, her broom wavering precariously. Dorian grinned at them, waving his fist in the air. He was clutching a large metal key, its wings still beating against his head in a frugal attempt to escape.

“You're too slow, Blackthorn,” jeered Dorian, always eager to one-up Cas in something.

Cas scowled, “whatever. You just got lucky—”

Then, everything went wrong.

Dorian had loosened his grip on his broom, distracted by Cas bickering. The key nearly escaped and he lurched for it. He leaned too far and toppled off.

None of them reacted fast enough. He plummeted for what felt like a second before he landed on the ground. There was an audible snap! and his screams echoed hauntingly across the room.

Cas and her shot for Dorian. He was curled in onto himself, shaking like a lead.

“Oh, shit, fuck, Dorian,” Cas’ eyes were wide with panic. His hands floated above him, not knowing what to do. “Shit!”

“Can we see your arm?” Zephyr asked gently, hands shaking

It took a minute of coxing to get him to unfurl himself. His wrist was at an odd angle and was already swelling up.

“Shit,” Cas kept eye contact with Dorian. Zephyr could see the fear and helplessness in his eyes. “I’ll fix this…I’ll—where's my wand?”

Zephyr glanced around. “Did you drop it?”

“It must have fell out of my pocket when I…Zephyr, use the healing spell we learnt that day with the trolls,” Cas said desperately.

Her face fell, “you learned it. I didn't.”

“Fuck!” Cried Cas. His fringe covered his face, making him look feral.

“Cas,” Dorian said firmly through his tears. “We need to go on.”

“You're hurt! For fucks sake, we need to get you help now,” Cas snapped, jaw ticking.

“Quirrell will get to the stone and there may not be a tomorrow,” Zephyr said, taking a deep breath. “We need to continue.”

Dorian nodded, a false calm settling over his features. Zephyr could tell he was forcing it because he had no choice but to be the rational one at the moment.

“You will stay behind us,” Cas said after a moment. She could see the gears in his head spinning rapidly. “Let us take the blows. You stay safe.”

“Cas, don't treat me like a kid,” Dorian gritted out. “I have two hands.”

“Fine.” Cas helped him up. “But just take extra care.”

Together they stumbled into the next room. Cas made sure to stomp on the key before he released it back into the air. It struggled to get up, wings broken by his anger.

The next chamber was so dark they couldn’t see anything at all. The three of them exchanged looks of caution.

As they stepped into it, light suddenly flooded the room to reveal an astonishing sight.They were standing on the edge of a huge chessboard, behind the black chessmen, which were all taller than they were and carved from what looked like black stone.

Facing them, way across the chamber, were the white pieces. All of the pieces were faceless, making them look straight out of a nightmare.

Behind the white pieces they could see another door.

“Chess,” Cas choked out a laugh. “That’s what we played when we first met, remember?”

“Yeah,” Zephyr was too shaken up to think properly.

Cas was too fired up from earlier as well, so it was up to Dorian.

“I guess we’re chess pieces,” the blond said, hugging his arm to his chest.

He walked up to a black knight and put his hand out to touch the knight’s horse. At once, the stone sprang to life. The horse pawed the ground and the knight turned his helmeted head to look down at Dorian.

“Can we take any piece’s place?” Dorian asked.

The knight nodded. Dorian’s cold eyes swept across the room and took everything in. He was Dorian Harlot, the rich, deadly wizard. A deadly calm settled over him and he looked at Cas.

His tone was harsh as he spoke, “I need you to focus. Become Casspian Blackthorn. If you want to get me help anytime soon, I need you to put away any feelings you have and aim to win.”

Cas shut his eyes, breathing in deeply. His head tilted back as he exhaled, his breath visible. Then, a couple of seconds later, he opened them again. His gaze was cold and emotionless. It was exactly how he looked at Zephyr the day they met.

“Take the place of the castle, Zephyr,” Cas said. “Dorian, be the knight. I’ll be the bishop.”

At his words, the three pieces turned and walked off the board. The three of them shuffled into place.

“White goes first,” Cas called to them.

Sure enough, a white pawn moved forward two squares.

Cas moved four diagonally and quickly called out a move to the other stone chess piece.

Then, their other knight was taken. The white queen smashed him to the floor and dragged him off the board, where he lay quite still, facedown.

They all stared at the broken pieces, then at each other. Cas faltered for a second, then firmly, he told Zephyr to take the bishop.

Every time one of their men was lost, the white pieces showed no mercy. Soon there was a huddle of limp black players slumped along the wall.

Cas was just as brutal. He darted around the board, taking almost as many white pieces as they had lost black ones. He even kicked several. Then, he came to a stop before the queen.

“Couple more," Cas whispered. "But...no, there has to be another way.."

The white queen turned her blank face toward him.

"No," Zephyr's eyes widened as she scanned the board.

It couldn't be. He had to...

“Oh. Damn. Fuck.” said Cas softly, “it’s the only way. I’ve got to be taken.”

There was a pause as Zephyr's heart plummeted down at his confirmation. She knew it, but she had been desperately praying Cas was smart enough to figure out an alternative.

"No!” Zephyr cried.

“Zeph', if she takes me, Dorian can checkmate the damned king and we win.”

“But we need you,” Dorian said, eyes wide.

“I don't have my wand,” Cas said, eyes bright with fear. “You do. We’ve done many practice duels; you’re nearly as fast as me. You have to. Keep Zephyr safe.”

“Okay,” Dorian nodded firmly. “I can do that.”

Zephyr shook her head, “Cas, please, listen. He’s hurt. And you'll be, too."

Her chest was tight, she could barely breathe. She couldn't lose Cas.

“I know, and I’m sorry, Zeph’,” he said, mustering up his normal grin. “I’ll be okay. Go on, stop Quirrell, keep each other safe.”

With that, the boy stepped forward, and the white queen pounced. She struck Cas hard across the head with her stone arm, and he crashed to the floor. Zephyr muffled a sob as the white queen dragged him to one side.

Cas was completely still, so still Zephyr nearly ran over to check on him.

"No, Zeph'," Dorian called out. "You move and we lose."

Shaking, Dorian moved three spaces to the left.

The white king took off his crown and threw it at Dorian’s feet. They had won. The chessmen parted and bowed, leaving the door ahead clear.

Zephyr couldn't move. Dorian hooked an arm around her waist and gently led her from the room.

"Let me go to him," she struggled against his grip.

Dorian hauled her back, "we don't have time. Every second counts. Cas wanted us to move on. We have to."

Zephyr took a deep breath, wiping her face. He was right.

“What’s next?” She asked, forcing her emotions aside.

“We’ve had Sprout’s, that was the Devil’s Snare; Flitwick must’ve put charms on the keys; McGonagall transfigured the chessmen to make them alive; that leaves Quirrell’s spell, and Snape’s.”

They had reached another door. Dorian paused, wand trembling and then pushed it open. A disgusting smell filled their nostrils, making both of them pull their robes up over their noses. Eyes watering, they saw, flat on the floor in front of them, a troll even larger than the one they had tackled, out cold with a bloody lump on its head.

“At least we don't have to deal with that,” Zephyr whispered.

Dorian nodded, “I have no house to put another statue in anyways.”

She cracked a smile at him as they crept past the creature. He was still trying to comfort her whilst being in pain.

She pulled open the next door, both of them terrified of what was next but there was nothing scary in there, just a table with seven differently shaped bottles standing on it in a line.

“Snape’s,” said Dorian. “I wish Cas was here. He has the book memorised. What do we have to do?”

They stepped over the threshold, and immediately a fire sprang up behind them in the doorway. It wasn’t ordinary fire either; it was purple. At the same instant, black flames shot up in the doorway leading onward. They were trapped.

“No way back,” Zephyr said quietly as she picked up a piece of parchment on the table. She read it out loud.

“Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind. Two of us will help you, whichever you would find. One among us seven will let you move ahead. Another will transport the drinker back instead. Two among our number hold only nettle wine. Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line.”

They grimaced.

“Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore, to help you in your choice, we give you these clues four: First, however slyly the poison tries to hide you will always find some on nettle wine’s left side; Second, different are those who stand at either end, but if you would move onward, neither is your friend; Third, as you see clearly, all are different size, neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides; Fourth, the second left and the second on the right are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight.”

“Well, that’s straightforward enough,” she said. “Both ends are poisonous. Second bottle at each end are the nettle wine. Therefore the one at the very end at the right is the one that send you back, then the nettle wine, then the poison. That makes the middle the safe one.”

“The smallest bottle? It isn't enough for the both of us,” Dorian said as realisation dawned on his face.

“I’ll go.”

“You can’t,” Dorian said, shaking his head.

“You can't,” Zephyr shot a look at his wrist. “Go get help for yourself and Cas. I have the highest chances.”

“I hate that you're right.”

“Go,” she groaned.

“I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

“How? The drink will be gone.”

“I’ll bring a professor,” Dorian reached for his bottle. “Use any and every spell necessary. You have no idea what he is.”

“Be safe,” he drank and hugged her tightly with one arm. Then, he ran back towards the other room, leaving her alone.

She took a deep breath. It was one thing going into danger with her friends, and another doing it alone. Zephyr was treading through shark-infested waters now.

She faced the purple flames and downed the bottle. Then, she walked into the final room.

Chapter 15: 1.14

Quirrell stood there, calmly smiling at her.

“I thought it would have been Potter or Blackthorn instead. I even would have settled for Harlot.”

“Excuse me?” Zephyr frowned, offended. “What's wrong with me?”

“No worries. I can use you to find your father. You may be of some use after all. You are much smarter than anyone realises,” Quirrell said coldly. “You figured me out first. How did you do it?”

“It was obvious.”

“Was it? I felt that no one would suspect p-p-poor, st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell.”

“We did.”

Quirrell snapped his fingers. Ropes sprang out of thin air and wrapped themselves tightly around Zephyr. It took everything in her not to cry out.

“You’re too nosy to live, Sylvester. Scurrying around
the school on Halloween like that, for all I knew you’d seen me coming to look at what was guarding the Stone.”

“You let the troll in?” Zephyr forced her heart to stop racing. “You should get in touch with Dorian’s parents in prison. I heard they love large statues.”

“Always the comedian, you Bloodtraitors. I have a special gift with trolls — you must have seen what I did to the one in the chamber back there?”

“Dorian said it was a shame he couldn't have it in his room.”

He continued on, ignoring her. “Unfortunately, while everyone else was running around looking for it, Snape, who already suspected me, went straight to the third floor to head me off — and not only did my troll fail to beat you to death, that three-headed dog didn’t even manage to bite Snape’s leg off properly. Now, wait quietly. I need to examine this interesting mirror.”

It was the Mirror of Erised. She struggled to recall what she knew about it. Her head was spinning a million miles an hour.

“To see how ugly you are, or to see your other face? Surely you can’t breathe from beneath the turban.”

Cas would have been proud of her snide jokes.

“This mirror is the key to finding the Stone,” Quirrell murmured, tapping his way around the frame. “Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this…but he’s in London…I’ll be far away by the time he gets back.”

All Zephyr could think of doing was to keep Quirrell talking and stop him from concentrating on the mirror.

“You know Cas could track you down in just hours. No matter how far you run, he’ll find you.”

“Casspian is not that powerful...I see the Stone…I’m presenting it to my master but where is it?”

“I’d love to chat with your master,” she said. “Or does he talk out of you…? How does it work? I think it's quite rude that he’s suffocating and completely in the darkness when you’re in school. I mean, how do you sleep? Does he get squished or do you? Or perhaps, you sleep on your side?”

Zephyr paused. “How does the toliet issue get solved? Or when he was feeding on the Unicorn, wasn't it difficult? I mean, his arms would be backwards…oh, the way you crawled that day makes sense now.”

She knew she was getting off track now, but she was genuinely curious.

“My master is hard to please. He is very strong and I am very weak,” fear flittered over his face.

“I met him when I travelled around the world. A
foolish young man I was then, full of ridiculous ideas about good and evil. Lord Voldemort showed me how wrong I was. There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it. Since then, I have served him faithfully, although I have let him down many times. He has had to be very hard on me.” Quirrell shivered suddenly. “He does not forgive mistakes easily. When I failed to steal the Stone from Gringotts, he was most displeased. He punished me and decided he would have to keep a closer watch on me. . . .”

“Where did your hair go?” She blurted out. “Or did he take it? Or were you bald?”

“Quirrell cursed under his breath. “I don’t understand. Is the Stone inside the mirror? Should I break it?”

Zephyr’s mind was racing. She knew if she looked into the mirror, she’d find the stone as well. That was what she wanted most, at the moment. Or, perhaps, she'd see Cas.

She tried to edge to the left, to get in front of the glass without Quirrell noticing, but the ropes around her ankles were too tight: she tripped and fell over. Quirrell ignored her. She groaned on the ground, face hot from embarrassment. Great, she was a mess in front of the darkest, most powerful villain. She sure made a great impression.

He was still talking to himself. “What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!”

And to her slight amusement, a (rather muffled) voice answered, “use the girl. Use the girl…”

Quirrell rounded on Zephyr. “Yes! Sylvester— come here.”

“I’m a bit tied up at the moment.”

He clapped his hands once, and the ropes binding Zephyr fell off.

She got slowly to her feet. "Thanks."

“Come here,” Quirrell repeated. “Look in the mirror and tell me what you see.”

Zephyr walked toward him. All she had to do was lie. It couldn't be that hard. Quirrell moved close behind her. She closed her eyes, stepped in front of the mirror, and opened them again.

Zephyr saw her own reflection, pale and scared-looking at first. But a moment later, the reflection smiled at her. It put its hand into its pocket and pulled out a blood-red stone. It winked and put the Stone back in its pocket — and as it did so, Zephyr felt something heavy drop into her real pocket. Somehow she’d gotten the Stone.

“Well?” said Quirrell impatiently. “What do you see?”

“I see myself with Casspian.” She said, forcing herself to sound full of awe. “I…we’re married.”

Zephyr had no clue where that came from but surely it was believable enough.

Quirrell cursed again. “Get out of the way,” he said.

Zephyr moved aside and felt the Sorcerer’s Stone against her leg. Dare she make a break for it?

But she hadn’t walked five steps before a high voice spoke, though Quirrell wasn’t moving his lips.

“She lies…she lies.”

Was his master only capable of speaking in twos? She felt a nervous laugh bubble up her throat.

“Come back here!” Quirrell shouted. “Tell me the truth! What did you just see?”

The high voice spoke again. "Let me speak to her, face-to-face.”

“Good,” she snapped. “I’d like to request an audience. Finally, the coward has enough balls to see me!”

“Master, you are not strong enough!”

“I have enough strength for this.”

Petrified, Zephyr watched as Quirrell reached up and began to unwrap his turban. The turban fell away.

Quirrell’s head looked strangely small without it. Then he turned slowly on the spot. Zephyr nearly screamed. Even prior knowledge didn't prepare her for what was to come.

Where there should have been a back to Quirrell’s head, there was a face. It was chalk white with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake.

“That solves the breathing issue,” Zephyr said weakly. “There's a gap.”

“Zephyr Sylvester-Lee,” it whispered.

“See what I have become?” the face said. “Mere
shadow and vapour. I have form only when I can share another’s body but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds. Unicorn blood has strengthened me, these past weeks…you saw faithful Quirrell drinking it for me in the forest and once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own. Now, why don’t you give me that Stone in your pocket?”

So he knew. Panic shot through her. All her ability to joke was washed away in an instant. She was a rabbit watching the wolf prowl towards her.

"Finder's keepers, losers weepers," she managed to get out weakly as she backed away.

“Don’t be a fool,” snarled the face. “Better save your own life and join me.”

He reached for her.

What happened next was one of her proudest moments. She was on fight or flight mode, and she had nowhere to run, so she did the only thing she could.

Zephyr socked Voldermort as hard as she could in the eye. Quirrell stumbled back, with his partner’s face screwed up in agony.

She booked it towards the purple flames.

“Seize her!” Cried Voldermort.

His hand closed around her arm but she was already crying out a spell. It was dumb to cast any spells against the most powerful dark wizard to exist. But, she knew he was already weak and even more thrown off by her punch.

“Bombarda Maxima!”

The explosion took both of them out. Quirrell was flung across the room. Zephyr cried out as fire enveloped her.

Then, darkness consumed her.

—

Cas was the first person she saw when she woke. She was in the infirmary, surrounded by her two friends and Professor Dumbledore.

“These two refused to leave your side. They nearly hexxed Professor Snape when he came to bring them to class,” Dumbledore said, smiling down at her.

“Am I dead?” She blurted out, sitting up.

Cas grinned, eyes filled with tears, “no, but you knocked Quirrell out cold.”

“We arrived in time to stop Quirrell from getting back up. In fact, we had to stop Casspian from killing him,” Professor Dumbledore explained. “He was waking up. I feared I might be too late.”

“You nearly were, I couldn’t have kept him off the
Stone much longer—”

“Not the Stone, you. The effort involved nearly killed you. For one terrible moment there, I was afraid it had. As for the Stone, it has been destroyed.”

“Destroyed?” said Zephyr repeated blankly. “But your friend, Nicolas Flamel—”

“Oh, you know about Nicolas?” said Dumbledore, sounding delighted. “You researched it properly, didn’t you? Well, Nicolas and I have had a little chat, and agreed it’s all for the best.”

“But that means he and his wife will die, won’t
they?”

“They have enough Elixir stored to set their affairs in order and then, yes, they will die.”

“To one as young as you, I’m sure it seems incredible, but to Nicolas and Perenelle, it really is like going to bed after a very, very long day. After all, to the well-organised mind, death is but the next great adventure. You know, the Stone was really not such a wonderful thing. As much money and life as you could want! The two things most human beings would choose above all — the trouble is, humans do have a knack of choosing precisely those things that are worst for them.”

Zephyr gaped at him, then at her two friends who seemed to be still processing that she was awake.

Dumbledore hummed a little and smiled at the ceiling.

“He was looking for Harry, not me,” Zephyr said.

“Harry and his friends were stuck in the potion room. You took the last bit and they couldn't progress. Dorian found us and brought us to you. Casspian joined us when he woke.”

“Voldemort will come back for me, won't he?” She asked, sighing.

“He will, but not anytime soon. You are safe for now. I’ll let you have some time with your friends now.”

Dumbledore left. Cas waited until he was out of sight before he broke down, resting his head against her arm.

“You had horrible burns everywhere. You were an inch from death when we found you,” Cas sobbed.

Zephyr ran a hand through his hair fondly, “I’m okay now.”

Dorian laughed without humour, “I’m glad. You should have seen Cas when we found you motionless. He went crazy. I’ve never seen him so angry. He killed Quirrell, and continued to curse his corpse. We had to take his wand from him but the damage had been done. Quirrell was unrecognisable; torn to bloody shreds.”

Cas sniffled and lifted his head. His grey eyes were bloodshot and his face was thinner than she’d ever seen. “I just lost it, you know?”

“I know,” she squeezed his hand.

“Tell us everything,” Dorian sat down on the chair beside her bed, crossing his legs.

She closed her eyes for a moment to collect her thoughts. Her head still felt a bit fuzzy. Then, everything came back to her and she muffled her laughter.

“So, after I entered the room, he was looking into the Mirror of Erised to try to find the stone but it refused to show him how to get it. He tied me up using ropes and then forced me to see into the mirror,” she began.

“The mirror gave me the stone and I lied to him about what I saw. But Voldermort knew I lied and chased after me. I then…kind of…punched the Dark Lord in the face. Then, I set him on fire.”

The two boys stared at her. Then, Cas burst into giggles. The three of them lost it.

“You did what?” Dorian gasped as he clutched her bedsheets.

“I panicked, alright? It was the only thing I could think of at the moment!” She said, grinning.

“I am incredibly proud of you,” Cas said, brushing a tear from his eyes. “That was the coolest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Chapter 16: 1.15

Summary:

So it's been a while since I've posted...not to fret, though. I've been working hard on my beautiful Bloodtraitors and finished not only the first book, but the second as well. The third is still in progress...but here, have some more of them. I'll continue updating with the next book soon enough. I think I'll add it to this specific book instead of creating a new one, so stay tuned here.

Zephyr made her way down to the end-of-year feast alone that night. She had been held up by
Madam Pomfrey’s fussing about, insisting on giving her one last checkup, so the Great Hall was already full. Cas and Dorian had been shooed out hours ago.

It was decked out in the Slytherin colours of green and silver to celebrate Slytherin’s winning the House Cup for the seventh year in a row. A huge banner showing the Slytherin serpent covered the wall behind the High Table.

When Zephyr walked in there was a sudden hush, and then everybody started talking loudly at once. She slipped into her seat beside Cas and across from Dorian. They grinned at her and Cas mimicked punching someone.

Fortunately, Dumbledore arrived moments later before the three of them could get too carried away mocking Voldemort. The babble died away.

“Another year gone!” Dumbledore said cheerfully. “And I must trouble you with an old man’s wheezing
waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were. You have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts. . . .”

“Now, as I understand it, the House Cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two.”

A storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the Slytherin table. The three of them didn't really care.

“Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin,” said Dumbledore.
“However, recent events must be taken into
account.”

The room went very still.

“Ahem,” said Dumbledore. “I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes…to Casspian Blackthorn, I will award fifty points for playing the greatest chess game in the history of Hogwarts.”

More cheers from their table.

Cas groaned, “is it necessary?”

“To Dorian Harlot, I will award fifty points for being brave in the face of danger.”

Dorian looked disgusted, “that's all I get? In the fade of danger? Rubbish.”

“And to Zephyr Sylvester-Lee, I will award sixty points for pure nerve and outstanding courage.”

The applause was deafening. People were clapping, not for the house, but for them.

“Slytherin takes the house cup again!”

—

“One,” Cas said, holding his report card face down.

“Two,” Dorian continued, hands shaking.

“Three!” Zephyr exclaimed and they flipped the sheet of paper.

“No! I’m ranked two!” Dorian groaned.

“Ha-ha! First place baby!” Cas cheered, throwing his hands into the air. “Zeph’?”

“Fourth,” she sighed, tossing her paper onto the table. “Damn.”

“It's fine. You punched Voldemort in the face. That itself is the biggest achievement,” Cas said, laughing.

By the end of the week, all their stuff was cleared out and they were on the train back to Zephyr’s house for the summer.

“God,” Cas said as they opened the door. “I can't wait to have some cup noodles again.”

“Is that how you’d like to spend the holidays, Blackthorn?” Dorian asked dryly. “Eating noodles?”

“Yep,” Cas grinned at them. “Eating noodles and spending time with you two.”

Chapter 17: 2.1

Zephyr Sylvester glanced behind her and sighed heavily. The two boys had disappeared yet again. She was honestly getting tired of babysitting the two most dangerous wizards of their age.

Casspian Blackthorn and Dorian Harlot were regarded as royalty. They had taken down two of the largest clans of Dark Wizards before they turned fourteen. They were years ahead of everyone at their school, the famous Hogwarts, topping nearly every subject.

Yet, they had to be under constant watch. The three of them had spent the summer together. She took them to New York and several other tourist attractions, and pretty much lost them every single time.

Now, they were back-to-school shopping in Diagon Alley, and they had wandered off god-knows-where.

Honestly, it didn't matter much. They’ll eventually appear. She just hoped they didn't explode something in the meantime.

Next on her shopping list were her school textbooks. The shop, Flourish and Blotts, was surprisingly crowded. Outside was a sign that said “GILDEROY LOCKHART will be signing copies of his autobiography: MAGICAL ME today at 12:30 P.M. to 4:30 P.M.”

She had no clue who that was, and frankly did not care, so she pushed her way inside, ignoring the protests from other shoppers. Her back to school shopping was not going to stop just because of some influencer.

There was a line of middle aged women queuing to get signatures from a blond-haired man. Zephyr scoffed softly and grabbed a copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2.

Then, she spotted the Weasley family, along with Harry; Hermione, and her parents. Grinning, Zephyr made her way over. She greeted the Grangers first, then fist bumped Harry. Ron seemed too focused on the front to notice her.

“What's all this?” Zephyr asked.

Ron jumped, “bloody hell, you scared me.”

“Hi-ya, Zeph!” Hermione greeted. “How was the holiday’s?”

“Fun,” she said, shrugging. “Who is he?”

“He wrote most of the books that are being taught this year,” Hermione said, her eyes bright.

Zephyr nodded, “cool, cool.”

Lockhart was wearing robes of forget-me-not blue that exactly matched his eyes; his pointed wizard’s hat was set at an angle on his wavy hair.

A short man was dancing around taking photographs with a large black camera that emitted puffs of purple smoke with every blinding flash.

“Out of the way, there,” he snarled at Ron, moving back to get a better shot. “This is for the Daily Prophet—”

“Big deal,” said Ron, rubbing his foot where the photographer had stepped on it.

Gilderoy Lockhart heard him. He looked up. He saw Ron, and then he saw Harry. He faltered, blinking for a couple of seconds.

Then he leapt to his feet and exclaimed, “it can’t be Harry Potter?”

The crowd parted, whispering excitedly; Lockhart dived forward, seized Harry’s arm, and pulled him to the front. The crowd burst into applause.

Then, Lockhart spotted her. His eyes brightened even further, “Zephyr Sylvester-Lee? I was a huge fan of your father!”

Her heart stopped.

He reached for her, and a pale hand clamped down on his wrist before he could touch her. Caspian Blackthorn pushed the man away lightly, his free hand tucked into his pocket.

Oh, thank God. Zephyr breathed a sigh of relief as the boy flashed her a grin.

“I think we would be more interesting on paper, right, Dorian?” Cas said casually.

Dorian Harlot set a book down, looking uninterested as always, “would we?”

“Want to make the front page, Lockhart? I’ll be delighted to help,” Cas stepped up, the photographer snapping pictures every second.

Cas did look good today. He wore a simple white tee, tucked into black jeans. His brown curls were unruly, making him look like he just got out of the shower. His grey eyes were feral and dark. Dorian was dressed like he just came from a business meeting–dress pants, button down shirt, sleek shoes.

Dorian’s blond hair was slicked back neatly, a few strands framing his sharp face. He looked as cold and posh as ever.

Everyone could tell the moment they saw them–they were the two most dangerous student wizards in Hogwarts.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said loudly, waving for everyone to be quiet. “What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I’ve been sitting on for some time!”

“When these young men here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, they only wanted to buy my autobiography which I shall be happy to present them now, free of charge—”

Both of her friends snorted at the same time. They were both filthy rich and could buy the store from the owner with ease.

The crowd applauded again.

“They had no idea,” Lockhart continued, giving Harry a little shake, “that they would shortly be getting much, much more than my book, Magical Me. They and their schoolmates will, in fact, be getting the real, magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!”

Cas coughed loudly and said, “come again?”

His confusion was drowned out by the cheers and thunderous claps from the audience. Cas and Dorian were present with a stack of books, but their simultaneous looks of disgust made the shopkeeper scurry away.

“This is stupid,” Dorian said, grabbing Zephyr’s arm and tugging her along. “Let's go.”

“You don't have to ask me twice,” Cas said and shuddered. “Lockhart touched my arm…does anyone have a wet wipe I could use? I feel violated. Oh, look, more drama.”

Draco, Harry and Ginny were standing by the door. Ginny looked downright terrified, and even squeaked a bit when the three of them approached.

“Bet you loved that, didn’t you, Potter?” said Draco, apparently in the middle of bullying the duo.

“Famous Harry Potter,” Malfoy continued. “Can’t even go into a bookshop without making the front page.”

“Leave him alone, he didn’t want all that!” Said Ginny, glaring at Malfoy.

“Potter, you’ve got yourself a girlfriend!” drawled Malfoy.

Ginny went scarlet as Ron and Hermione fought their way over, both clutching stacks of Lockhart’s books.

Zephyr said, stepping up, “shut up, Malfoy. Jealousy isn't pretty on you.”

Dorian smirked, “nothing ever is.”

“He wishes he could get a girl,” Cas added, also smiling.

Zephyr knew the two boys were toying with Draco for the fun of it. They weren't really angry, just two tigers playing with a cat toy for now.

“Oh, it’s you,” said Ron, looking at Malfoy as if he were something unpleasant on the sole of his shoe. “Bet you’re surprised to see Harry here, eh?”

“Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley,” retorted Malfoy. “I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for all those.”

Ron went as red as Ginny. He dropped his books into the cauldron, too, and started toward Malfoy, but Harry and Hermione grabbed the back of his jacket.

Cas and Dorian both shot Zephyr a pleading look. They wanted her permission to get involved but she shook her head. It wasn't their fight. They deflated like balloons.

“Ron!” said Mr Weasley, struggling over with Fred and George. “What are you doing? It’s too crowded here, let’s go outside.”

“Well, well, well, isn't it Arthur Weasley.” It was Mr Malfoy.

He stood with his hand on Draco’s shoulder, sneering in just the same way. Her two boys straightened, staring down the man, like dogs trying to establish dominance. Zephyr rolled her eyes.

“Lucius,” said Mr Weasley, nodding coldly.

“Busy time at the Ministry, I hear,” said Mr Malfoy. “All those raids. Tsk, I hope they’re paying you overtime?”

He reached into Ginny’s cauldron and extracted, from amid the glossy Lockhart books, a very old, very battered copy of A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration.

“Obviously not,” Mr. Malfoy said. “Dear me, what’s the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don’t even pay you well for it?”

Mr. Weasley flushed darker than either Ron or Ginny. Cas' jaw dropped and he elbowed Dorian, who gave him a 'what-do-you-want-me-to-do?' look.

“We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy,” he said.

“Clearly,” said Mr. Malfoy, his pale eyes straying to Hermione.

“The company you keep, Weasley," he trailed off. "And I thought your family could sink no lower—”

There was a thud of metal as Ginny’s cauldron went flying; Mr Weasley had thrown himself at Mr Malfoy, knocking him backward into a bookshelf.

Zephyr’s hands flew to cover her mouth, Dorian beamed broadly, Cas’ eyes flashed with dark satisfaction. Cas mimicked a upper cut into the air, apparently trying to coach Ron's father in the correct punching technique.

Dozens of heavy spellbooks came thundering down on all their heads; there was a yell of, “get him, Dad!” from Fred or George.

Mrs Weasley was shrieking, “no, Arthur, no!”

The crowd stampeded backward, knocking more shelves over. Cas tugged her towards him as one rather thick book nearly concussed her.

“Gentlemen, please — please!” Cried the assistant.

“Break it up, there, gents, break it up.” Hagrid was wading toward them through the sea of books.

In an instant he had pulled Mr Weasley and Mr Malfoy apart. Mr Weasley had a cut lip and Mr. Malfoy had been hit in the eye by an Encyclopedia of Toadstools. He was still holding Ginny’s old Transfiguration book.

He thrust it at her, his eyes glittering with malice, “here, girl, take your book, it’s the best your father can give you.”

Pulling himself out of Hagrid’s grip he beckoned to Draco. Before Draco could take two steps, Cas and Dorian were there, blocking his way. Her friends, although the same age, towered over the other boy.

“You’ll be our little project this year, Malfoy,” Cas said softly. “I can't wait for school to start.”

Draco paled but managed to scoff and shove by towards his father. Dorian watched them leave before quirking an eyebrow at Cas. They exchanged silent looks, something that infuriated Zephyr because she could not read it.

“Yeh should’ve ignored him, Arthur,” said Hagrid, almost lifting Mr. Weasley off his feet as he straightened his robes. “Rotten ter the core, the whole family, everyone knows that. No Malfoy’s worth listenin’ ter — bad blood, that’s what it is — come on now — let’s get outta here.”

The assistant looked as though he wanted to stop them leaving, but he barely came up to Hagrid’s waist and seemed to think better of it. They hurried up the street, the Grangers shaking with fright and Mrs Weasley beside herself with fury.

“A fine example to set for your children…brawling in public. What Gilderoy Lockhart must’ve thought—”

“He was pleased,” said Fred. “Didn’t you hear him as we were leaving? He was asking that bloke from the Daily Prophet if he’d be able to work the fight into his report—said it was all publicity —”

They stopped a couple shops down.

“Where are you three going after this?” Mrs Weasely asked them.

Cas said, all smiles and politeness now, “we’ll finish our shopping and then go back to Zephyr’s place.”

“Oh, of course! I don't want to keep you any longer! See you on the first day of school,” Mrs Weasely said.

They bid the group goodbye and left.

“I wonder where that rat went off to,” Dorian said, peeping into a shop that was selling broomsticks.

“We could probably see the shine from his hair gel from here,” Cas said, snorting. “Wow, is that the Nimbus 2001?”

“It is,” Dorian said, and then paused. “Should I…?”

“How much is it?” Zephyr asked, then rolled her eyes. “Like price matters to you.”

“There's a pink one, Zephyr!” Dorian beamed. “I’m getting us all one!”

“I do not need a broomstick,” Zephyr protested but it fell on deaf ears–the two boys were already inside the shop.

She groaned and followed them in.

“Is there a pure gold model?” Dorian asked, always trying to find a way to show off his wealth.

“We have gold, pink, red, green, blue and black,” the shop owner, a short man in a purple wizarding robe, replied.

“I’ll have pink, gold and…” Dorian glanced at Cas.

“Green,” Cas said.

“Pink, gold and green Nimbus 2001’s,” Dorian said, smiling widely.

“Bu-but, they’re 200 galleons each!”

Dorian pulled out three plastic bags of coins from his pocket, each containing a hundred galleons, and slid them over.

The shopkeeper counted them and then nodded slowly, “three Nimbus 2001’s coming up.”

“You are so materialistic,” Zephyr groaned.

“Hey, think of it as a ‘thank you’ for letting me crash at your place,” Dorian said easily.

The shopkeeper gave them three hefty brooms and they left, all grinning at their presents.

“Draco’s gonna have a heart attack when he sees it,” Cas chortled.

Zephyr nodded. Draco was definitely going to be furious.

Chapter 18: 2.2

The end of the holidays came faster than they hoped. The weeks leading up were spent lazing in the sun and flying around fields in the countryside far from any muggle eyes.

Zephyr learnt the basics of Quddich, and realised she was pretty good at riding the broom. Of course, the two boys were twice as fast and were more daring than her. They swooped each other and spiralled towards the ground before pulling up at the last minute, whooping excitedly.

The night before was spent in a flurry of panicked packing and searching for lost items.

“Where the hell did I leave my ties? Did you pack them by accident, Dorian?” Cas yelled from the living room.

Dorian called back from the kitchen where he chose to pack his stuff whilst sitting on the counter, “why would I?”

“Zeph?”

“Did not see them,” Zephyr said as she hunted down her robes. She had misplaced one.

“Oh, for fucks sake,” Cas groaned and then, “Accio ties!”

There was a loud thud… and, “you idiot! You summoned my ties that were in my bag!”

Zephyr peaked out from her room and saw Cas sprawled on the floor with Dorian’s trunk on him. She shook her head fondly. Dumbass.

In the end, just before midnight, they finished packing up and settled down to play some video games for the last time before leaving.

Finally, the day came. Zephyr’s mother bid them goodbye and they took the bus to King’s Cross Station. The three of them were given odd looks because of their broomsticks but they didn't really care.

They were barely on time due to traffic and had to sprint through the wall and onto the station platform about ten minutes before the train pulled away.

The students there gave them a wide berth as they walked, a mixture of fear and admiration on their faces.

Cas was infamous long before being at Hogwarts. He was the son of two dangerous Dark Wizards that had killed many people. He led the Ministry of Magic to their base and it had been the biggest arrest in ages. He was only ten at the time.

Dorian Harlot was the son of lesser known Dark Wizards. Last year, after finding out that his parents had killed his young brother, Faustus, he got them arrested as well. It was a huge ordeal, involving both Cas and Zephyr. They were all on the news for weeks after that.

Once they boarded the train, they found a cabin and settled down, all groaning.

“I’m going to take a nap,” Cas declared, and settled his head on her lap.

She ran a hand through his hair. Dorian offered her a candy and they began doing their own things, the brunette snoring peacefully on her lap.

—

Hours later, when the sky grew dark, and they had made their way through so many chocolates, they finally pulled up at the Hogwarts station.

“I wonder what stories the first years are already hearing about us,” Cas said, glancing up from a textbook. As soon as he woke up, he began studying.

“We’ll find out,” Dorian said with a shrug. “C’mon, let's go.”

The platform was filled with students. The year Ones were being led away by a different route into the school by Hargid whilst the other students walked through the forest.

It took a while, but because they were on school grounds and could finally use magic, they didn't have to lug their bags anymore.

“I really think Lockhart would be a horrible teacher,” Cas said as they rounded the corner. Their bags bobbed behind him.

Hogwarts came into view–a large castle with magnificent towers stretching to the night sky.

“He’d probably be focused on himself.” Zephyr said in agreement.

Dorian shrugged, “not like any of us pay attention in any class.”

“Speak for yourself,” Zephyr said. “I do.”

Hermione came running up to them, worry on her face. “Have you seen Harry and Ron? They weren't on the train!”

“We haven't seen them. Maybe they're in a different cabin?” Zephyr suggested.

The two boys weren't even paying attention. They were busy staring down fifth year students.

“Ginny said Ron and Harry didn't make it behind her through the barrier. Do you think…they're back at the platform?”

Dorian’s gaze snapped to them, suddenly interested. He didn't say anything but gave Cas a look.

Cas frowned and Dorian lazily looked up at the sky for a brief moment. Throughout the holidays, the two of them had learnt to communicate wordlessly. It drove Zephyr insane.

The other boy began grinning wildly, “found them.”

All of them glanced up. There, far into the distance, just a moving speck like a plane, was what seemed to be a flying car.

“Oh, Merlin’s Beard,” Hermione said faintly.

“Well, we can't do much,” Dorian said with a shrug and continued towards Hogwarts. “They’ll figure it out. C’mon, I’m starving.”

“How are you hungry? You ate all my chips on the train,” Cas argued, following behind.

“You mean ‘crisps’.”

“No, chips.”

“What do you call them, Zeph’?” Dorian asked.

Zephyr blinked, still watching the sky as the car lurched and began to spiral, “er, chips.”

“But chips are what come with burgers!” Dorian said in exasperation.

Cas snorted, “no, those are fries. French fries.”

“What do the French have to do with chips anyways?” Dorian entered Hogwarts, dodging a bunch of students who were reuniting with their friends.

“Well,” Zephyr said, “they were discovered in Belgium during World War II by American soldiers. Since French was the primary language spoken in Belgium, it was dubbed as ‘French Fries’.”

The two boys gave her strange looks. Dorian asked, “and why do you know this?”

She shrugged. She didn't remember exactly where she learnt it, but she had a pretty good memory.

They made their way to the Great Hall and found their seats. As usual, no one sat close to them, giving them a wide berth despite the Slytherin table being quite crowded.

Soon enough, the doors flew open and Professor McGonalgal led the first years in. They were all bug-eyed and terrified, looking around at the crowd watching them.

One of them, however, drew her attention. He was taller than all the other first years and had a shock of ginger hair. The boy had a dainty nose, sharp cheekbones, intense green eyes. He was slim, tanned and built like a runner. He both walked the exact way Cas and Dorian did; with purpose and like he owned the place.

Zephyr knew he was a rich snob.

Gryffindors gave the new students welcoming grins while Slytherins sneered and jeered at them. Once all of the first years, several hundred students, reached the front of the hall, they lined up behind the Sorting Hat that sat on its wooden stool.

The Sorting Hat started its welcoming song, pulling gasps from the first years. The boy looked detached and like he would have rather have been anywhere but where he were.

“Who is he?” Zephyr asked Cas in a whisper, leaning closer.

The boy was frowning. “I don't know.”

They both glanced at Dorian who shook his head as well. The three of them focused back on the Sorting.

“Where’s Snape?” Zephyr suddenly realised that his chair at the front was empty.

“No clue,” Cas said, uninterested. “Who cares? He’s up!”

“Arnoux, Matthias!”

The boy stepped up to the stool and sat down, jamming the hat on his head. The hat was still for a moment and then, with absolute certainty, shouted, “Slytherin!”

Their table exploded into cheers and the boy made his way over. He examined the large empty space between everyone and the three of them, and sat down with Draco Malfoy and his gang.

“I know who he is,” Dorian said grimly. “Arnoux. His mother is a famous killer in Europe. Hundreds of wizarding families were murdered. His father was recently given custody of Matthias when his mother was arrested. His family is from a long line of Legilimens. He should be in the second year.”

“What’s a Legilimen?” Zephyr asked.

“People who can navigate others' minds, recover hidden memories. Pretty cool, but makes a great interrogation method.”

“Another Bloodtraitor among us?” Cas asked, grinning wildly.

“It seems so,” Zephyr said with a yawn. “Can the Sorting be done already?”

It finished soon enough, with no other student standing out. Draco and Matthias were whispering frantically as they shot glances their way.

“I wanna wave at them,” Cas said with forced joviality. He was getting pissed off.

“Leave it,” Dorian said as he piled on Kimchi over his rice. “They're not worth it. We’re like ancient artifacts in a museum. People like to ogle but they know they can't touch us.”

“Who the hell are you calling ancient?” Cas grumbled.

“It was a metaphor, Blackthorn.”

“Well, I’d appreciate it if you didn't call me old, metaphorically or not.”

“You are older than everyone in our year,” Zephyr added just to tease Cas a bit more.

“Urgh, not you too, Zeph’.” He grinned at her.

“I hope this year goes better than last year. Or, at least, is less eventful,” Zephyr said.

The two boys groaned at her words.

Dorian said with a sigh, “you jinxed us.”

“It’ll be so boring,” Cas said, his reaction completely different from the other boy.

She shrugged. “I didn't jinx anything. In fact, you two put us into these situations. It's just a cold, hard fact.”

“Ouch, I didn't know you thought so lowly of me,” Cas clutched at his chest dramatically.

“No one thinks highly of you, Bloodtraitor,” Dorian said with a roll of his eyes.

Cas frowned at them. They ignored him.

Dinner finished pretty fast and soon, they made their way to their Common Room. Their new password was much better than their previous year’s one.

Cas even grinned a bit when Hills, their longtime enemy, said, “Polyjuice!” And the door swung open.

Zephyr’s roommates were the same as last year. The four girls and her were on decent terms. They weren't particularly close but they didn't hate her like most of their year did, so she was pretty fine with living with them.

None of them really spoke to each other as they unpacked and got ready for bed. Once eleven hit, they shut off their lights and Zephyr was gone the moment her head hit her pillow.

Chapter 19: 2.3

“STEALING THE CAR, I WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY’D EXPELLED YOU, YOU WAIT TILL I GET HOLD OF YOU, I DON’T SUPPOSE YOU STOPPED TO THINK WHAT YOUR FATHER AND I WENT THROUGH WHEN WE SAW IT WAS GONE…”

“Oh, dear,” Cas said with a yawn. “Someone’s fucked.”

Dorian was covering his ears with a wince. “God, it's too early for this.”

“Imagine how Ron feels,” Zephyr said.

Mrs. Weasley’s yells, a hundred times louder than usual, made the plates and spoons rattle on the table, and echoed deafeningly off the stone walls. People throughout the hall were swiveling around to see who had received the Howler.

“WHEN I RECIEVED THE LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME, WE DIDN’T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU AND HARRY COULD BOTH HAVE DIED—”

“Can you imagine if my parents did this to me,” Dorian snorted. “God, I’d just pass away in my seat.”

“Well, thank god they’re in prison now,” Cas said with a grin.

“I AM ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED—YOUR FATHER’S FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK, IT’S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT AND IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE WE’LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT BACK HOME.”

Laughter rippled through the hall as the Howler fell silent and people resumed their conversations.

Snape dropped a piece of paper onto her empty plate and continued on without a word. It was her schedule.

“First class is double Transfiguration with Ravenclaw. God, that sucks.”

Cas said, “this year’s syllabus is boring.”

“Everything is boring to you.”

“That's the truth,” Dorian said and they set off to their next class.

Professor McGonagall’s lesson was easy. Since it was a new year, they were allowed to choose where they sat and who they sat with. Dorian, Cas and her picked the bench at the back, much to the disapproval of their teacher. However, she knew if any of them were separated from each other to be paired with a random student, it would be even more chaotic.

They were taught how to transform a beetle into a black button. Cas succeeded casting the spell non-verbally on his first try, which everyone expected, and was then tasked to transform the button into several different animals as a way to keep him occupied.

Dorian was the second fastest to master the spell. It took less than five tries to turn the beetle into a satisfactory button.

Zephyr needed about ten minutes to finish as well. Soon, they were edging Cas on to turn his beetle into a different animal.

The lesson ended an hour later, after a particular incident where Cas had to chase a beetle-turned mouse around the room.

After lunch, they had some free time to wander around. Dorian had the brilliant idea of showing off their new brooms, so Cas and him got theirs out to take a stroll. Zephyr just followed behind, rolling her eyes at everyone gawking.

Soon enough, they were seated at their usual spot beneath the tree, overlooking the lake.

“Nice brooms.”

The three of them turned to look. It was the new boy, Matthias. His hands were tucked into his pockets as he strolled towards them.

Cas raised a dark eyebrow at him, scowling. “What do you want?”

“Nothing,” Matthias leaned against the tree, observing them for a second. “Just saying hi.”

“Go back to your Draco,” Dorian scoffed. “You were all buddy-buddy yesterday.”

“Were we? I knew him from before I joined. He was the only familiar face, that's all,” Matthias said with a shrug. “Besides, he bores me. All he ever talks about is his father.”

He spoke the same way the two boys did–arrogantly and full of disdain.

“And what makes you so sure we aren't the same? Why even approach us?” Cas asked, gray eyes hard.

“Because I don't fear you like everyone else does. Because I’m the son of a murderer, too,” he said, smiling coldly.

“We're Bloodtraitors, we’re the scum of Slytherin,” Dorian said, standing. “You are only the son of a murderer.”

“That makes it sound like my family is normal,” Matthias gave an emotionless laugh. “I was the outcast of my old school in France.”

“And, what, you want to be friends with other outcasts?” Cas asked, rolling his eyes. “Save it, Arnoux. You're nothing like us.”

“How about her then, Blackthorn?” Matthias nodded towards Zephyr who tensed. “She’s not an outcast. She came here with no blood on her hands.”

“Leave Zephyr out of it.” Dorian snarled.

“Relax,” the boy said. “I’m not picking on her. In fact, I think she’s incredibly interesting.”

Matthias held out a hand to Zephyr. Cas looked like he wanted to bite him but Dorian gave him a warning glance.

Hesitantly, Zephyr shook his hand.

“Matthias Arnoux. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said. “My father is a private investigator who took a special interest in your father’s disappearance.”

Zephyr’s heart leapt. “You know something about my father?”

“I may.”

“Well, then spit it out,” Cas said, head tilted.

Matthias smiled. “I heard he was seen in Switzerland. You did hear of the house of Wizards being set ablaze, I believe?”

“No, we did not,” Cas said.

“Speak for yourself,” Dorian said, stretching his arms. “I did. Five dead right? Dark mark left behind as well.”

“That is correct. My father is the lead investigator in the case. He spotted your father briefly.”

“And then?” She asked eagerly.

“And then, he was gone.”

Zephyr deflated, sighing heavily. She had no leads on her father once again. Everywhere she looked, it led her to a dead end.

“I can keep you updated, if you wish,” Matthias said, twirling his wand across his pale fingers.

“What do you want in return?” Cas raised his brows. “This is not free information. Do you want money?”

“No,” Matthias said, staring out across the field. He seemed troubled. “I want protection.”

They exchanged bewildered looks.

Dorian asked, “from what?”

“My mother and uncle. They escaped from the custody of the Ministry whilst being transported to Askaban. My father has a team of Aurors looking after him. I was transferred here for safety but I heard that they are looking for me. My mother is insane and dangerous and wants me dead. She believes that I will ruin the bloodline because I do not share her love for murder.”

Cas’ eyes brightened. Zephyr knew that his interest had peaked.

“You three are known amongst all wizarding folk for being deadly. You took down two of the largest clans of dark wizards. You took down Voldemort. People across the world fear your names. Especially Blackthorn. All of you are known for your ruthlessness and ability to perform spells better than even Aurors.”

“So that's your offer?” Cas asked, folding his arms. “Your information for our protection? You do realise the moment you are seen with us, your reputation goes down the drain. You become scum.”

“I already am,” Matthias’ eyes were shadowed. “I’d rather be scum than dead.”

“In that case, Arnoux, welcome to the Bloodtraitors,” Cas said, smiling. There was no humor behind it. “But, step a toe out of line, especially with Zephyr, and we will hand deliver you to your mother.”

“I understand,” Matthias said.

Zephyr was jaw slacked. She stared at Cas and then at Dorian, who merely shrugged.

“So, Arnoux, where are you on your education?” Dorian changed the subject.

The tension in the air fizzled and died away.

“Decent.”

“As good as us?”

“Almost there.”

“Good. We’ll make you better than everybody in this school.” Cas said.

—-

Zephyr never knew there were so many versions of Cas running around. Dorian was already a surprise. Underneath all the rich boy acts, he was made of the same fiercely loyal, protective material.

Matthias fit in perfectly with her two boys. He was as cold as winter and harsh like the sun. He didn't hold back his words. The three boys had a field day tearing each other apart verbally, but were all incredibly kind to her.

He seemed to understand that he could say whatever he wanted to the boys but the moment he raised his voice at Zephyr, he was dead.

Matthias was very polite, much to her delight. He held the door for her without even thinking, allowed her to walk first and was always respectful when he spoke to her. He did exactly what the boys wanted him to do–he kept in line.

Their next class was Herbology. As they neared the greenhouses they saw the rest of the class standing outside, waiting for Professor Sprout. She came striding into view across the lawn, accompanied by Gilderoy Lockhart.

“Who brought the dog?” Cas said, annoyance on his face.

“He cornered me for an interview this morning. I couldn't even get to the Dining hall before he found me,” Matthias said, groaning.

Professor Sprout’s arms were full of bandages. She was a squat little witch who wore a patched hat over her flyaway hair; there was usually a large
amount of earth on her clothes and her fingernails were crusted with mud.

Gilderoy Lockhart, however, was immaculate in sweeping robes of turquoise, his golden hair shining under a perfectly positioned turquoise hat with gold trimming.

“Oh, hello there!” he called, beaming around at the assembled students. “Just been showing Professor Sprout the right way to doctor a Whomping Willow! But I don’t want you running away with the idea that I’m better at Herbology than she is! I just happen to have met several of these exotic plants on my travels…”

“Wow,” Dorian said. “I hate him even more.”

“Greenhouse three today, chaps!” said Professor Sprout, looking increasingly pissed off.

“Let's make a bet,” Cas said, grinning. “Who is he going to call: me, Dorian or Matthias?”

“My money’s on Matthias,” Zephyr said, yawning. “He had enough of you two the other day.”

There was a murmur of interest. They had only ever worked in greenhouse one before– greenhouse three housed far more interesting and dangerous plants.

Professor Sprout took a large key from her belt and unlocked the door. Zephyr caught a whiff of damp earth and fertilizer mingling with the heavy perfume of some giant, umbrella-sized flowers dangling from the ceiling.

They were about to enter when Lockhart’s hand shot out.

“Zephyr! I’ve been wanting a word…you don’t mind if he’s a couple of minutes late, do you, Professor Sprout?”

Cas and Dorian tensed, irritation showing clearly on their faces.

“It's fine,” Zephyr said, calming down her attack dogs.

Judging by Professor Sprout’s scowl, she did mind, but Lockhart said, “that’s the ticket,” and closed the greenhouse door in her face. The three boys glared out at the man who ignored them completely.

“Zephyr,” said Lockhart, his large white teeth gleaming in the sunlight as he shook his head. “Zephyr, Zephyr, Zephyr.”

She blinked. “Yes?”

“I heard about your father,” he led them away from the greenhouse for more privacy. They stopped behind a tree. “I wanted to extend my sincerest condolences.”

“He’s not dead,” Zephyr felt a streak of anger shoot through her.

“He could be,” Lockhart flashed his pearly whites. They were blinding. “I would like to offer you my help. After all, I have a lot of fans around the world. I can make an appeal for more help.”

“I don't need that.”

His eyes darted across her face and his smile made a shiver run up her spine. It was a slimy type of smile, the type that sent warning bells off in every girl's head.

She took a step back but all he did was come closer. “Don't you want more help? Surely finding your father is the most important thing to you. And when I do find him, think of the publicity! Of course, I’m doing it for you, but fame will come hand-in-hand.”

“What?” Her blood was boiling. She wanted to sock him in the jaw.

Lockhart placed his hand on her shoulder, squeezing. His touch lingered longer than it ever should. Zephyr wanted to throw up.

Lockhart continued, “I mean, you would look amazing in the news, Zephyr. You're very pretty.”

She pulled away abruptly. “I should go back to class.”

She wanted to take a long shower and scrub her shoulder until her skin fell off.

“I’d appreciate it if you kept our little talk to yourself. Your friends do not need to know everything, do they? I mean, isn't it tiring living in their shadows? Your reputation was created by theirs,” Lockhart called.

She faltered.

“Why not create a name for yourself?”

Zephyr scoffed and entered the greenhouse.

Cas immediately jumped to her side. “What did that git say?”

Zephyr opened her mouth and hesitated. For the first time, she didn't tell him what happened. What Lockhart did was…what was she going to say? He touched her shoulder and she wanted to die?

It was absurd. She was just thrown off by what he said about her father. All her senses were on overdrive. Zephyr was just overthinking.

“Nothing,” she said, sighing. “Just about the other day. He asked if I needed any financial help.”

“Asshole,” Dorian spat. “He always loves to throw his weight around. Ignore him.”

“I know,” she replied dryly.

Professor Sprout was standing behind a trestle bench in the center of the greenhouse. About twenty pairs of different-colored earmuffs were lying on the bench.

She said, “We’ll be repotting Mandrakes today. Now, who can tell me the properties of the Mandrake?”

“Mandrake, or Mandragora, is a powerful restorative,” said Matthias, much to everyone's surprise. “It is used to return people who have been transfigured or cursed to their original state.”

“I thought you said your academics were only decent?” Cas asked, surprised.

“It is, to me.”

“Excellent. Ten points to Slytherin,” said Professor Sprout. “The Mandrake forms an essential part of most antidotes. It is also, however, dangerous. Who can tell me why?”

“The cry of the Mandrake is fatal to anyone who hears it,” Cas said, always wanting to one-up everyone.

Dorian rolled his eyes.

“Precisely. Take another ten points,” said Professor Sprout. “Now, the Mandrakes we have here are still very young.”

She pointed to a row of deep trays as she spoke, and everyone shuffled forward for a better look. A hundred or so tufty little plants, purplish green in color, were growing there in rows.

“Everyone take a pair of earmuffs,” said Professor Sprout.

Zephyr seized the pink one immediately. Cas and Matthias fought over the black one before the latter surrendered and found a green one instead.

Dorian gave her a thumbs up as he snatched a blue earmuff from a Ravenclaw.

“When I tell you to put them on, make sure your ears are completely covered,” said Professor Sprout. “When it is safe to remove them, I will give you the thumbs-up. Right, earmuffs on.”

She wore hers. They shut out the sound completely.

Professor Sprout put the other pink, fluffy pair over her own ears, rolled up the sleeves of her robes, grasped one of the tufty plants firmly, and pulled hard.

Zephyr let out a gasp of surprise that no one could hear.

Instead of roots, a small, muddy, and extremely ugly baby popped out of the earth. The leaves were growing right out of his head. He had pale green, mottled skin, and was clearly bawling at the top of his lungs.

Cas grimaced and mimicked kicking a football, making the three of the snicker.

Professor Sprout took a large plant pot from under the table and plunged the Mandrake into it, burying him in dark, damp compost until only the tufted leaves were visible. Professor Sprout dusted off her hands, gave them all the thumbs-up, and removed her own earmuffs.

“It's hideous,” Dorian said. “I refuse to touch that.”

“As our Mandrakes are only seedlings, their cries won’t kill yet,” she said calmly as though she’d just done nothing more exciting than water a begonia. “However, they will knock you out for several hours, and as I’m sure none of you want to miss your first day back, make sure your earmuffs are securely in place while you work. I will attract your attention when it is time to pack up.”

“Four to a tray. There is a large supply of pots here, compost in the sacks over there and be careful of the Venomous Tentacula, it’s teething.”

She gave a sharp slap to a spiky, dark red plant as she spoke, making it draw in the long feelers that had been inching sneakily over her shoulder.

They took a tray. Matthias grabbed a pot, whilst Dorian and Cas lugged a bag of compost over.

Professor Sprout had made it look extremely easy, but it wasn’t for Zephyr. The Mandrakes didn’t like coming out of the earth, but didn’t seem to want to go back into it either.

They squirmed, kicked, flailed their sharp little fists, and gnashed their teeth. She nearly was bitten twice.

Cas seemed to be struggling too, but was working faster than anyone else. Dorian lifted the plant by his fingertips, like it was a soiled diaper.

By the end of the class everyone was sweaty, aching, and covered in earth. They headed back to shower before going down for lunch.

This time, Matthias sat with them, filling another seat in their usually empty table. Draco looked furious and was whispering to his friends, shooting them glares.

“What’ve we got this afternoon?” Asked Dorian, propping his arm on the table.

“Defense Against the Dark Arts,” Cas said with a heavy sigh. “Hurray.”

Zephyr’s heart plummeted. She was going to see Lockhart again.

“How often does your father contact you?” Cas asked.

Matthias shrugged, “once a week. I’ll ask him to update me on Zephyr’s dad.”

“Good.”

Lunch was a pile of fried rice and tom yam soup, which Cas and Dorian eagerly drank two bowls of. Once they were full, they headed to the library to browse some textbooks, much to Matthias’ surprise.

“I know it seems strange,” Zephyr told him quietly, “but they study a lot. That’s how they maintain top grades. They're also blessed with near perfect memories.”

“I see,” Matthias said and pulled Hogwarts: A History from the shelf.

They went to class after the bell rang, in an attempt to show Lockhart they didn't particularly care about his lessons.

The man smiled brightly at her as she entered and her skin began to crawl.

“Ah, my favourite students!” His eyes were trained solely on her as she took a seat at the back with her friends.

Finally, the lesson began.

“Me,” he said, pointing at it and winking as well. “Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly’s Most-Charming-Smile Award, but I don’t talk about that. I didn’t get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!”

Cas placed his head on the table and shut his eyes.

He waited for them to laugh; a few people smiled weakly.

“I see you’ve all bought a complete set of my books–well done.”

He didn't mention how the four of their tables were completely empty.

“I thought we’d start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about, just to check how well you’ve read them, how much you’ve taken in.”

He dropped hers on the table and leaned down to whisper, “how was lunch, Zephyr my dear?”

She froze, heart lurching. She wanted to scream once more. She had no idea why she was so repulsed by the man but he…it was unexplainable and irrational. She gave him a weak grin.

When he had handed out the test papers he returned to the front of the class and said, “You have thirty minutes. You can start— now!”

Zephyr looked down at her paper and read:

1. What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s favorite color?

2. What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s secret ambition?

3. What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart’s greatest achievement to date?

On and on it went, over three sides of paper, right down to: 54. When is Gilderoy Lockhart’s birthday, and what would his ideal gift be?

Cas took one glance, crumbled up the paper and tossed it onto the floor. He went back to his nap.

Zephyr wasn't sure if she should bother with the test. She glanced behind to check on Dorian and Matthias.

Dorian was trying to fold a paper airplane and failing miserably. Matthias was actually doing the work, or perhaps was drawing.

He looked up and winked at her. She grinned and turned back. Zephyr attempted the first page, bullshiting as she went.

She had no clue how it was relevant to DATDA.

Half an hour later, Lockhart collected the papers and rifled through them in front of the class.

“Tut, tut — hardly any of you remembered that my favorite color is lilac. I say so in Year with the Yeti. And a few of you need to read Wanderings with Werewolves more carefully — I clearly state in chapter twelve that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between all magic and non-magic peoples, though I wouldn’t say no to a large bottle of Ogden’s Old Firewhisky!”

He gave them another roguish wink. Dorian’s jaw was dropped in complete disbelief. Cas had his head in his hands.

“But Miss Hermione Granger knew my secret ambition is to rid the world of evil and market my own range of hair-care potions…good girl! In fact,” he flipped her paper over, “full marks! Where is Miss Hermione Granger?”

Hermione raised a trembling hand.

“Excellent!” beamed Lockhart. “Quite excellent! Take ten points for Gryffindor! And so, to business…”

He bent down behind his desk and lifted a large, covered cage onto it.

“Now, be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm.”

Lockhart placed a hand on the cover. Cas looked up, scratching his nose idly.

“I must ask you not to scream,” said Lockhart in a low voice. “It might provoke them.”

As the whole class held its breath, Lockhart whipped off the cover.

“Yes,” he said dramatically. “Freshly caught Cornish pixies.”

Cas sat up, finally alert. “Don't do it.”

Matthias leaned forward and whispered, “these pesky bastards stole my socks once.”

Seamus Finnigan couldn’t control himself. He let out a snort of laughter that even Lockhart couldn’t mistake for a scream of terror.

“Yes?” He smiled at Seamus.

“Well, they’re not…they’re not very dangerous, are they?” Seamus choked.

“Don’t be so sure!” said Lockhart, waggling a finger annoyingly at Seamus. “Devilish tricky little blighters they can be!”

The pixies were electric blue and about eight inches high, with pointed faces and voices so shrill it was like listening to a lot of budgies arguing. The moment the cover had been removed, they had started jabbering and rocketing around, rattling the bars and making bizarre faces at the people nearest them.

“Right, then,” Lockhart said loudly. “Let’s see what you make of them!”

And he opened the cage.

“Get down!” Cas yelled as he forced her beneath the table.

It was pandemonium.

The pixies shot in every direction like rockets. Two of them seized Neville by the ears and lifted him into the air.

Several shot straight through the window, showering the back row with broken glass. The rest proceeded to wreck the classroom more effectively than a rampaging rhino.

They grabbed ink bottles and sprayed the class with them, shredded books and papers, tore pictures from the walls, upended the wastebasket, grabbed bags and books and threw them out of the smashed window; within minutes, half the class was sheltering under desks and Neville was swinging from the iron chandelier in the ceiling.

“Fucks’ sake,” Dorian called from beneath his table. “You've dealt with them before, right, Matthias?”

“Once,” the boy replied, swatting a pixie from his hair.

“Come on now — round them up, round them up, they’re only pixies,” Lockhart shouted.

He rolled up his sleeves, brandished his wand, and bellowed, “Peskipiksi Pesternomi!”

It had absolutely no effect; one of the pixies seized his wand and threw it out of the window, too. Lockhart gulped and dived under his own desk, narrowly avoiding being squashed by Neville, who fell a second later as the chandelier gave way.

Cas groaned and rolled out from beneath his desk, wand out. “Stupefy!”

Dorian and Zephyr leapt out to help. Slowly, they immobilsed the pixies as Matthias shoved them back into the cage.

“Useless teacher,” Matthias cursed.

The bell rang and there was a mad rush toward the exit.

In the relative calm that followed, Lockhart straightened up and said, “Well, I’ll ask you four to just nip the rest of them back into their cage.”

He swept past them and shut the door quickly behind him.

Cas gaped at the man and then back at them in disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“You don't have to say that twice,” Dorian scoffed and shut the cage. “Fucking hell.”

“That was quick thinking,” Matthias said, sighing.

“Don't kiss my ass, Arnoux,” Casspian replied curtly.

“I’m not.”

“Whatever,” Cas pulled the door open. “Let's go.”

Chapter 20: 2.4

Notes:

TW: paedophilia, molest

yes, i did upload 3 chapters at once. i have a habit of writing far ahead before i update this book. i've finished book 2, and am a quarter way through the third book. i can't wait to show you what i've been plotting because gawh-damn, it's insane. but, this is all you will receive until i have hit the halfway mark on the third book. may this satisfy your cravings for my beautifully devious Bloodtraitors

My father wrote back,” Matthias said one morning.

“What’d he say?” Cas asked, stretching his legs out.

They sat in their common room, lounging around on a lazy Sunday morning. Dorian was finishing up some homework from Transfiguration whilst Cas was pouring over the Potion’s book for Year Six students.

Zephyr was in a heated chess game with Matthias. She thought that, after what had happened last year, chess would have been permanently ruined for her, but Matthias proved to be a fun opponent.

“Well,” Matthias moved his Queen to check-mate her king and leaned back. “Your father was seen in Argentina, but the most worrying part? My mother was there too. I think it’s safe to assume he is following my mom.”

“Why would he?” Dorian asked, shutting his textbook with a curse. “Damn this syllabus.”

Zephyr flicked her king down and surrendered to the red-head. He gave her an apologetic look.

Matthias waved his hand to reset the board before replying, “well, a new string of murders were tied to my uncle. Remember the house fire? Yeah, it's suspected that my family caused it.”

“So, essentially, Zephyr’s father is searching for your mother,” Cas said. He grinned. “Great, we have an angle to start with.”

“What?” Matthias looked alarmed. “Don't tell me you’re planning to…”

“Find your mother? Absolutely.”

“But…” he spluttered. “You were supposed to keep me safe from them, not give me to them.”

Cas rolled his eyes, “we don't break deals, Arnoux. We're not delivering you to them. In fact, if we find your mother, we can put her back into prison and you'll be even safer.”

Zephyr frowned, “remember the last time we tried to defeat murderous wizards? We barely survived.”

“Yeah, well, it's because of the stupid report thing,” Cas said, shrugging. “We’ll do fine now.”

“And how are you so sure?” Dorian asked. “Zeph’ has a point.”

“Thank you,” Zephyr grinned. “You just earned a Zephyr point.”

“What's a Zephyr point?” Cas asked, looking offended that he hadn't earned any.

“Well, if you agree with me, you get one point and the winner follows me to my mom’s bar during the holidays,” Zephyr explained.

She honestly just made it up on the spot, but why not?

“Well, I agree twice as much as Dorian,” Cas immediately said.

“Oi, that's cheating,” Dorian scowled. “You literally just disagreed with her.”

“Well, I take it back now. I didn't know there was a competition before I spoke.”

Dorian smirked, saying, “oh, you wait, Blackthorn, I’ll win this thing.”

“Bring it on, Harlot.”

Matthias leaned forward. “I think you started something dangerous.”

She nodded, “I fear I may have.”

“Casspian! Casspian!” A girl burst into the room. “Casspian!”

“Who is that?” Dorian asked.

The girl stopped, hands on her hips as she panted. Her afro was a mess upon her head.

“Oh, this is Zigi, a fourth year student,” Cas said calmly, setting his book aside. “I threatened her once. What's up?”

“Hermione sent me to get you. They're at the field…Draco is causing a scene and they need help.”

“Lovely,” Cas said, leaping up. “Come along, let's go beat Malfoy’s ass.”

They, in fact, accidentally grounded several students whilst rushing down. Her two boys were over the moon at the opportunity to hurt someone. Matthias had no choice but to follow and Zephyr was always eager to ride along.

The Slytherin and Gryffindor Quidditch team were having a face-off. Malfoy was decked out in the uniform, all of his teammates holding the newest Brooms.

They reached the field just in time to hear Malfoy say, “no one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood.”

Cas’ eyes narrowed as he yelled, “oh, no you don't!”

Draco’s eyes widened comically as he realised they were here.

There was an instant uproar at Draco’s words. Flint had to dive in front of Malfoy to stop Fred and George jumping on him, Alicia shrieked, “How dare you!”, and Ron plunged his hand into his robes, pulled out his wand, yelling, “You’ll pay for that one, Malfoy!” and pointed it furiously under Flint’s arm at Malfoy’s face.

A loud bang echoed around the stadium and a jet of green light shot out of the wrong end of Ron’s wand, hitting him in the stomach and sending him reeling backward onto the grass.

“Ron! Ron! Are you all right?” squealed Hermione.

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead he gave an almighty belch and several slugs dribbled out of his mouth onto his lap.The Slytherin team were paralyzed with laughter. Flint was doubled up, hanging onto his new broomstick for support. Malfoy was on all fours, banging the ground with his fist.

“Whose turn is it to hurt him?” Dorian asked.

“I did the last round,” Cas said.

“But I did it twice last week,” Dorian protested.

Matthias pulled his wand out, “I’ll do it.”

The Gryffindors were gathered around Ron, who kept belching large, glistening slugs.

“Malfoy,” Matthias called.

He transformed. It happened the exact same way as how Cas falls back into his cruel ways and how Dorian becomes a Harlot again–Matthias became the son of a murderer.

Draco turned and was instantly met with a fist to his nose. Zephyr wasn't even sure why Matthias had pulled out his wand in the first place. They crashed to the ground.

The boy pulled his arm back again, and delivered another solid hit. His teammates rushed to rescue him but when Cas and Dorian stepped forward, they backed off.

Once Draco was out cold, Matthias stood, shaking out his hand. He grinned, wiping blood from his cheek.

“Wasn't that overkill?” Dorian asked, pulling them away.

“I can't be expelled,” Matthias said. “I’m here for protection, remember?”

“What happened, Harry? What happened? Is he ill? But you can cure him, can’t you?” A small boy had run down from his seat and was now dancing alongside them as they left the field.

“How many months of detention, do you reckon?” Cas asked, watching as the Slytherins began to drag their friend away.

“Two,” Matthias said, sighing. “Does anyone know how to heal my hand?”

“Yep,” Cas flicked his wand. “Episkey.”

Matthias’ split knuckles mended itself. He winced and shook them out.

“Not bad, Arnoux,” Dorian said, grinning. “Good punch.”

They waited for McGonagall to storm towards them a few minutes later.

“Detention! All of you!” She fumed. “Punching a student!”

“All of us?” Matthias asked with a frown. “Only I punched.”

“That was not what Captain Flint said. He claimed that all of you took turns,” McGonagall said, eyes sharp. “Fifty points from Slytherin, each.”

“We what?” Spluttered Cas. “How the hell would we have taken turns?”

“Do not use that type of language on a Professor!”

“Whatever.” Cas rolled his eyes. “What do we do?”

“Professor Snape would like Dorian to polish his caldrons,” she said.

Dorian groaned.

“Casspian will be organising the Library, whilst Matthias will be helping Mr. Filch at the trophy room.”

They both pulled faces.

“As for Miss Zephyr, you have been personally requested by Professor Lockhart to help with preparing for his next class. Off you go.”

“You're kidding me,” Zephyr said, dread filling her. She did not want to be anywhere near the man.

“Go!”

They left, trudging across the field.

“Damn,” Cas said. “This isn't good.”

“Your’s is literally the best punishment out of ours,” scowled Dorian.

“Half of the books have enchantments on them that could kill me,” Cas argued. “I’d say Lockhart would be the easiest. He’ll spend the entire time just talking about himself. The only thing Zephyr has to worry about is being bore to death.”

They parted ways to go to their respective detentions.

Lockhart was already inside the room as she let herself in. Zephyr lingered at the door, bile rising in her throat.

“Come in, Zephyr! Sit,” the man flashed a smile and patted the seat next to him. “I need help researching material for the next class.”

“What sort of material?”

He pointed to a stack of books on his desk. Zephyr let out a relieved sigh and sat down, pulling her chair away from him.

“Oh, no you don't, missy!” He laughed and tugged her chair back so they were seated side-by-side.

Zephyr clenched her jaw.

He placed a hand on her thigh, laughing, “people would be thrilled to be alone with me.”

She shuddered as his thumb stoked her inner thigh briefly before he patted her knee and pulled away.

“Go on now, dear, pick up the first book. I want a written summary of each,” Lockhart said, sliding over a quill and a piece of parchment to her.

Zephyr shakily picked up her pen.

“Oh, and I’ll take your wand from you until your detention is over, so you’ll have to do it the hard way.”

She froze for a second, brain racing. If she gave it over, she would have no way of defending herself if he tried anything…more.

Lockhart reached for her robe pocket and slipped his hand in slowly, maintaining eye contact with her. His hand brushed across her thigh once more as he fished for her wand.

Calm, she chanted in her head. Be calm. She flipped the book open and began reading. The first hour passed without further events. She was finally beginning to relax when he set down his own quill, taking a break from replying to what seemed to be fan mail.

“You know, Zephyr, you seem more mature than your age.”

She stiffened in her seat. “Do I?”

“At first, before I met you, I was wondering why your friends took such interest in you,” he laughed. “I mean, they are nearly as famous as me, and almost as handsome as well. You had no reputation nor fame. Then, I met you and I saw what they did in you. Kind, pretty, smart. So very pretty.”

Zephyr was seconds away from throwing up. She honestly have rathered face Voldemort again. Anything would have been better.

She wanted nothing more than to find Cas and have a breakdown, but she knew she couldn't. Cas got pissed when someone even looked at her wrong. He’d kill the man on the spot if he knew.

It was better if she kept her mouth shut.

“Anyways, I requested your help just to show you something,” Lockhart said and handed her a piece of paper.

She read it silently, trying to ignore his arm across the back of her chair, his fingers lightly grazing her back.

Dear Lockhart,

I am such a big fan of yours! I think your appeal to the public to help find your student’s missing father is so incredibly noble of you.

I am from London, working in a smaller news company. Have you heard about the attacks from the Arnoux family? They have arrived in the UK. Two families have been brutally murdered by them recently.

After some research, I’ve noticed that they are killing Influential Magical Families. I was on site to gather information for my article when I spotted Zephaniah Lee.

He seems to be following the killing sprees closely. His last seen was in Fife, Scotland. He was also badly injured.

I’ll write to you once I know more.

Much love,
Meredith Kai.

Zephyr’s head spun. Matthias was right. Her father had taken a special interest in the Arnouxs’. She read it again, her heart lurching. Matthias was in danger. His mother was closing in on him.

“I need to go—” Zephyr began to stand.

Lockhart’s arm tightened around her waist and he pulled her back down. “Your detention isn't over yet.”

“You don't understand, it’s urgent!” Zephyr cried.

Lockhart’s eyes darkened as he focused on her lips. “If you leave, my dear, I’m afraid I can't help you any longer.”

Zephyr gaped at him. In her mind, she had already floored the man, exploded his study and tore up all the fan mail.

She was trembling with anger. She could feel every part of her body shaking from pure repulsion. She had no choice. She knew that; she could save Matthias with the updates on his family’s whereabouts and finally had a definitive lead in finding her father.

She could not afford to leave. She could not afford to spill everything to Cas or Dorian yet. She had to keep her mouth shut tight. She couldn't risk losing such a valuable informant.

“Good girl,” he beamed, his gaze predatory. He rubbed her side, hand going much too high before he pulled back. “Go on with your research.”

It was dinner when he let her go. They walked down to the dining hall in silence, his eyes never straying from her. Her fists were clenched tightly in her pockets, fingernails digging into her palm to push away the nausea she felt.

They stopped outside the Grand hall, and he reached out to tuck her hair behind her ear, grazing her cheek.

“My wand,” she reminded.

“I seemed to have left it upstairs,” he said, forging a ‘oops’ look. “Come back alone before lights out to get it. I look forward to more alone time with you, Zephyr. Think of how much you’ll learn.”

She fled into the room. She knew she had tears in her eyes. She couldn't control herself any longer. Zephyr wanted to smash every plate over the man's head. She wanted to tear her skin off.

Her friends were already there, chatting cheerfully. She watched Dorian shove Cas who elbowed the boy back, both of their faces alight with glee. They definitely had fun during their detentions.

She approached them silently and Cas’s eyes widened. She held up a hand to shut him up and sat down, shoulders shaking from her sobs.

“Give me a second,” she said, choking on her words.

Cas crawled beneath the table to sit by her, reaching to pull her into a side hug but she flinched away. Regardless of how much she loved Cas, any more physical contact would make her snap.

He withdrew, hurt and worry crossing his face. The three boys sat in silence as she regained her composure.

“Go on, then,” she whispered.

“What happened?” Cas asked softly. “Did Lockhart hurt you?”

“No,” she lied, unable to look up. “But he…here.”

Zephyr pulled out the letter from her pocket and passed it to Cas, hand trembling so badly she nearly dropped it.

Cas read it with a stony expression and then gave it to Dorian to read.

“He had no right to do that,” Cas said, his tone harsh. “He had no fucking right to invade your privacy like this.”

“Don't do anything to him, Cas,” she said, finally looking up. He met her gaze evenly and his eyes softened. “I need more information. This is the most we’ve had. I can't risk it.”

“Well, fuck, my mom knows where I am,” Matthias said. “That's not good.”

“They can't enter Hogwarts,” Dorian reminded. “No way.”

Cas scrubbed a hand down his face. “Fuck, what should we do?”

“I know what I have to do,” she said quietly. “I have to get more detentions with Lockhart. It’ll increase our chances of gaining more information.”

Cas shook his head rapidly. “No! That’s…look how you ended up only after one session with him! You can’t.”

“I have to, Cas,” she said, desperation colouring her voice. “You know that.”

“Zeph’,” he begged.

Dorian sighed, “she’s right.”

Zephyr gave him a grateful smile. “One more Zephyr point.”

“I agree,” Matthias said, handing the letter back to her. “She needs to.”

“I hate this.” Cas cursed. “Fuck. If he tries anything, you come to us and you tell us immediately, do you understand?”

“Yeah.”

“Damn the information, Zephyr. The moment you are in danger in any sort of way, you withdraw. Your safety is my priority,” Cas plead.

“I know,” she smiled at him.

He rested his head on her shoulder, taking a deep breath. “When do you see him next?”

“Later, after dinner. He forgot to give my wand back.”

“Okay. Do you want us to come with you?” Dorian asked.

“No, to be safe, don't. He doesn't like you guys.”

Cas said, sighing, “I hate this.”

She did, too.

—

She knocked on the study door once again.

“Come in!”

Zephyr heaved a sigh of relief when she saw Harry in there as well. At least Lockhart wouldn't try anything with him around.

“Zephyr!” Harry grinned.

“Hey,” she said.

Lockhart reached into his desk and produced her wand. “It's a very interesting wand.”

“Thanks,” Zephyr said, taking it from him. “Can I go?”

“Sit for a moment. Accompany us,” Lockhart said.

She sat. Harry worked on the letters in silence. Then, she heard something.

It was a voice, a voice to chill the bone marrow, a voice of breathtaking, ice-cold venom.

“Come . . . come to me. . . . Let me rip you. . . . Let me tear you. . . . Let me kill you. . . .”

Harry gave a huge jump and Zephyr realised he could hear it as well.

“What?” he said loudly.

“I know!” said Lockhart. “Six solid months at the top of the best-seller list! Broke all records!”

“No,” said Harry frantically. “That voice!”

“Sorry?” said Lockhart, looking puzzled. “What voice?”

Zephyr caught Harry’s eyes and nodded slightly. She heard it too.

“That — that voice that said — didn’t you hear it?”

Lockhart was looking at Harry in high astonishment. “What are you talking about, Harry? Perhaps you’re getting a little drowsy? Great Scott –look at the time! We’ve been here nearly four hours! I’d never have believed it, time’s flown, hasn’t it?”

“C’mon,” Zephyr said. She couldn't be more glad to go.

They left, Harry shutting the door behind him.

“You heard that?” He whispered.

“Yep.”

“And you weren't scared whatsoever?”

“Not yet, let me get back to Cas. We’ll figure it out.”

Chapter 21: 2.5

“We have so much on our plates,” Matthias groaned. “What do we focus on?”

“I say we focus on the voice you heard,” Dorian said.

Cas had also heard it, much to all their bewilderment. Dorian and Matthias had no clue why they couldn't.

October had arrived, spreading a damp chill over the grounds and into the castle. Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, was kept busy by a sudden spate of colds among the staff and students. Her Pepperup Potion worked instantly, though it left the drinker smoking at the ears for several hours afterward.

Dorian and Zephyr took turns falling sick. Cas seemed to be immune to any human illness and was in his usual chipper mood around them. Matthias had a slight runny nose but was faring well.

“Zephyr’s father and my mother is an issue we can solve in one,” Matthias said. “The voice here is the immediate threat. Is it possible that you can pinpoint a specific spot?”

“Only that it came from the walls,” she said, setting her cup of tea down.

“Great, if we have zero leads by next week, we’ll go for the walls with an axe,” Cas said brightly. “Besides, it's Halloween soon. Surely more would be bound to happen then.”

Dorian yawned and his eyes hardened suddenly. “What does he want?”

The rest of them whipped around. Striding across the Grand Hall was Lockhart, dazzling grin on his face, waving as his fans swooned.

“How many detentions do I need to serve?” Zephyr groaned, running a hand down her face. “Is this even allowed?”

The man stopped before them.

“Zephyr—”

“No, we want her today,” Cas cut in roughly.

“I just wanted to pass her something,” Lockhart said charmingly, his golden locks flopping in his face. “No harm.”

He slid a letter onto the table and turned to continue towards the teacher’s table. Zephyr blinked, shocked. There was no unwanted touch, no strange comments?

With a start, she realised he, too, feared her friends.

“What's that?” Dorian eagerly leaned forward.

“No clue,” she picked it up.

The envelope was creme-coloured and undistinguished. There was nothing remarkable about it.

She tore it open and gasped as she stared at the contents. Her hands shook as she gently eased out a piece of paper and several black-and-white photographs–the regular, muggle type.

It was pictures of her father. The place and time of the pictures were written behind them. The pictures were taken ranging from two months ago to yesterday.

Cas scanned the letter, eyes wide. “Whoever wrote this letter–it was unsigned–intercepted a message between your father and Arnoux’s mother. They apparently have a generational grudge and they're planning to settle it tonight.”

“Did it way where?” Matthias leaned forward, clutching his cup.

“Yes,” her friend’s face was a mixture of excitement and fear. “Hogsmeade.”

“What?” Dorian exclaimed.

“Yeah!”

“What the hell is their plan? Why do it in broad daylight?” Dorian paused and then added, “well, night-light.”

“No clue. But it’s obvious that your mom is trying to breach Hogwarts. She’s getting closer and closer. This changes everything!” Cas slammed the table, making them all jump. “We have to follow.”

“But…” Zephyr said, trailing off. “What if it's a trap?”

“It's the closest we’ll get to them. If we don't go, it’ll be like ignoring gold that fell onto our laps,” Cas argued.

“Bad metaphor, Cas,” Dorian said with an eyebrow raised. “I hardly think this is gold.”

“Do you know if Lockhart had opened the letter? He’ll know we were sneaking out tonight if he read it.” Matthias asked. “What if it’s a ploy?”

Zephyr had finally separated the three boys into new categories. Cas was the enabler, Dorian was the loyal friend and Matthias was the wet towel.

The three of them scowled at him. They were used to edging each other on to do worse. None of them wanted a reality check.

“Fine,” he backed off. “How do we sneak out! I thought it was impossible.”

“We know a spot.” Cas grinned. “It’s decided. Tonight, we go.”

—

“Do we need the ministry?” Zephyr asked Cas as they hurried along the secret passageway that led from Hogwarts to the sweet shop they found in their first year.

“Nah, it's only two murderers this time. Dorian, how are you holding up?” Cas called behind him.

She could hear the blond’s scowl through his words, “I’m not the same guy as I was last year.”

“If you say so,” Cas said, grinning.

They pushed out into the sweet shop. Dorian glanced around, using his wand’s light to see.

“Is the chocolate paste that good?” He asked.

“It is,” Cas replied, tossing the boy one.

Dorian caught it, “cheers.”

“Fingerprints!” Matthias whispered, alarmed.

The three of them exchanged amused smiles. History was repeating itself.

“Last time we were here, we broke into the Ministry,” Zephyr told him.

“What? How? I thought it was well protected?” Matthias spluttered, eyes wide.

Cas nodded, “it is, but Polyjuice is incredibly powerful.”

“And so are three kids who hate each other,” Dorian added. “God, remember how we fought?”

“I tried to kill you multiple times a day,” Cas snorted.

“Rightly so, I was a stuck-up ass,” Dorian looked apologetic.

“The past is the past, Bloodtraitor,” Cas bumped Dorian’s shoulder with his own. “C’mon.”

They headed out into the darkened village. The night was cold, the chill of winter setting in. Their breaths plumed in the air as they walked in silence.

“I wonder where exactly they would be,” Zephyr said, sighing. “What if we are too late?”

“If we were too late, the town would be up in flames. Trust me, we’d know,” Matthias said with a snort.

“Good point,” Zephyr agreed. “But I don't know if my father would be able to defend himself. I don't know anything about his abilities.”

“If he’s half as talented as you, he’d do fine, Zeph’,” Cas said, winking at her.

She grinned back at the boy. He looked amazing that night, snuggled up in a thick fleece jacket and cozy pants. He didn't look dangerous whatsoever.

Cas rounded a corner, paused and took three steps back, eyes alight with excitement. He mouthed ‘found them!’

They huddled there, behind a bar, exchanging looks. Should they wait for the fight to start, or should they jump out now?

“Sonorus,” Cas whispered.

Zephyr could hear the conversation between her father and Matthias’ mother now.

“What do you want?” A woman said, her french accent thick.

“A word,” her father said. “I mean no harm to the both of you.”

“You've been following us,” another man spoke.

Matthias’ face was pale with fear.

“Yes, I have,” her father’s voice was hard. “I want to make a deal with you.”

“What could you possibly offer us? You have no money nor prestige.”

“I can offer your son back.”

Matthias gasped and Dorian clamped a hand over his mouth. Cas reached for her and they clutched each other's hands, his fade mirroring hers of shock.

Matthias’ mother laughed lowly, “and what do you want in exchange?”

“The safety of Dorian Harlot, Casspian Blackthorn and my daughter. I know that they are on your list.”

“They have ruined the reputation of Dark Wizards. Two powerful families are gone because of them.”

“Do we have a deal?”

“My son is not worth enough for this deal.”

Matthias broke free from Dorian’s hold and flung himself out, wand raised, “how dare you!”

“Matthias, no!” Cas hissed, but it was too late.

Cas gave Zephyr and Dorian a look and then darted out.

“Do we stay?” Dorian asked, looking sick.

“No, are you mad?” Zephyr shot back and ran out as well.

Now it was four of them, standing side-by-side, facing the three adults. Zephyr and Matthias were both shaking, whilst her two boys stood tall and proud.

Matthias’ mother was a tall, thin woman with snow-white skin and auburn hair. His uncle had a shock of platinum curls upon his head and was small and porky.

“Zephyr,” her father said, equally as stunned as she was. “What are you…?”

“You wanted to give me up?” Exclaimed Matthias.

“I’d give everything to ensure my daughter’s safety. I gave everything for her,” her father yelled back.

“We didn't need your protection!” Dorian shouted. “How could you exchange an innocent life?”

“I did it for her!” Her father’s words rang through the night.

Zephyr raised her voice even louder, pleading, “I never asked for this!”

“Now, now,” Cas said, his voice venomous, “let's all calm down.”

Everyone fell silent. Matthias was crying.

“Let's get one fact straight,” Casspian said, idly twirling his wand. “No one is getting Matthias tonight. Not whilst I’m here.”

“Then, I’ll just have to kill you,” sneered Matthias’ uncle. “Avada— ”

Cas was faster.

“Silencio,” Cas flicked his wand, boredom dripping from his voice. “How rude.”

Matthias’ uncle clutched at his mouth which had disappeared, the skin sewing together to form one solid canvas.

Zephyr’s heart was pounding hard in her chest. Cas almost died. He was several syllables from being murdered.

“Casspian Blackthorn, I presume?” Matthias’ mother asked. “You would have been royalty if you didn't betray your family.”

“Those people only raised me. I have a family and they stand by me,” Cas said sharply. “Now, I stand by them as well.”

“Zephyr, you need to go,” her father begged. “It's not safe here.”

“You don't know what I am capable of,” Zephyr said, snarling.

“Zeph’,” Cas muttered.

“Shut up.”

“Okay.” Cas faced the three adults once more. “I’m not sure what to do with you.”

A light in the house across from them flicked on.

“We will settle this another day,” Matthias’ mother promised.

They disappeared in a wisp of smoke. The sounds of the night slowly twisted its way back onto Zephyr’s ringing ears.

It was the four of them and her father left on the streets once more.

“Papa,” she whispered and approached him. “How could you?”

The boys hung back, giving them space. She was close enough to make out the new scars in his face–a long white one that stretched across his cheek.

“I wanted to save you!” Her father's eyes flashed with rage. “It took me months to track them down and you just lost my only bargaining chip.”

Zephyr shook her head, vision blurry with tears, “but it's wrong. Matthias is innocent and you wanted to let him die. No matter if you're trying to save us, you're still killing someone!”

“You have no idea how much I’ve sacrificed for you and your friends. Blackthorn and Harlot are not even worth this. They are horrible people; each and everyone in their bloodline have committed heinous crimes. What makes you so sure they wouldn't stab you in the back one day?”

Red hot anger shot through Zephyr. Casspian and Dorian had given up everything to prove they were good people and even better friends.

“I trust them more than I trust you,” Zephyr spat out. “They have never abandoned me. Not once. No matter how tough it gets, they always remain by my side. Leaving me has never been an option for them. Not like you.”

Her father took a step forward, “how dare you? I lost my wife to protect you.”

“Oh, what, do you think mom wants this? Do you think she’ll be happy when she finds out what you're doing? And if you let an innocent child die just to save someone…” she paused, takibg a deep breath.

She looked her father in the eye and said the worst thing she’d ever utter, “...you’ll be exactly like the person you're protecting us from.”

Her father’s face fell into complete shock, then his gaze hardened. There was no comparison in them as he raised his hand and delivered a hard blow across her face.

Zephyr fell. Her boys cried out but they couldn't do anything to stop her father from apparating away.

“Zeph’…” Cas whispered as he knelt beside her.

She could tell that he didn't know what to do. His first instinct would have been to harm whoever hurt her, but not once have he ever factored in this situation.

He reached for her hand and she slapped it away. Zephyr was cold. She was so, so cold. She stood, shoved by Dorian who too, had tried to hold her, and made her way back to Hogwarts.

Mattias tried to catch up to her, “Zephyr, I’m so sorry, I didn't think it would turn out—”

She ignored him. She couldn't stop crying. She ignored her friends and continued on, feeling the worst she’d ever felt.

Chapter 22: 2.6

Zephyr hadn't left her bed in three days. She refused to get up, refused to see her friends. She didn't care about the detentions she was getting from skipping so many classes.

Casspian had begged everyday for hours for her to come out. She never replied. He left food for her which she had barely touched. He piled books by the door which had collected dust. He had sat outside all night in hopes she’d appear.

Zephyr never did.

She hadn't done anything but sob into her pillow. She couldn't eat. She couldn't drink. She couldn't even move. She just…felt numb.

Any attempt to find her father suddenly felt useless. She never wanted to see her father ever again.

At first, it was just heart-wrenching pain. She cried until she physically couldn't and passed out on her bed from exhaustion.

Then came anger. It was a short episode, but it left open wounds across her body where she had raked her nails. She threw her nightstand and it had splintered into a pile of wood. She hit everything she could, leaving her hands a bloody mess. She screamed till she lost her voice.

And then, it was just a deep exhaustion. She was bed bound for the rest of those two days. Her body was in so, so much pain from the multitude of injuries she inflicted upon herself.

On the forth day, she sat by the door, listening to Cas speak. He had done it every day since that day.

He always started with an apology. Then, he’d talk about his day.

“I got another week of detention today,” he said softly.

“Yeah,” Dorian’s voice filtered through the gao beneath her door. “We wanted to make sure we served the same amount of detention as you would.”

“Matthias isn't talking to us either,” Cas added with a sigh. “He blames himself for the whole thing.”

“Zephyr, take as much time as you need, but please, let us know you're okay. You haven't eaten in days. We only know you're alive from your roommates.”

Zephyr closed her eyes as tears dripped down, stinging the deep cut across her nose. A splinter had embedded into her skin when the nightstand broke. It still bled when she cried too hard.

Cas said, “they say you're badly injured. Just…please, heal yourself.”

He sounded like he was crying as well. His voice was shaky with emotion. A different type of pain hit her. Her boys needed her. By isolating herself, she had been punishing them.

Zephyr slowly got to her feet, wincing as her wounds stretched. Several re-opened, bleeding through her already bloodstained clothes.

She reached for the door and slowly opened it.

Her boys sat on the ground outside. Casspian looked horrible–his eyes were shadowed with heavy eye bags. His face was wet with tears.

Dorian’s eyes were bloodshot. His normally neat hair was a mess, like he had ran his hand through it constantly.

Her boys stared up at her in shock. Then, Cas leapt up and pulled her into a tight hug. Both of them didn't pay any regard to her wounds, or perhaps, he couldn't see them yet.

“Zephyr,” he said in a heartbreakingly quiet voice.

“Cas,” she whispered back, voice strained.

“We missed you,” Dorian said and joined the hug.

They stood there, huddled together, for several minutes, unable to let go of each other.

Zephyr realised just how much she missed them. She never craved their touch so much. She felt ten times better immediately. The weight of the world seemed to lessen like they were sharing the burden with her.

Finally, they pulled apart, all of them sobbing. Cas led her down the stairs to the dimly-lit common room where they finally could see her injuries.

The two boys stood there, just examining her with such tenderness that she nearly collapsed. Dorian sat her down and they stared at each other in silence.

She was bleeding from dozens of wounds. She was much thinner than the last time they saw her. She knew she looked an inch away from death.

“I’m so sorry,” Cas blurted out.

She shook her head. “Not your fault.”

“C’mon,” Dorian handed her a half-finished bottle of water. “You need hydration.”

She tried to raise the bottle to her lips but her hands were too weak. Cas was there in a flash, helping her lift and tilt the water into her mouth. The liquid burned down her destroyed throat.

Once she was done, Dorian took the bottle from her.

“You know the healing charm?” Cas asked.

“Yes,” Dorian said, pulling his wand out.

They sat on either of her sides and slowly, they began to heal every wound she had, their free hand gripping hers.

It took a good half-an-hour to finish. They sat there, all exhausted.

“We were really worried,” Cas murmured. “Zephyr…we didn't know if you were safe.”

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“We’re more sorry,” Dorian told her. “For not being there.”

“You were there,” she looked up from her hands. “Everyday outside my door. You sat and waited every night.”

“We weren’t in there with you.”

“You wouldn't have wanted to be,” she gave a hollow laugh.

“There is nothing more in the world than I want to be there,” Cas promised her. “I never want you to suffer, and if I can't prevent that, then I’ll make sure you aren't alone going through any pain.”

Zephyr sighed. “How is Matthias? He really won't talk?”

“Yeah,” Dorian said and shot a dirty look at Cas. “Blackthorn here went off on him at first. Then, Cas calmed down and tried to apologise but Matthias shut us out as well.”

Cas scrubbed a hand down his face. “I lost my shit, I’m sorry.”

“Maybe I’ll get through to him,” Zephyr said.

“Hopefully,” Cas leaned back. “But for now, let's just take a breather.”

They only saw Matthias at breakfast. He sat alone, poking dejectedly at his food. His eyes widened when they approached.

“Zephyr,” he said shakily.

“It's not your fault.” Zephyr replied firmly.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

“I am. Are you?”

“Yeah…” Matthias gulped and looked at the boys flanking her.

“They're fine with you,” she promised.

“Yeah, Arnoux,” Dorian sat down, yawning. “Stop moping around and talk to us. Blackthorn is already a bummer. If you join in, you’ll make Zephyr miserable again.”

Cas snorted, “I’m not a bummer.”

Matthias gave her a grateful look and then leaned in, “so, I have news.”

Immediately the three of them leaned in. No matter how much they go through, they were thrill-seekers and were always down for more.

“So, yesterday night,” he whispered. “Someone wrote in blood on the wall near the Great Hall ‘The chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir beware’. Harry and his friends found Filch’s cat hanging there, petrified.”

Cas’ eyes brightened, “no way.”

“Yes, way,” Matthias nodded eagerly. “Filch saw it, went mad. Dumbledore says it’s not the three of them.”

“Of course he would,” Dorian snorted. “Anyways, what do people suspect happened?”

“No clue,” Matthias said. “No one knows what could have done that.”

“Okay, what do we know of the Chamber of Secrets?” Cas asked. “I’ve heard of it…some sort of secret place built to contain something terrible.”

“Surely we would have found this chamber by now,” Zephyr said. “We’ve explored every inch of the school.”

“Have we?” Cas arched a brow.

Dorian said, “he has a point. I know a bit about this. My father said it was built when the school was first established. Salazar Slytherin would have put really strong enchantments to prevent people from finding it.”

“And it’s said only the true heir can open the chamber to unleash whatever is inside to purge those who aren't of ‘pure blood’ from the school.” Cas made air quotations. “Bullshit, I say.”

“Okay, assuming that it's all real and that there isn't some crazy wizard running around petrifying things, who would be the heir?” Zephyr asked.

Matthias took a deep breath, sighed and said, “well, the suspects are Harry Potter, Cas, Dorian, me, and well, you.”

“Okay I can understand the three of us being suspected,” Dorian said, and waved away the indignant expression on Cas’ face. “But Zeph’?”

“She was gone for three days, all during the attacks,” Matthias pointed out. “With everything about your father, it adds fuel to the fire. Some more, they think you hexxed the three of us to be your friends.”

“What?” She exclaimed. “Why? How?” Why?”

“I don't know!” Matthias said.

“Hexxed us to be her friends?” Cas repeated with a scoff. “Dorian hated us last year. She…this is just dumb.”

“It is, isn't it?” Dorian huffed. “Well, no point caring until someone takes action against her. Surely no teacher would believe it. Meanwhile, we should just focus on finding out more.”

Cas nodded. “C’mon, time for class.”

The teachers all had dropped any detention they had issued them once they saw how tired they look. Even Snape left them alone.

Everyone could tell. Everyone but Lockhart.

The moment they walked in, Lockhart perked up.

“Zephyr!” He pranced over, flashing his hideously perfect teeth. “I’ve missed my favourite student!”

He grabbed her shoulder and she froze. He grinned down at her, thumb caressing her collarbone.

Then, he looked behind her. His smile faded. She didn't need to check to know her boys were glowering at the man.

She glanced anyway.

Cas was staring at the hand, like he could burn a hole through it. His lips were curled into a snarl.

Dorian eyes were darting between her, Lockhart’s grip, and Lockhart’s face. His jaw was dropped, like he physically could not process what was happening.

Matthias was blinking rapidly. He tried to speak, lost his words and shut his mouth again. Then, he tried once more and failed the second time as well.

Lockhart withdrew with a tight smile. “Go off to your seats, let's begin the lesson.”

Zephyr grabbed Cas and hauled him away before he could do something stupid.

They sat down, Cas fuming beside her.

“How dare he touch you?”

She rolled her eyes, “relax.”

“But that…he was stroking you,” Dorian gagged. “It was disgusting.”

“I think you are overreacting,” she stated calmly, flipping her book open. The picture of Lockhart inside winked at her and she slammed it shut again.

Matthias leaned forward, “I don't think you saw what we did. It was way too intimate.”

“Guys,” Zephyr snapped. “Enough.”

They shut up. Dorian pressed his head against the table, looking vaguely green. Matthias began playing with his quill. Casspian Blackthorn, the most powerful child in the school, chose to sulk, arms crossed across his chest. He was pouting and everything.

She thought he was ridiculous and would have laughed if her heart wasn't pounding out of her chest.

They had almost found out. They could not know. Zephyr knew the moment the truth was revealed, Lockhart would be killed.

She hated that guy, but she wasn't going to get someone murdered. Actually, scratch that–she wasn't going to let her friends go to prison killing someone like Lockhart. He simply wasn't worth the trouble.

After forty minutes of the Professor babbling about himself, he sent them off to do a crossword puzzle of his achievements as a group project.

To her surprise, Hermione hurried over to them.

“How do you make a Polyjuice potion?” She asked them in a hushed whisper. “Have you made one?”

“Yes, we have,” Cas glanced at her, his tantrum over. “Why?”

“Look, Draco knows the most about the Chamber Of Secrets. He is the most likely to be the Heir of Slytherin. We–Harry, Ron and I–want to morph into Crabbe and Goyle to dig out more information.”

“That's not a bad idea,” Cas said, propping his head on his hand. “When’s the full moon?”

“In a month,” Hermione’s shoulders’ slumped.

“Well,” Cas said. “I’ll write the instructions down and pass it to you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Hermione said. “Thanks!”

“Why did ours take a day?” Zephyr asked Cas.

“Because I found pre-stewed Lacewings,” Cas said with a shrug. “Snape has everything, if you look hard enough.”

“Tomorrow’s the Quidditch match,” Matthias piped up. “Are you guys fans of the sport? I suppose you are, since you own the newest brooms.”

“We aren't, actually,” Dorian said. “The brooms were bought just to show them off.”

“Oh,” Matthias deflated, his attempt at making conversation gone.

She sent him a pitying look, “are you a fan?”

“Yes!” He grinned. “I’ve always wanted to play! But…in order to play well, you need to work well with your teammates and I don't like the people on the Slytherin team. Plus, I don't know how long I’ll be here for, so it’s pointless to apply.”

The class ended and they filed out, the boys all staring daggers at Lockhart who did his darndest to avoid looking at them.

—

They sat on the bleachers once more, all huddled under windbreakers, prepared for the thunder clouds rolling in.

“Guess what I have,” Cas grinned.

His cheeks were pink from the cold air. He looked younger, more like a fourteen year old. These were the moments Zephyr cherished the most–when they could take a break from the adventure and be children.

Dorian sat up as Cas produced not one, not two, but six platters of nachos from his bag. From his pocket, he pulled out a can of soda for each of them. Then, thinking hard, he dug further and grinned victoriously as he found a large bar of milk chocolate.

“Where did you even get these?” Matthias marveled at the spread of snacks before his eyes.

“He always somehow gets these during any Qudditch tournament,” Dorian said and snagged a box of nachos. “It’s the most impressive thing he can do.”

Cas frowned, “that's not true.”

“Nothing is better than food, Bloodtraitor,” the blond snorted. “No spell can beat this.”

As the teams walked out onto the pitch, a roar of noise greeted them; mainly cheers, because Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were anxious to see Slytherin beaten, but the Slytherins in the crowd made their boos and hisses heard, too.

“Urgh,” Dorian said with disdain. “I don't get the excitement.”

Cas said viciously, “we have no loyalty nor team spirit, Harlot.”

“That's true.”

Madam Hooch, the Quidditch teacher, asked Flint and Wood to shake hands, which they did, giving each other threatening stares.

“On my whistle,” said Madam Hooch. “Three, two, one . . .”

With a roar from the crowd to speed them upward, the fourteen players rose toward the leaden sky.

A heavy black Bludger came pelting toward Harry who barely avoided it. Cas sat up.

One of the Weasley twins streaked past him with his club in his hand, ready to knock the Bludger back toward a Slytherin.

George gave the Bludger a powerful whack in the direction of Adrian Pucey, but the Bludger changed direction in midair and shot straight for Harry again.

Harry dropped quickly to avoid it, and George managed to hit it hard toward Malfoy. Once again, the Bludger swerved like a boomerang and shot at Harry’s head.

“Okay,” Matthias said. “That is weird.”

“Mhm?” Dorian looked up from his food. “What is?”

Matthias pointed to the sky. “The Bludger. It's following Harry, like it was—”

“Cursed,” Cas finished, eyes sparkling. “Like it was cursed.”

Zephyr groaned, “why do I always jinx myself? I was just thinking that we would have a normal…”

The whistle blew to indicate a time out. The Gryffindor team huddled, probably discussing how to keep Harry from being assasinated.

Rain pelted down as the teams resumed their match.

“What do we do?” She yelled over the storm.

Cas shrugged, watching in amusement as Dorian frantically casted spell after spell to keep the food dry. “Nothing.”

“What do you mean by nothing?” Matthias asked.

“Look—fuck, Exaresco!—,” Dorian aimed his wand at nachos, looking devastated that he couldn't save them. “We can't see much right now. Unlike last year, we can’t run around to figure out who is hexing it.”

Their eyes were trained on Harry as he climbed; he looped and swooped, spiraled, zigzagged, and rolled.

He looked rather funny, like he was stuck on a roller coaster, but it helped him stay faster than the ball.

Harry paused for a second–Zephyr cried out a warning.

Wham.

The Bludger had hit him at last, smashed into his arm.

“Shit! Is it broken?” Cas jumped to his feet and squinted. “I can't see!”

Harry made a mad dash and then sped towards the ground. The crowd gasped as he crashed, arm obviously destroyed, and stopped moving. The whistle blew as his teammates gathered around him.

“Well, the game is over,” Dorian said, getting up. “Shall we? I’m hungry.”

Chapter 23: 2.7

Notes:

i am so excited for you guys to see the third book. it is insane oh lord. i went slightly crazy with the plot whoops, but here's three chapters and then i'll dip for a bit as usual...

TW: ATTEMPTED RAPE/ NON-CON/ PEDOPHILLIA!!!!!!!

“A first year Gryffindor was petrified like Filch's cat,” Dorian said as they met up in the Common Room before breakfast.

"What?” Cas said. “Who?”

“Some guy named Collin.”

“The attacks are getting worse,” Cas said. “We need to step in.”

“How? We don't know what we’re dealing with. What if one of us ends up like them?” Matthias asked.

“Okay,” Cas settled down on the sofa. “Let’s list what we know so far. This thing can petrify people.”

“No one else can see it until they become victims,” Zephyr continued.

“What creatures does it fit?” Dorian sprawled beside Cas who shoved him off. 

They exchanged glares.

“Let's see,” Cas said. “If it isn't the work of a student, it could be a Gorgon or a Basilisk running around. A Gorgon turns people to stone, so perhaps not. That leaves the Basilisk being the most likely option.”

“But doesn't seeing the Basilisk kill instantly?” Matthias asked. “How are they still alive?”

“Does anyone know how they were found?” Dorian asked.

“Well, there was a pool of blood near the cat,” Matthias said. “And Collin always has his stupid camera.”

“They saw it second hand,” Cas realised. “That's why they're still alive.”

“How would it get around the school? Aren't they huge?” Dorian asked.

“They’re also snakes,” Zephyr said. “Pipes, maybe.”

“Pipes,” Cas sighed. “How big are our pipes? Can you imagine taking a nice hot shower and getting frozen?”

“And people finding you naked,” snorted Dorian. “I’d rather die.”

“Why?” Cas grinned. “Is there something you don't want people to know?”

“Shut up, Blackthorn.”

“Just saying…”

“Shut it.”

“Whatever.”

“Boys,” Zephyr cut in tiredly. “Focus.”

Cas pulled out a crumpled piece of parchment from his pocket, “I’ve been researching.”

“Nerd,” Dorian coughed.

Casspian ignored him, “so from what I know, they can go up to fifty feet long. Or, in your terms, around fifteen meters. They have very poisonous fangs, which makes it even more dangerous.”

“So if it doesn't kill you on sight, or would it be by sight, it’ll kill you by venom,” Dorian said and sighed. “How do we always end up in situations like this?”

“If you think hard, it’s actually Harry’s fault,” Cas said. “Quirrell came for him.”

Matthias blinked, “fill me in?”

They quickly ran through what happened in the previous year. Matthias’ red eyebrows inched upwards with every word.

“We have to open the Chamber of Secrets,” Cas concluded.

“How? Unless one of you is the Heir, I don't see how it's possible,” Zephyr said. She yawned.

“Axes work well.”

“No, we are not attacking the walls.”

“Fine,” Cas whined. “We could wait it out?”

“And let more people get hurt?” Matthias asked.

The dark haired boy threw up his hands in exasperation. “I don't see anyone giving any suggestions.”

“I hate to point this out,” Matthias said.

“Then don't—” Cas began.

The ginger ignored him, “—but we three are all pure blooded, excuse the lack of a better term. Only Zephyr isn't. We’re safe. She isn't.”
Cas laughed humorlessly, “let it try. She will never be harmed, not if I’m around.”

“Let's just wait it out, for now,” Zephyr said. “We can’t do much, besides offering me up as bait. Hey, don't look at me like that–I’m not suggesting that.”

---

A week later, they were gathered in the Great Hall at night, standing in the corner. Dorian had moaned and groaned about how the newly established Dueling Club was dumb. How could they fight a Basilisk if they couldn't even look at it?

The long dining tables had vanished and a golden stage had appeared along one wall, lit by thousands of candles floating overhead.

The ceiling was velvety black once more and most of the school seemed to be packed beneath it, all carrying their wands and looking excited.

Gilderoy Lockhart was walking onto the stage, resplendent in robes of deep plum and accompanied by none other than Snape, wearing his usual black.

“Oh, my god,” Zephyr said. “This will be good.”

Cas looked equally as gleeful, “I am so excited for this.”
Lockhart waved an arm for silence and called, “Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!“

“Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little dueling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions — for full details, see my published works.”

Cas scoffed loudly, producing a round of hushed giggles.

“Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape,” said Lockhart, flashing a wide smile. “He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don’t want any of you youngsters to worry — you’ll still have your Potions master when I’m through with him, never fear!”

Snape’s upper lip was curling.

“We all know the outcome,” Dorian yawned. “Can we just go to bed?”

“And what, miss Lockhart having his ass handed to him?” Cas retorted. “I wouldn't miss it for the world.”

Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other and bowed; at least, Lockhart did, with much twirling of his hands, whereas Snape jerked his head irritably. Then they raised their wands like swords in front of them.

“As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position,” Lockhart told the silent crowd. “On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course.”

“One, two, three—”

Both of them swung their wands above their heads and pointed them at their opponent; Snape cried: “Expelliarmus!”

Scarlet light shot through the air  and Lockhart was blasted off his feet. He was flug backward off the stage, smashed into the wall, and slid down it to sprawl on the floor.

Cas cheered loudly.

Lockhart was getting unsteadily to his feet. His hat had fallen off and his wavy hair was standing on end.

“Well, there you have it!” he said, tottering back onto the platform. “That was a Disarming Charm, as you see, I’ve lost my wand—ah, thank you, Miss Brown—yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don’t mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy — however, I felt it would be instructive to let them see . . .”

Snape was looking murderous.

Possibly Lockhart had noticed, because he said, “Enough demonstrating! I’m going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you’d like to help me.”

“You know what I’d love to see?” Lockhart said as he pranced towards them. “Casspian and Dorian, you two pair up. Zephyr, you’ll pair with me! We have an uneven amount of students here. Matthias, you can pair with Crabbe.”

Cas and Dorian began to protest but she shot them a look. They rolled their eyes but fell silent. Lockhart led her back to the platform.

“Face your partners!” called Lockhart, from in front of her. “And bow!”

She didn't bother to.

“Wands at the ready!” shouted Lockhart. “When I count to three, cast your charms to Disarm your opponents, only to disarm them, we don’t want any accidents. One, two, three…”

“Expelliarmus!” Zephyr cried. 

Sure, she was younger than Lockhart, but what made up for it was her training. Cas was a brutal teacher and, though not as good as her friends, she was ahead of many people.

Lockhart’s wand flew off into the air, into the crowd of people dueling.

He stared at her in shock, then barely hidden anger.

She smiled at him sweetly. “Cas taught me well.”

He wanted to reply but then caught sight of the chaos around them. He jumped up to stop the fights. Snape stepped in to break up a particularly heated one between Harry and Draco.

The hall slowly fell silent…besides from Cas and Dorian. They were lost in their own worlds.

Everyone watched them, even the Professors. No one could stop.

“Protego!” Cas cried, blocking a well-aimed Stupefy charm from Dorian.

They danced about, throwing shields and curses through the air. It was mesmerising. Both boys were viciously attacking each other, their friendship put in halt.

The air was filled with colourful lights. They spun, dodged and rolled to avoid each other's spells.

They were the two best fighters of their age and they were making sure everyone knew that.

Finally, Cas was faster, and Dorian was blasted to the floor. Their chest heaved as they grinned at each other. 

Cas helped him up and they hugged briefly, both covered in sweat.

“I think I’d better teach you how to block unfriendly spells,” said Lockhart, standing flustered in the midst of the hall.

He glanced at Snape, whose black eyes glinted, and looked quickly away. “Let’s have a volunteer pair—Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about you—”

"A bad idea, Professor Lockhart,” said Snape, gliding over like a large and malevolent bat “Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest spells. We’ll be sending what’s left of Finch up to the hospital wing in a matchbox.”

Neville’s round, pink face went pinker.

“How about Malfoy and Potter?” said Snape with a twisted smile.

“Excellent idea!” said Lockhart, gesturing Harry and Malfoy into the middle of the hall as the crowd backed away to give them room.

Zephyr jumped down to meet up with her friends. Cas and Dorian’s eyes were alight with happiness.

“God, that felt good,” Cas said with a contented sigh. “I know he’ll block any spell so I can finally go all out.”

“I’ll win next time,” Dorian said. 

“How was yours?” Cas asked Matthias.

“Good. Crabbe’s unconscious, I think,” Matthias shrugged.

“Lockhart was easy,” she added.

“That’s our girl,” Cas threw an arm around her. “Show that asshole who's the boss.”

“Now, Harry,” said Lockhart. “When Draco points his wand at you, you do this.”

He raised his own wand, attempted a complicated sort of wiggling action, and dropped it.

Snape smirked as Lockhart quickly picked it up, saying, “Whoops, my wand is a little overexcited.”

Snape moved closer to Malfoy, bent down, and whispered something in his ear. Malfoy smirked, too. 

“Three, two, one, go!” he shouted.

Malfoy raised his wand quickly and bellowed, “Serpensortia!”

The end of his wand exploded. Harry watched, aghast, as a long black snake shot out of it, fell heavily onto the floor between them, and raised itself, ready to strike.

There were screams as the crowd backed swiftly away, clearing the floor.

“Don’t move, Potter,” said Snape lazily, clearly enjoying the sight of Harry standing motionless, eye to eye with the angry snake. “I’ll get rid of it…”

“Allow me!” shouted Lockhart

He brandished his wand at the snake and there was a loud bang; the snake, instead of vanishing, flew ten feet into the air and fell back to the floor with a loud smack.

Enraged, hissing furiously, it slithered straight toward Zephyr and her friends and raised itself again, fangs exposed, poised to strike.

Cas pushed her behind him. Dorian jumped in front as well. They formed a human barricade before her.

Harry ran forward and screamed, “leave them alone!”

And the snake slumped to the floor, docile as a thick, black garden hose, its eyes now on Harry. 

“What the hell?” Dorian said. “He just spoke like a snake!”

“What?” Cas and Zephyr gave each other puzzled looks. “He spoke english.”

“No,” Matthias said slowly, “he did not.”

Snape stepped forward, waved his wand, and the snake vanished in a small puff of black smoke. Snape, too, was looking at Harry in an unreadable expression.

Then Harry was rushed out by his friends.

“Parselmouth,” Mathias whispered. “You all can speak to snakes. Let's go, now.”

They left the hall quickly.

“That explains everything!” Cas shouted. 

“Shh!”

He took a deep breath and calmed down, “that's why we three could hear the voices from the walls. We heard the Basilisk.”

“Why didn't we hear a loud hissing, then?” Dorian asked flatly.

“I don't know!”

“But what does it mean?” Zephyr asked. “Does it change anything?”

“It means we are likely to be the Heirs.” Cas said grimly. “And that Harry rose to the top of the suspect list. I mean, being able to speak Parseltongue is what Salazar was famous for.”

“We’ll wait for developments,” Dorian said firmly. “No use losing sleep over this.”

They stayed at Hogwarts during the Holidays. Matthias couldn't leave and they had to protect him. 

Christmas was spent playing card games and roaming the school. There were several more dueling sessions, all of which she won against Lockhart.

---

The developments came during February. Both Justin and Nearly Headless-Nick were found petrified. Harry had been found at the scene as well.

“I mean,” Cas drawled, sitting on his bed. “He is looking really suspicious.”

“If he was a huge snake, we would have known earlier,” Dorian said flatly from the floor. He was tossing an apple in the air.

“Woo, since when were you on board the ‘I love Potter’ train?” Cas asked.

Dorian aimed the fruit and tossed it. It bounced off Cas’ forehead. “Since when was there a fan club?”

“I feel like we are going off topic,” Matthias cut in from the window. He was perched on the sill, long legs awkwardly cramped to his chest.

Cas rubbed his head, “ow. Anyways, you may have a point Harlot. Okay, I know it wasn't Harry. But, why is the circumstances so…I don't know, aimed at Harry? It’s like it was created to frame him.”

“That implies the Basilisk has the ability to think and plan,” Zephyr said and leaned on Cas’ arm. He shifted to make her more comfortable.

“Which is bad,” he added unhelpfully. “I want food. Let's get breakfast before it runs out.”

Along the way, they bumped into the one and only Lockhart.

He was dressed in his usual overly bright and thick Victorian Era clothes. He smiled at them coldly.

“May I see Zephyr for a while? There is something I’d like to discuss with her, regarding yesterday.”

Dorian and Cas snorted simultaneously.

“Sure,” she replied, shooting her friends a look.

She followed him in silence to his office. He shut the door behind her and stood there, arms crossed as he just stared at her.

He wasn't smiling like he normally would. He looked pissed.

“You embarrassed me in front of everyone,” Lockhart stated in a low tone.

“What?”

“Every time we dueled, you won.”

Every hair on her body stood on end. Warning bells sounded in her head. She took a step back.

“No one was watching,” she said. “Everyone was focused on their own duel.”

“Snape saw.”

Zephyr didn't say anything. She was frantically trying to look for a way to escape. She had been alone with him so many times, but this time was different. It felt dangerous now.

He advanced on her and backed her up against the wall. Lockhart towered over her, shaking with rage.

“What are you doing?” She whispered.

“I am famous worldwide,” he seethed, eyes flashing. “And you reduced me into a wizard who can't stand his ground against a girl. You and your friends have destroyed any respect anyone has for me. I am tired of being treated so lowly.”

His hand shot out, grabbing her by the jaw to force her to look at him. His fingers dug into her skin and she whimpered.

Zephyr needed to get out. Now.

“I offered you help and this is what I get in return?”

“I’ll tell Casspian if you don't let me go now,” Zephyr bit out, trembling.

“Casspian this, Dorian that. You are nothing without them,” he said with a laugh.

“If I’m nothing, what does it make you?” 

She expected the blow that followed her words. It stung her cheek but she held firm, staring defiantly back.

Lockhart drew his fist back again, “I may not be good at many spells, but I am good at memory charms. That is how I get away with stealing others' stories. Once I’m done with you, you wont even remember what happened.”

He hit her once more, leaving her disoriented enough to pin her hands above her head. She struggled, crying out, but it was fruitless.

With his free hand, he began to loosen her tie.

“No! Stop!” She squirmed and kicked but nothing worked. He was still a man and she was just a child.

Her buttons were tackled next.

“I want to know what they see in you,” Lockhart grinned viciously. “I’ve been dreaming of this for months.”

Zephyr’s legs were jelly. She was fighting as hard as she could, but he was too strong. She was sobbing but he didn't care.

Her shirt was open now, exposing her to him. Zephyr was half out of her mind that all she could think was that she was so cold. 

His hand roamed her chest, slipping into her bra. She shuddered as he groped her roughly. Something hard poked her thigh and she refused to think about it.

Lockhart was grinding himself against her. She gave up fighting. Zephyr knew she couldn't win.

He reached for her pants. It fell to the floor a couple seconds later.

“No,” she pleaded. “Please.”

“You won't even remember it.”

His hands slipped downwards, below her underwear.

She closed her eyes, refusing to look. 

“So young,” he groaned into her ear, breathing heavily. “So untouched. All mine to ruin.”

There was a knock on the door. Lockhart froze. Then, with a scowl, he withdrew. 

“One moment,” he called, then turned back to her. “Wear your clothes quickly.”

Zephyr did, more than happy to. Once she was decent again, she slid to the ground, curling up on herself.

He gave her a scathing look and went to answer the door. He lingered there for a couple of seconds, cheerfully greeting several students who wanted some help with his homework.

Zephyr pulled out her wand and hesitated. What spell would help her without her being arrested? Would anyone even believe her?

He shut the door again and turned to her.

“Unfortunately, we can't continue,” Lockhart said with a sigh. “But I will finish this another day. In the meantime, Obliviate.”

Chapter 24: 2.8

Summary:

Okay, book three is 70% done, and it is dark. Very, very dark. Think–torture, murder, blood rituals, evil!Cas, politics. im very excited for the third to come out, but we have to finish the second first. once ive written the third, the updates will be quicker because the forth book is halfway done. dont ask why i wrote the forth before the third.

anyways, enjoy!

She grinned as she found her friends again. “Sorry, Lockhart wanted me to thank the person who gave us the information.”

“Urgh,” Cas rolled his eyes. “He’s so full of himself.”

“But you were gone much longer than you should have been,” Matthias said, head tilted.

“I was trying to avoid writing it,” she gave him a deadpan look. “He was insistent. I mean, why couldn't he just…sign my name there or something?”

“The handwriting would be an issue,” Dorian said as he jumped off his perch on the wall.

She shrugged, “then he could have done it on my behalf. It’s not like the person wants me to respond to her letter.”

"Fair point,” Dorian said. “C’mon, I’m hungry.”

“Wait, you two go on ahead,” Matthias said suddenly. “I need to ask Zephyr something.”

“Okay,” Cas said. “Be fast or we’ll eat everything. And by ‘we’, I mean Dorian.”

“Oi,” Dorian grumbled.

They headed off, bickering. 

“What’s up?” Zephyr asked.

“Let me tell you more about my family,” Matthias leaned against the wall, his hands tucked into his pockets. “My mother is known to be able to destroy minds very easily. We’re Legilimens. We can walk through people’s memories as easily as turning a page in a book.”

“So?”

“So,” he continued slowly. “I know when someone’s memory is tampered with. They all have this slightly airy look to them. You have a daze in your eyes, Zephyr. And you took almost an hour to write the letter. An hour.”

“I don't get you.”

“Every time you are alone with Lockhart, you’ve been absolutely disgusted. This time, you're fine,” he said.

“We just wrote a letter,” she gave him a strange look. “Are you okay?”

She was incredibly hungry. Zephyr was already imagining the food there. Surely there was some pudding or sweet treat awaiting her. It would be gone by the time Matthias was done.

“I think,” he said, “Lockhart did something to you.”

“Why would you think that?” She scoffed. “What, don't you think I can protect myself just fine?”

“I think you can, yes,” Matthias agreed readily. “But you have been crying. Your robes are wrinkled. You missed a button. Your cheek is bruised. It was not like that this morning. I am an incredibly observant person, Zephyr. Unlike Cas and Dorian who will always believe you regardless, I tend to use my eyes to get to conclusions.”

“What the hell do you mean?”

“I’m not saying anything bad about Cas and Dorian,” Matthias said quickly. “Don't get me wrong. They are my friends too. But they worship you and they trust your word over any evidence.”

She stared at him.

“What happened inside the study, Zephyr? Can you recall every detail?”

“Yes!” She snapped. “We sat down and we wrote.”

"Mhm,” he said slowly. “What were the words you wrote? What did he say? What did he wear? Was his curtains drawn?”

“Why would I remember this?” 

“Why wouldn't you?”

She halted. She did not remember what she wrote or what Lockhart wore. She would have. Zephyr knew she would have.

Why didn't she?

Why was her jaw hurting?

“You don't want to worry your friends, right?” Matthias asked.

“No…”

“Then I can do this in secret, help you recall,” he said quietly. “May I?”

“Here?”

“Soon. When you are ready for the memories."

She stared at him. He stared back.

“Okay.”

---

On February Fourteenth, they were greeted to a very cheery sight during breakfast.

The walls were all covered with large, lurid pink flowers. Worse still, heart-shaped confetti was falling from the pale blue ceiling. 

Lockhart, wearing bright pink robes to match the decorations, was waving for silence. The teachers on either side of him were looking stony-faced. From where he sat, Harry could see a muscle going in Professor McGonagall’s cheek. Snape looked disgusted.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” Lockhart shouted. “And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all — and it doesn’t end here!”

Lockhart clapped his hands and through the doors to the entrance hall marched a dozen surly-looking dwarfs. Not just any dwarfs, however. Lockhart had them all wearing golden wings and carrying harps.

“My friendly, card-carrying cupids!” beamed Lockhart. “They will be roving around the school today delivering your valentines! And the fun doesn’t stop here! I’m sure my colleagues will want to enter into the spirit of the occasion! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion! And while you’re at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I’ve ever met, the sly old dog!”

Professor Flitwick buried his face in his hands. Snape was looking as though the first person to ask him for a Love Potion would be force-fed poison.

Matthias looked at her. They hadn't had the chance to unlock her memory yet. She wanted to tell Cas first but hadn't mustered up the courage.

What would she say? 

The school term returned in full swing. It was pretty uneventful. She had no more run-ins with Lockhart, mainly because Matthias was keeping gery close guard on her, steering them the opposite direction any time he was near.

No attacks happened and it slowly slipped behind their minds as they focused on their grades. Most days were spent in the library, doing homework and studying.

Then, the day of the Quidditch match between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor came.

They sat at their usual spots, yawning and half asleep. Cas’ face was buried in a book.

“This match has been canceled,” Professor McGonagall called through the megaphone, addressing the packed stadium. There were boos and shouts.

Professor McGonagall continued to shout through her megaphone. “All students are to make their way back to the House common rooms, where their Heads of Houses will give them further information. As quickly as you can, please!”

“Oh,” Cas shut his book. “Okay. I guess we will start again. Seems like something happened.”

They filed towards the common room. 

“I wonder who was attacked,” Zephyr asked.

“All students will return to their House common rooms by six o’clock in the evening. No student is to leave the dormitories after that time. You will be escorted to each lesson by a teacher. No student is to use the bathroom unaccompanied by a teacher. All further Quidditch training and matches are to be postponed. There will be no more evening activities.”

Snape's voice droned on.

“I heard it was a double attack,” Dorian whispered.

“Finally,” Cas said. “I was so bored.”

“Hermione was one of the victims,” Matthias said.

“What?” Zephyr exclaimed and then ducked her head as everyone turned to stare.

“Tonight, we go out and we search hard,” Cas said grimly.

“No,” Matthias said. “Tonight, we’re doing something else, right Zeph’?”

“Matthias,” she trailed off. “I’m not ready.”

"Yes, you are.”

“What?” Cas blinked. “What's going on?”

“You’ll see.”

---

That night, they sat in the common room, just the four of them.

“You know how my family can read minds, to put it in a simple term,” Matthias said, sighing.

"Yeah?” Dorian nodded slowly.

“I suspect Lockhart wiped her memories. That day, when she was writing a letter with him, it didn't add up to me.”

She didn't speak.

“I don't get it,” Cas said.

“Her memories of that day are few. Far too little. I want to go through her mind and unlock them.”

“Will it hurt her?” Cas asked immediately.

“No.”

Cas turned to her, grey eyes solemn, “do you consent to this?”

“Yes,” she said softly.

“Do what you must, Arnoux.”

He placed his wand on her head, closing his eyes. Zephyr, trembling, did the same.

“I’ll start now,” Matthias’ voice was grim.

At first, it felt like nothing. Then, there was a mass in her head. It wasn't threatening. It felt like a comforting hug.

Then, she was swarmed by memories.

She was in Lockhart’s study. He was angry. He had her against the wall.

Then, he took her clothes off.

He assaulted her.

Someone knocked on the door in her mind and Matthias pulled back.

They were both heaving, eyes wide.

“Oh, god,” he whispered.

She threw up on the floor and broke down into tears, the feeling of his hands on her. 

“Zephyr!” Cas exclaimed and pulled her against him. “What? What did you see?”

“Oh, god,” Matthias repeated. “Oh, my god.”

Dorian was sitting there, blinking rapidly as he processed the scene before him.

“He…” she heaved. “He assaulted me. Se-sexually. And then, he made me lose my memories.”

Cas stared at her, arms wrapped protectively around her. Then, he pressed his forehead to hers.

“I am so sorry,” he whispered. “For not protecting you again.”

“Cas, it wasn't your fault,” Dorian said. “Only Lockhart’s. I knew that day when he touched her shoulder something was off.”

“It wasn't just that day,” Zephyr said quietly.

She told them of everything he had done to her, the threats, the touches, his words. It spilled out of her in torrents. Once she started speaking, she couldn't stop.

By the end, Cas was dead silent. His eyes were emotionless. Dorian was clenching the sofa, knuckles white. Matthias was just sitting there, stunned.

Abruptly, Cas shot up. He shrugged on his jacket that he had tossed on the sofa.

“Cas,” she grabbed his hand. “Please. Not now.”

Zephyr didn't know what she was begging him to do.

“Not now?” He seethed, turning to her. “Did he ever have that consideration for you? Why do you want to protect him? Why did you protect him for so long? If you told me sooner, it wouldn't have ended up like this!”

“Stay with me,” she told him, sobbing hard. “Don't leave.”

Casspian’s eyes softened and he crouched down, eye-to-eye with her. He grabbed her hands, thumbs rubbing across her palms.

He took a deep breath and nodded, “okay. I’m here. No one can get to you ever again.”

“What are we going to do?” Dorian asked. “Even death is too merciful for him.”

Cas sighed, “I know.”

---

The next day, before they could take any action, another attack happened. This time, Ginny Weasely was taken into the Chamber.

They were all told to pack because they were to be sent home. They sat in the Common Room, surrounded by their Housemates, all chatting amongst themselves.

“Time for us to shine, I guess,” Cas said, stretching. “We deal with this monster, then we deal with Lockhart.”

“First things first,” he continued. “We need a way to look at the Basilisk without being petrified as well. I can’t think of a way, so we need to shut our eyes. Pray our aim is true and we do not hurt each other.”

“How?” Dorian asked. 

“We stick by each other and don't wander off. As long as we know where each other are, we can manage this…unless I go in alone.”

“Absolutely not!” Zephyr protested.

He gave her a smile, “of course not. So, we follow plan A. Plan B is if we are completely fucked and we just shoot. We can figure out how to cure each other later–which means, non-lethal spells. Use the ones you learnt in Year One.”

Dorian nodded, “okay.”

Cas got up. 

Hills caught sight of the movement, “sit down, Blackthorn.”

Dorian was next. Then, Matthias and Zephyr followed.

“Do not do what I think you’re going to do,” Hills yelled.

“Stupefy,” Cas said and Hills fell to the ground. “Anyone else?”

There was silence. 

“Okay, right then,” Cas headed for the door.

They slipped out from the Common Room, all their faces stoney. Slowly, they snuck their way towards the girls bathroom.

Harry had told them enough for them to piece everything together. They knew where the entrance was.

Inside, it was dead silent. Even the ghost that haunted the place was quiet. She pointed them to the hole in the sink area.

“Ron and Harry went down there, with a professor.”

“Which?”

“Lockhart.”

“Lovely, we get to deal with two things at once,” Cas said brightly and slipped into the hole. “Oh, a slide!”

They followed behind closely, wands brandished. Zephyr slid for what seemed to be forever before she was deposited onto the floor of a wet tunnel.

“Lumos,” Cas muttered. It barely cut through the heavy darkness.

Ahead, they heard voices.

“Get up,” said Ron sharply.

“Hello, boys,” Cas greeted.

Lockhart was on his ass, shaking like a leaf. At their arrival, all of them glanced up…

It was a mistake. The attention on Lockhart was momentarily diverted. Lockhart got to his feet and then he dived at Ron, knocking him to the ground.

Harry jumped forward, but too late…Lockhart was straightening up, panting, Ron’s wand in his hand and a gleaming smile back on his face.

Cas was poised at the ready, snarling, “put the fucking wand down. We know what you did to Zephyr.”

“Not after what I’ll do. The adventure ends here!” He said. “I shall take a bit of this skin back up to the school, tell them I was too late to save the girl, and that you six tragically lost your minds at the sight of her mangled body. Say good-bye to your memories!”

He raised Ron’s wand high over his head and yelled, “Obliviate!”

Cas was faster. He had always been faster. “Petrificus Totalus!”

Lockhart froze and then his own spell hit him, thanks to Ron’s broken wand. He toppled to the ground like a statue.

“Idiot,” Dorian muttered as Cas approached the man.

“Look away now, if you want,” Cas called to them.

Ron and Harry turned around.

Then, he drew his leg back. Casspian delivered blow after blow on the man, unrelenting in his fury. The man couldn't move but she could see the pain in his wide eyes.

Crack. His ribs broke. 

Snap. His arm was next.

Cas stomped on Lockhart’s hand, mangling it into a bloody mess.

“Don't,” he said through gritted teeth. “Mess with Zephyr.”

“Enough,” she said. “Cas.”

He stopped, shoulders heaving. Then, he stepped back. “Incendio.”

Lockhart was set on fire. Flames licked up his broken body, engulfing him. 

Zephyr cried out but Dorian grabbed her, hauling her back. Matthias watched emotionlessly, hand tucked in his pocket.

“Let's go,” Cas said softly. “No time to waste.”

“Is he…dead?” Zephyr asked, heart racing.

“He will be,” Cas replied darkly, looking back at them.

His eyes…God, his eyes. They were dark and full of hate. There was no compassion nor remorse. He was Casspian Blackthorn, son of murderers, and now, he was one as well.

Zephyr, for the first time ever, was terrified of her best friend. She stared at him and his gaze softened just a bit.

“Argumenti,” Cas said with resignation.

The man stopped burning. He wasn't even recognisable now. 

“Ron, stay with him,” Cas instructed sharply. “Do not argue with me. I have no mercy left in me.”

Ron nodded dumbly.

“Now, we go,” Cas headed off into the gloom.

The rest of them hurried after him. Zephyr gagged as the smell of burnt flesh filled her nose. 

Lockhart did deserve it but…what Cas did was too far.

The tunnel turned and turned again. They walked in an uncomfortable silence. Cas’ body was full of tension.

At last, as they rounded yet another bend, they saw a solid wall ahead on which two entwined serpents were carved, their eyes set with great, glinting emeralds.

Harry approached first.

There was no need to pretend these stone snakes were real; their eyes looked strangely alive.

“Open,” said Harry, in a low, faint hiss.

The serpents parted as the wall cracked open, the halves slid smoothly out of sight. They glanced at each other, besides Cas who didn't seem to want to look at them, and walked in.

Chapter 25: 2.9

Summary:

yes, i updated yesterday.
yes, i finished the third book in one day.

to give you guys motivation to continue reading, let me just spoil the third book slightly and say that i tossed the bloodtraitors into a war at the end of the book. whilst writing it, i kept reminding myself to hold back some plot for the next few books but the whole plan went to the trash and the third book is insane. too chaotic but i like how it turned out, so I'll figure out what happens next.

enjoy the rest of the second book, updates coming in hothothot!!

They were standing at the end of a very long, dimly lit chamber. Towering stone pillars entwined with more carved serpents rose to support a ceiling lost in darkness, casting long, black shadows through the odd, greenish gloom that filled the place.

As one, they moved forward between the serpentine columns. Every careful footstep echoed loudly off the shadowy walls. It was chilly in here, the smell of rot and damp hanging heavily in the air.

The hollow eye sockets of the stone snakes seemed to be following Zephyr. Shadows seemed to dance and flirt around the corner of her vision, making her jump. She wanted to hold Cas’ hand but he was walking far too fast.

Then, as they drew level with the last pair of pillars, a statue high as the Chamber itself loomed into view, standing against the back wall.

Zephyr had to crane her neck to look up into the giant face above: it was ancient and monkeyish, with a long, thin beard that fell almost to the bottom of the wizard’s sweeping stone robes, where two enormous grey feet stood on the smooth Chamber floor.

Between the feet, facedown, lay a small, black-robed figure with flaming-red hair.

“Ginny!” Harry cried, sprinting to her and dropping to his knees. “Ginny, don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead—” He flung his wand aside, grabbed Ginny’s shoulders, and turned her over. 

Caa surveyed the area and Zephyr finally mustered up the courage to approach him. She slowly reached for his hand, hers shaking. He glanced down and then grasped her, interlocking their fingers.

“Ginny, please wake up,” Harry muttered desperately, shaking her. Ginny’s head lolled hopelessly from side to side.

“She won’t wake,” said a soft voice.

They whipped around.

A tall, black-haired boy was leaning against the nearest pillar, watching. He looked scarily similar to Cas, just slightly older and taller. They shared the same jawline, dark curly hair (although Cas’ was way messier), same blankness in their eyes. 

He was drop dead gorgeous. Zephyr couldn't lie to herself about that. 

He was strangely blurred around the edges, as though Zephyr were looking at him through a misted window. He seemed so familiar.

“Tom — Tom Riddle?” Harry asked hesitantly.

“Who?” Zephyr asked.

Riddle frowned, a bit thrown off that she didn't know who he was but kept his eyes on Harry’s face.  

“Oh, okay, we’re not here then,” Dorian said with an arrogant roll of his eyes.

Matthias was doing a slow walk around the Chamber, observing the architecture. Zephyr wanted to scream at him to pay attention.

“What d’you mean, she won’t wake?” Harry said desperately. “She’s not…she’s not—?”

“She’s still alive,” said Riddle. “But only just.”    

“Are you a ghost?” Harry asked. 

“A memory,” said Riddle quietly. “Preserved in a diary for fifty years.”

He pointed toward the floor near the statue’s giant toes. Lying open there was a little black diary.

“Be on your guard,” Cas whispered as they backed away. “Something is wrong with him.”

Tom stooped down and grasped Harry’s wand in one graceful swoop. He straightened back up.

Dorian furrowed his eyebrows and strolled forward in a foolish act of bravery that could only belong to Gryffindor, and stared at Tom.

“You…” Dorian began, “you can't be…?”

“Oh, but I am,” Tom said with a cruel smile.

“You are dead.”

“Am I?”

Dorian crossed his arms and shook his head, “rubbish.”

Anger flashed in Tom’s eyes but Dorian just shrugged and turned away.

Bewilderment crossed the other boy’s face as her blond friend seemed to lose all interest in him.

“No one has ever turned their back on me,” Tom said, mouth agape.

“Tough,” Dorian drawled as he reached Matthias.

“You’ve got to help me, Tom,” Harry said, raising Ginny’s head again. “We’ve got to get her out of here. There’s a basilisk . . . I don’t know where it is, but it could be along any moment. . . . Please, help me—”

Riddle didn’t move. Harry, sweating, managed to hoist Ginny half off the floor. Matthias went to help him. The two boys held her up. 

“Did you see—?” Harry looked up. 

Riddle was still watching him—twirling Harry’s wand between his long fingers.

“Thanks,” said Harry, stretching out his hand for it

A smile curled the corners of Riddle’s mouth. He continued to stare at Harry, twirling the wand idly. Dorian inched towards their sides, suddenly pale.

The three of them stood, shoulder-to-shoulder, in front of Harry, Ginny and Matthias. 

“Listen,” said Harry urgently. “We’ve got to go! If the basilisk comes—”

“It won’t come until it is called,” said Riddle calmly.

“What d’you mean?” he said. “Look, give me my wand, I might need it—”

Dorian leaned over, “Quirrell.”

“What?” Cas and Zephyr exclaimed in unison.

Riddle’s smile broadened. “You won’t be needing it,” he said.

“What d’you mean, I won’t be—?”

“I’ve waited a long time for this, Harry Potter,” said Riddle. “For the chance to see you. To speak to you.”

“Look,” said Harry, “I don’t think you get it. We’re in the Chamber of Secrets. We can talk later —”

“We’re going to talk now,” said Riddle, still smiling broadly, and he pocketed Harry’s wand.

“No, we are not,” Cas called out darkly.

“Casspian Blackthorn,” Riddle said. “Dorian Harlot. Matthias Arnoux…and you, Zephyr Sylvester. The infamous Bloodtraitors. World-renowned, feared across the globe.”

“We meet again,” Zephyr spoke. 

It clicked in her mind. She knew who he was.

“You nearly killed me the last time we met,” Tom Riddle, also known as Voldemort, or her old Professor Quirrell. 

“Oh,” Cas said softly as he also pieced it together. “You. You knocked Zephyr unconscious.”

“How did Ginny get like this?” Harry asked slowly.

“Well, that’s an interesting question,” said Riddle pleasantly. “And quite a long story. I suppose the real reason Ginny Weasley’s like this is because she opened her heart and spilled all her secrets to an invisible stranger.”

“What are you talking about?” said Harry

“The diary,” said Riddle. “My diary. Little Ginny’s been writing in it for months and months, telling me all her pitiful worries and woes — how her brothers tease her, how she had to come to school with secondhand robes and books, how,” Riddle’s eyes glinted, “how she didn’t think famous, good, great Harry Potter would ever like her.”

“It’s very boring, having to listen to the silly little troubles of an eleven-year-old girl,” he went on. “But I was patient. I wrote back. I was sympathetic, I was kind. Ginny simply loved me. No one’s ever understood me like you, Tom. . . . I’m so glad I’ve got this diary to confide in. . . . It’s like having a friend I can carry around in my pocket.” Riddle laughed, a high, cold laugh that didn’t suit him.

Every inch of Zephyr’s skin was crawling.

“Ah,” it was Matthias' turn to figure out who he was. “I see. Sorry, I’m a bit slow on the uptake.”

Dorian snorted.

“If I say it myself, Harry, I’ve always been able to charm the people I needed. So Ginny poured out her soul to me, and her soul happened to be exactly what I wanted. I grew stronger and stronger on a diet of her deepest fears, her darkest secrets. I grew powerful, far more powerful than little Miss Weasley. Powerful enough to start feeding Miss Weasley a few of my secrets, to start pouring a little of my soul back into her.”

“What d’you mean?” Asked Harry.

“Haven’t you guessed yet, Harry Potter? Your friends have.” said Riddle softly. “Ginny Weasley opened the Chamber of Secrets. She strangled the school roosters and daubed threatening messages on the walls. She set the serpent of Slytherin on four Mudbloods, and the Squib’s cat.”

“No,” Harry whispered.

“Yes,” said Riddle calmly. “Of course, she didn’t know what she was doing at first. It was very amusing. I wish you could have seen her new diary entries . . . far more interesting, they became. . . . Dear Tom,” he recited, “I think I’m losing my memory. There are rooster feathers all over my robes and I don’t know how they got there. Dear Tom, I can’t remember what I did on the night of Halloween, but a cat was attacked and I’ve got paint all down my front. Dear Tom, Percy keeps telling me I’m pale and I’m not myself. I think he suspects me. There was another attack today and I don’t know where I was. Tom, what am I going to do? I think I’m going mad. . . . I think I’m the one attacking everyone, Tom!”

“It took a very long time for stupid little Ginny to stop trusting her diary,” said Riddle. “But she finally became suspicious and tried to dispose of it. And that’s where you came in, Harry. You found it, and I couldn’t have been more delighted. Of all the people who could have picked it up, it was you, the very person I was most anxious to meet…”

“And why did you want to meet me?” said Harry. 

“Well, you see, Ginny told me all about you, Harry,” said Riddle. “Your whole fascinating history. I knew I had to meet you if I could. So I decided to show you my famous capture of that great oaf, Hagrid, to gain your trust —”

“Hagrid’s my friend,” said Harry, his voice now shaking. “And you framed him, didn’t you? I thought you made a mistake, but—”

Riddle laughed his high laugh again.

“Okay!” Dorian cut in, rolling his eyes, “are you done with your evil monologue? It's boring!”

They gaped at Dorian, who seemed to be set on bullying the Dark Lord. He was always the meanest out of their group, but surely he had lost his mind? 

Dorian wasn't suicidal.

Well, at least, Zephyr didn't think he was.

“Shut up, Arnoux. I’ll get to you later. It was my word against Hagrid’s, Harry. Well, you can imagine how it looked to old Armando Dippet. On the one hand, Tom Riddle, poor but brilliant, parentless but so brave, school prefect, model student . . . on the other hand, big, blundering Hagrid, in trouble every other week, trying to raise werewolf cubs under his bed, sneaking off to the Forbidden Forest to wrestle trolls . . . but I admit, even I was surprised how well the plan worked. I thought someone must realize that Hagrid couldn’t possibly be the Heir of Slytherin. It had taken me five whole years to find out everything I could about the Chamber of Secrets and discover the secret entrance...as though Hagrid had the brains, or the power!”

“Only the Transfiguration teacher, Dumbledore, seemed to think Hagrid was innocent. He persuaded Dippet to keep Hagrid and train him as gamekeeper. Yes, I think Dumbledore might have guessed...Dumbledore never seemed to like me as much as the other teachers did...”

“I bet Dumbledore saw right through you,” said Harry, his teeth gritted.

“Well, he certainly kept an annoyingly close watch on me after Hagrid was expelled,” said Riddle carelessly. “I knew it wouldn’t be safe to open the Chamber again while I was still at school. But I wasn’t going to waste those long years I’d spent searching for it. I decided to leave behind a diary, preserving my sixteen-year-old self in its pages, so that one day, with luck, I would be able to lead another in my footsteps, and finish Salazar Slytherin’s noble work.”

“But you aren't his chosen one,” Cas said with a grin. “I am. And you hate that.”

“Blackthorn, a family of Dark royalty. You would have been king if you continued on your God-planned path, but you strayed. You have the Slytherin Wand, used by Salazar himself,” Tom said bitterly.

“What?” Dorian exclaimed.

“Surprise! I’m the owner of the wand.” Cas replied distractedly.

“No, not the wand,” Riddle’s eyes settled on Zephyr who went still. “Zephyr is. I bet she has yet to tell a soul.”

“What is he talking about?” Matthias asked, his voice shaking.

“My wand,” she said quietly. “It's the exact replica of the Elder Wand. It's just a bit smaller but…I have the sister wand. I was warned to keep it to myself until I die.”

"What is this, a gossip session?" Dorian asked, groaning. "Tom, you have grown boring."

“Dorian, wait your turn. You'll get my attention soon," Tom turned to them. "Casspian Blackthorn, owner of the wand of Slytherin, and Zephyr Slyvester-Lee, owner of the sister of the Elder Wand. You two never met by coincidence. You met by fate. If neither of you had silly little fantasies of saving others, you two could bring the world to its knees. The power you two have is incredible. It really is a shame we weren't from the same time period.”

Tom’s eyes flickered to Dorian’s. “And Arnoux. Your family has been loyal to me for generations. It is a shame you broke that tradition.”

“Yeah, well, having you over for tea wasn't all that fun,” sneered Dorian.

“I watched you grow up from a bumbling toddler to a young man with hatred in his heart,” Tom snapped. “You had more ambition than your brainless father who only knew how to roll over and play fetch. You could have been in my Inner Circle.”

“Yeah, not really interested after you snapped my broom in half!” Dorian yelled, face twisted in anger. “I was eight! It was the newest broom!”

Zephyr’s jaw dropped. The Dark Lord and her best friend had a…personal grudge against each other?

Tom’s laughter was dark as he said, “you should have stuck to the books I gave you. Of all the children of my followers, you were the brightest and most vicious, even as a child.”

“Then you shouldn't have destroyed my damned broom,” Dorian muttered. “You lost my respect after that.”

“No matter, Dorian, I can win you back,” Tom said, eyes gleaming.

"No number of brooms and Quidditch kits would make me forgive you."

“Well, you haven’t finished what you started,” said Harry triumphantly. “No one’s died this time, not even the cat. In a few hours the Mandrake Draught will be ready and everyone who was Petrified will be all right again—"

“Haven’t I already told you,” said Riddle quietly, “that killing Mudbloods doesn’t matter to me anymore? For many months now, my new target has been you.”

Harry stared at him.

“Imagine how angry I was when the next time my diary was opened, it was Ginny who was writing to me, not you. She saw you with the diary, you see, and panicked. What if you found out how to work it, and I repeated all her secrets to you? What if, even worse, I told you who’d been strangling roosters?”

“So the foolish little brat waited until your dormitory was deserted and stole it back. But I knew what I must do. It was clear to me that you were on the trail of Slytherin’s heir. From everything Ginny had told me about you, I knew you would go to any lengths to solve the mystery, particularly if one of your best friends was attacked. And Ginny had told me the whole school was buzzing because you could speak Parseltongue.”

“So I made Ginny write her own farewell on the wall and come down here to wait. She struggled and cried and became very boring. But there isn’t much life left in her. She put too much into the diary, into me. Enough to let me leave its pages at last. I have been waiting for you to appear since we arrived here. I knew you’d come. I have many questions for you, Harry Potter. And the Bloodtraitors will always show up.”

“Like what?” Harry spat, fists still clenched.“Well,” said Riddle, smiling pleasantly, “how is it that you, a skinny boy with no extraordinary magical talent — managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time? How did you escape with nothing but a scar, while Lord Voldemort’s powers were destroyed?”

There was an odd red gleam in his hungry eyes now.

“Why do you care how I escaped?” said Harry slowly. “Voldemort was after your time. . . .”

“Voldemort,” said Riddle softly, “is my past, present, and future, Harry Potter. . . .”

He pulled Harry’s wand from his pocket and began to trace it through the air, writing three shimmering words:

TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE.

Then he waved the wand once, and the letters of his name rearranged themselves:

I AM LORD VOLDEMORT.

“Lame!” Dorian hissed, glowering.

Tom threw him an irritated glare.

“When do we run?” Zephyr whispered.

Cas shook his head. “No. No more running.”

“You see?” he whispered. “It was a name I was already using at Hogwarts, to my most intimate friends only, of course. You think I was going to use my filthy Muggle father’s name forever? I, in whose veins runs the blood of Salazar Slytherin himself, through my mother’s side? I keep the name of a foul, common Muggle, who abandoned me even before I was born, just because he found out his wife was a witch? No, Harry — I fashioned myself a new name, a name I knew wizards everywhere would one day fear to speak, when I had become the greatest sorcerer in the world!”

“No,” Cas said calmly. “You not.”

“Not what?” snapped Riddle.

“Not the greatest sorcerer in the world,” said Harry, breathing fast. “The title goes to Dumbledore. And, after his time, it’ll go to Casspian Blackthorn.”

“Hey,” Cas said with a start. “We’re related! You and me. You’re my, what, great, great, grand something.”

“Not now, Cas,” the three of them groaned.

“Fine,” grumbled the boy.

“Dumbledore’s been driven out of this castle by the mere memory of me!” he hissed.

Then, music was coming from somewhere. Riddle whirled around to stare down the empty Chamber. The music was growing louder. It was eerie, spine-tingling, unearthly.

“What the hell?” Cas muttered.

A crimson bird the size of a swan had appeared, piping its weird music to the vaulted ceiling. It had a glittering golden tail as long as a peacock’s and gleaming golden talons, which were gripping a ragged bundle.

A second later, the bird was flying straight at Harry. It dropped the ragged thing it was carrying at his feet, then landed heavily on his shoulder. As it folded its great wings, Zephyr looked up and saw it had a long, sharp golden beak and a beady black eye.

The bird stopped singing. 

“That’s a phoenix...” said Riddle, staring shrewdly back at it.

“And that,” said Riddle, now eyeing the ragged thing that Fawkes had dropped, “that’s the old school Sorting Hat—”

So it was. Patched, frayed, and dirty, the hat lay motionless at Harry’s feet.

Riddle began to laugh again. He laughed so hard that the dark Chamber rang with it, as though ten Riddles were laughing at once.

“This is what Dumbledore sends his defender! A songbird and an old hat! Do you feel brave, Harry Potter? Do you feel safe now?”

“Twice, in your past, in my future, we have met. And twice I failed to kill you. How did you survive? Tell me everything. The longer you talk,” he added softly, “the longer you stay alive.”

“No one knows why you lost your powers when you attacked me,” said Harry abruptly. “I don’t know myself. But I know why you couldn’t kill me."

"Because my mother died to save me. My common Muggle-born mother,” he added, shaking with suppressed rage. “She stopped you from killing me. And I’ve seen the real you, I saw you last year. You’re a wreck. You’re barely alive. That’s where all your power got you. You’re in hiding. You’re ugly, you’re foul—”

Riddle’s face contorted. Then he forced it into an awful smile.

“So. Your mother died to save you. Yes, that’s a powerful counter-charm. I can see now...there is nothing special about you, after all. I wondered, you see. Because there are strange likenesses between us, Harry Potter. Even you must have noticed. Both half-bloods, orphans, raised by Muggles. Probably the only few Parselmouths to come to Hogwarts since the great Slytherin himself. We even look something alike. But after all, it was merely a lucky chance that saved you from me. That’s all I wanted to know.”

“Now, I’m going to teach you a little lesson. Let’s match the powers of Lord Voldemort, Heir of Salazar Slytherin, against famous Harry Potter, and the best weapons Dumbledore can give him...”

“You're forgetting us,” Cas snarled. “I am Casspian Blackthorn, son of mass murderers, the youngest Bloodtraitor. I am the Heir to the Slytherin wand. By my side are three of the most skilled warriors of our age. You want to get to him? You have to go through us.”

He cast an amused eye on them and then walked away. 

Riddle stopped between the high pillars and looked up into the stone face of Slytherin, high above him in the half-darkness.

Tom opened his mouth wide and hissed, but Zephyr understood what he was saying: “Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four.”

They wheeled around to look up at the statue. Slytherin’s gigantic stone face was moving. 

Zephyr watched, terrified as its mouth opened, wider and wider, to make a huge black hole.

And something was stirring inside the statue’s mouth. Something was slithering up from its depths.

“Eyes shut!” Cas called.

It was terrifying to keep her eyes closed as the great king of snakes entered the chamber. Something huge hit the stone floor of the Chamber. 

Then he heard Riddle’s hissing voice. “Kill them."

Cas, Dorian and her exploded into action at once. She could hear them running. They’ve been through so much together that they worked like a well-oiled machine.

Having vision was not necessary. 

“Concretum comedenti,” Cas cried from her left. “Mouth is disabled!”

“Obscuro,” Dorian followed next, sounding gleeful. “No vision and no fangs!”

“What is going on?” Matthias yelled. “Ow! Wall!”

“Confugo!” Zephyr threw the curse. “Let it knock itself unconscious!”

“No!” Riddle exclaimed. “Stop!”

“Don't mess with my fucking toys then, Voldemort!” Dorian snapped.

"It was just a broom!” Tom’s tone was exasperated. “I could have gotten you a new one!”

“You didn't even fucking apologise,” growled Harlot.

“Immobulus!” Cas yelled. “You can see now!”

Zephyr’s eyes snapped open. The snake was…kind of hilarious.

The enormous serpent, bright, poisonous green, thick as an oak trunk, had raised itself high in the air and its great blunt head frozen between pillars. A large cloth was placed over its eyes that it couldn't shake loose. A large, solid object blocked its airway. 

“Well,” Cas said, coming to a stop beside her. “That was easy.”

Dorian’s predatory gaze settled on Tom Riddle who was staring at his pet in shock. “Now, you.”

Riddle cried out, “Finite!”

The snake was free from their charms but it was still too late. The bird swooped and its eyes were gone, blood dripping down.

“Confugo!” Dorian casted, a vicious grin on his lips. 

The snake slammed itself into the pillar, shaking the cavern. Rocks pelted down on them.

Harry was suddenly holding a sword–Zephyr wondered if all Gryffindors kept blades in their robes. He charged forward and the Basilisk struck. Harry drove the weapon into the roof of its great mouth.

It stopped moving and fell to the side, very much dead. 

“Dorian, go to Harry,” Cas yelled as he sprinted towards Voldemort who was now retreating. “This one is mine.”

“No, I have a score to settle!” Dorian ground out.

Tom Riddle, wandless but powerful, turned to face her friends. His face was pale.

“Dorian, if your hatred for me is solely because of the broom,” Voldemort began.

Dorian rolled his eyes, “you told me I was powerful and then broke my young heart. It was my prized possession.”

Tom sighed heavily and then stepped back when Cas moved forward.

Zephyr figured out, with a start, that the Dark Lord had realised he met his match.

Caa swept his hair from his face, “Avada K—”

“Aparate!” Tom vanished into thin air.

“Fuck!” Cas screamed in frustration. “Come back here, you absolute cowardly, lying, cheating, fucking piece of shit!”

“You owe me my fucking broom!” Dorian cried. "I hate Quidditch because of you!"

Zephyr scooped up the diary, her mind whirling. Then, gently, she set it aflame.

A loud wail echoed through the chamber. 

“Smart,” Cas regarded her with surprise. “Good work.”

“Cas!” Matthias said. “Harry’s poisoned!”

Indeed, he was. They gathered around him, a large puncture mark on his arm.

“Doesn't the venom kill?” Matthias asked nervously.

“Erm,” Cas blinked. “Okay. Okay, so…”

The bird laid its head on Harry’s arm and began to cry.

What the hell? Dorian and her exchanged puzzled looks but their ginger friend’s eyes were wide with relief.

“Phoenix tears can heal,” Matthias explained, kneeling on the floor.

Harry slowly awoke. He stared at them, confused.

“Can you walk?” Cas asked as he hauled him up.

“Yes,” he replied shakily.

“When you get out of here, tell them you destroyed the diary,” Zephyr said.

Cas nodded. “We were never here.”

“What? Why?” Harry asked.

“Because we don't need more reputation,” Cas said with a grin. “You go on ahead. We’ll catch up.”

Harry slowly got to his feet. Then, hauling a half-conscious Ginny up, they trudged back towards the entrance of the chamber.

Cas beamed at them, “do you think that if I destroyed this place, the whole school would crumble down?”

“It definitely will,” Dorian said.

Matthias, still pale, asked them, “is this what you three do every week? Fight the Dark Lord and kill things?”

“Something like that,” Cas laughed. “God, my body hurts. C’mon, let's go get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a celebration.”

He threw his arm around Zephyr and tugged her close, “good job, everyone. Now, we wait for our next adventure.”

“Since when could you do the killing curse?” Dorian asked Cas as they limped towards the exit.

“Oh, no,” Cas said. “I can't. It was for show, to be honest.”

“You wanted to scare the Dark Lord?” Matthias asked, amused.

“Something like that, yeah,” Cas shrugged. “And Arnoux, you had a personal relationship with him?”

“I didn't know he was the Dark Lord till I was much older,” Dorian grumbled. “He came over to talk to my parents every week and he’ll give me books on curses every time. He liked me, in a way. Tom always said I reminded him of himself. I thought he was just a really cool, scary uncle until he broke my broom. I had literally just gotten it a week before. The wood was still shining!”

“Next time, you should mention that the Dark Lord is your childhood friend,” Matthias cracked up.

 

Chapter 26: 3.0

Summary:

AND WE ARE FINALLY HERE!!'

third book is where the action truly begins and my story deviates from the original plot of the harry potter series.

anyways, buckle down, hold on tight. the ride is about to begin.

“Guys,” Zephyr Sylvester-Lee called out tiredly from her couch. “Please. They aren't healthy.”

Casspian Blackthorn raised his third cup of Tom Yum noodles in the air. 

He sat on the floor, surrounded by a mess of packaging. “And? We almost get killed several times a year which is even less healthy.”

“Cheers to that,” Matthias Arnoux drained his container and reached for a new one that had been cooking on the counter. 

Dorian Harlot didn't even bother responding–he was too busy picking out a new flavour to try.

Zephyr groaned loudly. As her Christmas present to her friends, she had bought three of each flavoured Cup Noodles she could find at her local asian grocery. She meant it to last the entire holiday before they went back to Hogwarts. The large haul lasted exactly two days.

“You know,” Cas said, “we should practice some magic. I mean, I barely started on the new syllabus.”

“You are such a nerd,” Dorian snorted. “Who would ever think that Casspian Blackthorn, the son of two murderers, a Bloodtraitor, Heir to the Slytherin Wand, was a bookworm?”

“Oh, shut it,” Cas said with a roll of his eyes. “Must you always say my entire title?”

“It's pretty cool,” Matthias said.

It was. When Cas was ten, he had gotten his entire family arrested for their crimes and was granted unconditional immunity from the Ministry Of Magic. After that, he went out to make a name for himself. Now, people say he was feared worldwide.

Although, as Zephyr watched him spill his soup on the hardwood floor, she wished people could see the version of him she loved.

Dorian Harlot was pretty well known, too. After getting his family arrested for their association with the Dark Arts, he would be inheriting his family's wealth, which was about forty percent of all money in the wizarding world, once he turned eighteen. 

Matthias Arnoux, the newest addition to their oddball family, was the son of a murderer as well. He was under their protection from his psychotic mother, who wanted him dead.

Zephyr wasn't sure how she befriended such interesting people, but she cared for them deeply and would die for them.

“Have you heard?” Matthias asked.

“Heard what?”

“Let me finish my sentence, Blackthorn. As I was saying,” Matthias shot a dirty look at Cas who was busy mopping the floor with paper towels. “I heard Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban.”

“No way!” Dorian slammed her drawer shut a bit too roughly and then gave her an apologetic look. “Like, the murderer?”

“No, like the newspaper boy–yes, Dorian, the murderer,” Matthias deadpanned. “There aren't that many Sirius Blacks.”

Zephyr frowned, “I thought it was impossible to escape from Azkaban?”

“Nearly impossible,” Cas corrected. “Very hard to, at least.”

“So, what,” Zephyr asked through a yawn, “we now have to deal with another killer?”

“Who said?” Dorian asked. “We can just mind our own business this year.”

They all snorted at the same time at his words.

Like hell would they ever keep to themselves. They loved to meddle.

“I wanna learn a new spell,” Cas said.

“Which?” Dorian asked. “Which spell do you not know?”

“I want to know how to Aparate.”

“Don't ya need a license?” Matthias asked.

“I have immunity, remember? Why would I ever need permission from the Ministry?” Cas said. “I’ve been reading up on it. I have to be able to envision the place I want to aparate to.”

Zephyr was about to reply–her mouth was half open, forming the words when the world exploded around her.

The windows to her apartment blew out, spraying them with glass. Fire raced through her kitchen, but Cas, always fast and calm in any given situation, cried out, “Protego Totalum!”

A shield formed over them, the fire bouncing right off before fading.

The four of them were on their feet, their faces showing varying degrees of shock.

“What the hell?” Cas asked.

“My house,” Zephyr said sorrowfully as she surveyed the blackened remains of her living room. Her television had melted.

“That's a bit less relevant right now,” Dorian said. “Who did that?”

“It might just be some house on fire,” Matthias said, his eyes narrowed. “May not be magical.”

Another bolt of fire was hurled through her window, which was once again deflected by Cas’ shield.

“Who am I kidding,” Matthias sighed.

Cas ran to the window to cautiously peer out. Then, he ducked down, face pale.

“Guess who?” He said softly.

“Who?” Dorian asked.

“I said guess—”

Zephyr exclaimed, “—not the time!”

“Arnoux’s mother wants to wish us a happy new year, it seems,” Cas said with a grimace.

Matthias’ jaw went slack. “What? How the hell did they find me?”

“Perhaps a tracking spell, or like a thousand other ways,” Cas joined them in the middle of her living room.

“How do we get out?” Dorian asked her. “Are there any emergency exits?”

“No,” she said shakily. “But, my mom, she’ll be here soon.”

“She won't run into a burning building,” Cas assured her. “Muggle police will block it off soon.”

“We’ll have to fight our way out,” Matthias said  softly. “My mom won't give up.”

“This is why we need to learn to Aparate,” Cas said. “Okay, we have done this a dozen times. We act fast, we cast non-lethal spells, and we remember them.” 

It was funny how fast her life could turn upside down. They grabbed their brooms and wands, and were out of the door. As they sprinted down the stairs to the first floor, they were joined by a crowd of panicking residents.

“Where to?” Dorian asked.

“Diagon Alley,” Cas said. “Safer there.”

“Our school things are all in my house,” she said, halting.

Cas hooked an arm around her waist and dragged her along, “we can always buy them again. As long as we have our wands, it’ll be fine.”

“Casspian Blackthorn!”

They whirled around, wands brandished. A man in a black suit stood there, beckoning to them hurriedly. They exchanged looks before running over.

“I’m an Auror,” he said. “My name’s Milligan. I am tasked to take you to the Ministry.”

“Do you know how the Arnouxs’ found us?” Cas asked him, his face serious.

“No,” Milligan said. “But we have more serious matters to deal with now. I have to get you to safety.”

“How?” Matthias was shaking. “We can't go by without being spotted.”

“We will take a portkey.”

“A what?” Zephyr asked.

“It's like a teleportation device,” Cas explained hurriedly.

The man produced a brown bag. Then, he dumped the object on the floor. It was a toy boat–a plastic replica of the Titanic.

“That?” Dorian asked.

“Touch it whenever you're ready, but do it fast,” Milligan glanced behind him as the sound of sirens drew closer.

Cas grabbed her hand and then they reached for the toy.

They were sucked into the air. The world spun around them, like they were on a teacup ride in a fun fair.

It was not pleasant. Bike rose up her throat and she squeezed her eyes shut.

Thankfully, the journey was quick and she was spat out on the floor of the Ministry of Magic.

Cas landed beside her, green to the face. Her two other friends arrived soon, both nauseous as well.

“Nevermind,” Cas said, heaving. “I don't want to learn how to Aparate.”

Milligan brushed his shirt off. “Come along now. You have a hearing.”

“Why?” Cas helped her up.

“To discuss the best way to protect you.”

They exchanged glances and trailed behind the man. They were led through great wooden doors into a large auditorium, filled with wizards and witches. The chatter stopped as they entered. It was cold in there.

Zephyr subconsciously reached for Cas’ hand and they gripped each other as they reached the middle. Before them lay a panel of judges, all wearing those weird white wigs.

“Order!” Cried an African woman. “Order!”

Dorian pressed his lips together in a tight line like he was stopping himself from saying something. 

“Please confirm your identities for me.”

“Casspian Blackthorn,” Cas’ overconfident voice rang out.

There was a murmur that went through the crowd.

“Zephyr Sylvester-Lee.” she followed suit.

“Dorian Harlot.”

“Matthias Arnoux.”

Over the course of the year that Matthias had spent with them, he had grown harsher and more like Cas. Gone was his slight nervousness in situations like this. 

“And can you confirm that it is your mother and uncle that attacked you, Mister Arnoux?” The lady asked.

“Yes,” Matthias’ head was held high.

“Can you think of a reason why?”

Cas exchanged looks with her. They could definitely think of several reasons.

“No…?” Matthias trailed off awkwardly. “No logical reason.”

“Any illogical reasons?”

“Look,” Dorian cut in. “What do you want? I’m tired, hungry and frankly, pissed off that my friend’s house is wrecked.”

Cas snickered, looking proud of his friend. 

The lady was taken aback and gave the blond a dirty look. “I’ve called you here to discuss a way to keep you four safe. I’m sure you know that your lives are valuable to the Ministry for the many things you’ve done for us.”

“Oh,” Zephyr said dumbly.

“You will go to Hogsmeade to stay there until your school term starts,” the lady told them. “You will not be permitted to remain in the muggle world for the time being.”

“What?” She exclaimed. “But, my mom…?”

“We have made the necessary arrangements to keep her safe,” the woman told her. “Furthermore, I have one request to ask of you.”

She waved her wand. A picture of a young girl, around Zephyr’s age, was projected into the air. She was dark-skinned and pretty, with black coils of hair framing huge, dark, doll-like eyes. Her lips were pouty. 

“This is Nathalie Jones. She is from America. She will join your year at Hogwarts,” the woman said. “We will forgo her sorting and place her in Slytherin with you. Your task is to protect her.”

“Why?” Cas asked, sighing loudly. “Why us? Why can't you protect her? What are we protecting her from?”

“You four are undoubtedly the most skilled students in the school. Your professors cannot keep a close eye on her every second of the day, but a student can. Nathalie and her parents were rescued from a concentration camp run by Dark Wizards. She is here for safety. You will be protecting her until the American Ministry has taken down the leader.”

The woman’s shoulders heaved and she let out a deep breath. “Nathalie is the daughter of American Government officials and she is very, very powerful. No other student would be able to cope with her abilities.”

“And what do we get in return?” Dorian asked. “I mean, this isn't something we would do for free.”

“I will grant all of you unconditional use of magic,” she said. “I grant you immunity, just like I had granted Casspian long ago. However, fail this task and I will revoke all of it.”

“Should we?” Matthias asked in a whisper. “Can we handle this?”

“I’m fine with it,” Dorian said with a shrug. “We just need to watch her, not be friends with her.”

“We can do it,” Cas said quietly, then looked at Zephyr, “but only if Zephyr is okay with her. Her words are our deciding factor.”

She pursed her lips. They didn't have to be friends with her. Frankly, Zephyr liked the dynamics they had already. She was very protective of her friends–she had fought hard to make sure they got along well enough. Adding one more person to the group may disrupt the delicate friendship they had.

Besides, Matthias was only just settling in properly, and they just evened the previously odd-numbered group. Now, one of them would have to partner again, or have to be a trio.

That was assuming Nathalie would fit in. Zephyr had gotten very lucky by being friends with Cas first. He was always shut-off to anyone else. Hell, it took a year for Cas and Dorian to become buddies.

Some evil part of her wanted to keep her boys to herself. They were hers. Zephyr didn't want to share.

However, the excitement in their eyes was so bright that she sighed and said, “okay.”

To them, Nathalie was going to be another adventure. She wasn't a person in their minds. She was their newest project. Was that fair to Nathalie? No, it wasn't, but Zephyr could not disagree that her boys were Nathalie’s best shot at being safe.

“Good. She’ll be living in the same spot I’ll set you guys up at. Befriend her. She knows your task, but she is a nice girl and is willing to see beyond that.”

Just like that, the court was adjourned.

As they filed out, Cas said with a frown, “I don't get why they couldn't just…sit us around a table for this. Was a court meeting necessary?”

“I mean, they did grant us immunity,” Matthias said. “I’m sure they want everyone important to know.”

Dorian nodded, “but what do they mean by immunity? Surely we have some rules we are bound by?”

“Besides that we cannot use Unforgivable curses, we are technically free to do whatever we wish,” Cas said. “That's what they told me when I was ten.”

“Where’s the lodge?” Dorian asked Milligan.

“Diagon Alley. You’ve done this before, I believe?” The Aurour stepped into a fireplace and tossed a handful of Floo powder to the ground.

He disappeared in a roar of flames.

“Shall we?” Cas gave them a lopsided smile and he stepped forward.

Chapter 27: 3.1

The place they stayed at was cozy and small. It had a total of five rooms, one for each of them. The door to where Nathalie presumably stayed was shut.

“Should we…?” Matthias asked uncertainly as he lingered in the hallway.

“Why? Eager to make friends, Arnoux?” Cas grinned. “Or are you interested in her?”

“Please, don't,” Matthias said, sighing. “I’m just taking this seriously.”

“Maybe she’s resting,” Zephyr said. “She’ll approach us. C’mon, I’m tired.”

They headed off to their separate rooms. Naturally, Cas got the one beside Zephyr’s. It was a pretty spacious place. The room was built with sleek dark wooden boards. Several black-and-white muggle pictures were nailed into the walls–a horse drawing a carriage on a rainy day, a man on a horse, lighting striking the ocean, and so on. Heavy red curtains covered the window where there was a ledge to sit on and look out on the streets below.

The bed was large and covered with a surprisingly soft white quilt. The pillows, upon reading the labels, were made with duck feathers. Having no belongings (and no house, now), she headed straight for the shower.

Zephyr had her own private bathroom. The water was freezing but it was solved by a quick wave of her wand and a muttered, “Focillo.”

The harsh winter cold that had radiated through the floorboards was instantly cut back by the warming spell. She took her time to wash away the grime and spent several minutes just standing there numbly.

Truth be told, Zephyr wasn't okay. She hadn't been able to regain her cheerful self after what Gilroy Lockhart did to her in the previous year. 

He had taken special interest in her when he had taught Defence Against The Dark Arts. Then, he had sexually assaulted her.

It had gotten easier to admit to herself what had occurred. Those two words felt like a curse, a taboo to even think about. 

Zephyr really loved to shower. It made her feel clean again; untouched. She stepped out, shutting the water off and stared at herself in the mirror.

She couldn't stop the shudder as she recalled Lockhart’s hands traveling down her skin. Zephyr turned away and dressed in her old clothes.

She didn't have fresh ones, which sucked, but it was the best she could do, given her room was now a charred mess.

Zephyr flopped onto the bed and was out like a light.

---

When she awoke from a dreamless sleep, it was dark outside. She sat up, taking a few moments to blink at her hands, trying to figure out if everything that happened was just a nightmare or real.

Then, she rolled out of bed. She was hungry, she realised. Zephyr crept out onto the darkened landing. The doors were all shut, so it seemed her friends were sleeping well.

Down she went to the living room where she heard two people talking. One of them, she could have recognised in a room full of people; Casspian’s voice was surprisingly light and lacking his usual sarcasm.

The other one was a girl. She was giggling softly at his words.

Zephyr entered the room and the two teenagers looked up at her. Cas sat on the sofa in front of the girl they were to protect. Nathalie was on the opposite side. Between them was a chess set, and it looked like Nathalie was winning.

“Sorry,” Zephyr said awkwardly. “Am I intruding?”

“Never,” Cas said instantly, jumping up with a large grin. “I didn't want to disturb your rest. Nathalie, meet Zephyr Sylvester-Lee. Zeph’, you know Nathalie.”

“Hi,” Nathalie blinked up at her with her big doll eyes. “It's nice finally meeting you. Cas has been talking about you for the last hour.”

“Ah,” Zephyr said dumbly, her heart plummeting down. “Er, where’s the kitchen? I’m hungry.”

“I’ll make you something,” Cas said, examining her face. “C’mon.”

“But you’re in the middle of a game.”

“Am I?” Cas knocked his Queen down. “Looks like I lost. Besides, I’m hungry too.”

“But Cas, you just ate,” Nathalie gave him a confused look.

Cas planted a hand on her shoulder and steered her out of the room. The kitchen was small but had pretty much everything one would need–stove, microwave, dishwasher.

“What?” Zephyr asked Cas who began rummaging through the fridge.

“What, what?”

“Why did you leave suddenly?”

Cas pulled out a tray of eggs and set it on the counter, “because you're hungry.”

“So?”

“So,” he said as he placed a small pan on the stove. “I’m here to feed you.”

Zephyr groaned. “Not answering my question.”

“Fine,” Cas said. “I stopped the game because you are my priority, Zephyr. Not Nathalie, or Dorian or Matthias, but you. You are number one in my life.”

“But, our job!”

“Zeph’,” he said slowly. “Nothing is more important than you. Not even my immunity.”

The sizzle of the eggs on the pan filled the silence that followed. Her heart thudded in her chest as she stared into the grey eyes of her best friend.

“Okay,” she whispered.

Cas smiled. “Good.”

---

The next day, they set off to buy uniforms and books. Nathalie tagged along, chatting cheerfully with Dorian and Matthias.

She was settling in nicely, despite being the polar opposite of her boys’ personality. Dorian was even doubled-up laughing at one point.

Zephyr’s mood just plummeted deeper as the day went on.

She wasn't sure why she was so goddamn jealous of the girl, but Nathalie was everything she used to be. 

Nathalie was cheerful, kind and soft-spoken. She was shy and innocent.

Cas, who always knew her inside out, had stuck to her side throughout, not bothering to even look at Nathalie. Zephyr could never be more thankful for her friend.

They got their uniforms, which took longer than necessary because Cas was gloating how much he had grown.

When Zephyr met him for the first time, he already looked like a Year Three student. Now, he towered over them at an impressive hundred-and-seventy-four centimetres. Dorian had this growth spurt as well, now coming just five centimetres short of Cas. Matthias, who had always been a lanky fella, was breaching one-point-eight metres.

After they got their books, in which the shop keeper had nearly cried when they asked for four of the newest Monster Books, they went to grab some lunch.

They sat at the Leaky Caldron, munching on scones and sipping butterbeer. 

“I bet Divination is just gonna be a crap class,” Cas said harshly. “Like…omens of death? Please. I don't need to know any omens of death.”

“You are an omen of death, Casspian,” Dorian replied, yawning. 

“That’s a bit rude,” Nathalie frowned.

Matthias flashed her a grin, “we’re always like this to each other.”

It seemed like the ginger had taken a liking to the girl.

“So our shopping is done,” Zephyr cut in. “What's next?”

“Well,” Cas said, “I’m going somewhere. Care to join me, Zeph’?”

“Just you two?” Dorian asked, raising a brow. “Going on a date, Cas?”

The brunette’s face turned pink, “no. I’m just taking a walk with Zephyr.”

“Go on, then,” Mathias said. “I want to laze here for a while more.”

Cas finished his drink and got up. He extended a hand to her and she gracefully accepted it.

“We’ll be back for dinner.” Cas promised and they headed down the street.

“Where are we going?” Zephyr asked, still holding his hand.

Cas shrugged, kicking a rock out of his way. “Just somewhere. Not sure. We haven't had time together, just you and me. I miss the old days, ya know, when it was just us two. Sure, Dorian and Matthias are cool, but I feel like I’ve been neglecting you.”

Zephyr stared at him, an unknown feeling crossing her. She suddenly felt awfully warm. 

“So, we’re going into Honeydukes first,” Cas said as he tugged her into the shop.

The bell above the door chimed as they entered. The air was filled with the smell of chocolate and candies.

“I’m not a sweets person,” Cas said awkwardly, grabbing a basket. “Never indulged.”

Zephyr stared at him, “you take the whole food cart on the train back to school.”

He rolled his eyes, “Zeph’, the three of you eat all of it. I get one or two. Dorian has very fast hands.”

“Remember the time he snatched the chocolate frog from you?” Zephyr said, grinning, as they made their way into the shop.

Cas picked up a packet of gum that would change the consumer’s hair colour. “Yep. I think he broke a rib that day. He’s incredibly food motivated.”

“I think he’d betray us for good sushi,” she added a bottle of powdered candy that promised 'sparkling eyes’. She hoped it wasn't literal, but she had a feeling it would be.

“I wonder what will happen this year,” she said.

They passed by the chocolates, randomly chucking whatever caught their eyes into their basket.

Cas offered her a small smile, “maybe we’ll get peace for once. I’ll never admit this to anyone else, but I’m kind of…exhausted, you know? After saving so many people, it's kinda catching up to me that I took away all of your childhoods.”

“You didn't.”

“I did,” he said softly, his eyes sad. “If you all, especially you, Zeph’, didn't meet me, you’d have a normal school life. You wouldn't have been in danger so often. Sometimes, I wish I could go back in time and walk away from you, to save you from everything before it even began. Your mom would have been okay. You would have been safe.”

Zephyr grabbed his arm gently, tugging him around to face her. She squeezed his hand and looked up at her best friend, the one she would give up the world for.

“I’m not sure if you believe in fate, Cas, but we never met by coincidence,” Zephyr began, her throat seizing with an implacable emotion. “I was always meant to be by your side. We were all born to meet in every lifetime. So, don't you dare say that. You saved me from more than you know. I have found my place on this planet–and that is next to you.”

Cas’ eyes were glassy and so were hers, but she pushed on. “I will never regret choosing you from day one. No matter where you go, or what decision you make, I’ll be there to follow you.”

They were in a darkened corner at the back of the bustling store. However, Zephyr didn't notice the crowd of customers behind her. Cas was the only one that mattered to her.

Casspian let out a weak laugh and pressed his lips to her forehead, his entire body shaking as he leaned into her.

“Zephyr,” he whispered. He had never sounded so vulnerable before. “You have no idea what I’d do for you. You have no clue how much you mean to me. I will never be able to show the extent of my love for you.”

“I’m going to sob,” she said with a giggle, sniffling.

Cas pulled away, wiping his eyes. “I’m already crying. C’mon, let's pay for this haul and try to hide it from Dorian.”

Chapter 28: 3.2

Nathalie stood in front of the wall that led to the Hogwarts express in Kings Cross station. 

“We can…run through it?” She asked skeptically.

“Normally, I’d walk, but it’s up to you. The speed makes no difference,” Dorian said with a one-shouldered shrug and disappeared through the barrier.

Soon enough, they secured a cabin on the train. Many students had stared at the newest edition to their group. Zephyr knew what they were all thinking–was there another Bloodtraitor?

Cas sat next to the window so he could lean on the walls to doze off. Zephyr filled the spot beside him. The other three sat across from them.

Nathalie had already been assigned to Slytherin, though she had been sorted into Hufflepuff. She wore the Green house robes awkwardly, looking completely out of place.

The rest of them were in their uniforms as well, in varying stages of how neat they were. Cas only had his slacks and shirt on, his robes and tie still in his bag. Dorian was dressed similarly to Cas, but had his tie secured neatly already. Matthias and Zephyr were both in full attire because they were freezing.

“Is there, like, anyone to stay away from?” Nathalie asked them, fiddling with her manicure.

Cas snorted, making Zephyr jump. She thought he was asleep.

“We are the ones you should avoid,” Cas drawled. “We’re the scum of the school. We are Bloodtraitors, evil, soulless bastards…according to everyone.”

“And what do you think of yourselves?” She said and blinked innocently.

“I think we’re just unlucky,” Dorian said. “And always in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Personally, I think we’re always at the right place at the right time,” Matthias said. “I mean, who else could have dealt with what we did?”

“Harry could,” Cas said.

“Harry? Like the Harry Potter?” Nathalie's eyes went wide. “You know him?”

“Yeah,” Zephyr said. “We’re friends.”

“Oh, that’s so cool! Wow, there are so many celebrities here at Hogwarts. My school wasn't as interesting.”

“God,” Matthias said suddenly. “It’s a bit chilly here.”

“It’s pouring outside,” Dorian deadpanned. “Of course it’s cold.”

“But, like, it’s colder than usual,” the ginger complained.

“I’m hungry,” Dorian said and began to unearth the sweets in his bag; the ones Cas and her had gotten. “I wish they sold proper food here.”

“I think the point of the snacks is to save room for the feast later,” Zephyr said.

Dorian threw a box of hard sour candy at Cas’ head. The brunette grabbed it out of the air easily, maintaining his bored expression. 

They began to dig into their goodies. Nathalie indulged in some as well, despite her protests at first.

The trolly witch went by them, offering some pound cake but they denied it, although Dorian’s gaze was fixed on the mountain of food on the trolly that rolled past.

Soon enough, the sky grew dark and they could see their reflection in the windows.

“What spells do they teach in America?” Matthias asked Nathalie.

Cas looked up from his book, interested to hear as well. Zephyr pulled her robe around her tighter. The rain made it incredibly cold in the carriage.

“Well,” Nathalie began. “I think they're like, a year behind your syllabus. Not sure, though. I was stuck at the camp for too long to remember much of my life before then.”

The air crackled with awkwardness. Cas shifted in his seat and frowned as he peered out of the window. “Is the train slowing down?”

“It seems to be,” Matthias agreed. “God, time went by quickly.”

“No,” Dorian said slowly. “We can't be here yet. And you're right, Matthias. It is cold.”

The train was getting slower and slower. As the noise of the pistons fell away, the wind and rain sounded louder than ever against the windows.

Cas leapt up and squeezed his way to look out into the corridor. He came back in, worry colouring his face.

“This isn't normal,” Cas said and slipped out his wand.

“Can a magical train malfunction?” Nathalie asked, looking pale.

“No,” Cas said.

The rest of them reached for their wands as well

The train came to a stop with a jolt, and distant thuds and bangs told them that luggage had fallen out of the racks. Then, without warning, all the lamps went out and they were plunged into total darkness.

“Lumos,” Cas said, his spell lighting up the compartment. 

“Should we go out and explore?” Dorian asked, his eyes gleaming.

“Why not? Matthias, stay here with Nathalie,” Cas said.

“Why me?” Matthias exclaimed. “I want to go out too.”

“Well, we can't let Nathalie go. It’ll defeat the whole purpose of protecting her,” Cas said matter-of-factly.

“I’m going out there,” Dorian said as Cas’ gaze turned to him.

“I’ll stay,” Zephyr volunteered. “You three go.”

Cas blinked at her. “You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, then,” Casspian shrugged. “C’mon, boys.”

They left the carriage and the two of them were in the darkness.

“Why’d you stay?” Nathalie asked. Her voice was shaky.

“Because the boys wouldn't not go investigate. Besides, I’m not that concerned about what's out there. It’s probably nothing.” Zephyr said, sitting back down. She casted Lumos, not really eager to bask in the gloom.

The window had fogged up from the inside. She yawned, stretching out.

The door slid slowly open. Her boys were back already? She glanced up and froze. Nathalie made a small whimpering noise.

Standing in the doorway, illuminated by her wand, was a cloaked figure that towered to the ceiling. Its face was completely hidden beneath its hood. 

There was a hand protruding from the cloak and it was glistening, grayish, slimy-looking, and scabbed, like something dead that had decayed in water. 

Zephyr couldn't physically move. It was as if the creature had frozen her to her seat. 

The thing beneath the hood, whatever it was, drew a long, slow, rattling breath, as though it were trying to suck something more than air from its surroundings. An intense cold swept over her.

Hopelessness sank deep into her bones. It was like being trapped by Lockhart again. She felt the same way when her father hit her, or when the kids in her muggle school bullied her.

She wanted to curl up and perish.

Her heart pounded painfully in her chest. It felt like she was having a cardiac arrest. Could the cold stop her heart?

Zephyr knew what it was, though. There was no denying that a Dementor stood before her. Cas told her about them before. She couldn't remember exactly what he had said. 

Her vision tunneled as her best friend’s name rang through her head. Suddenly she could fight through the daze. 

Cas, Cas, Cas, she thought desperately. She could hear someone screaming. She could move, although sluggishly, like her body was sinking in oil. Slowly, so painfully slow, she grabbed Cas’ book.

Zephyr threw it. It sailed across the cabin and hit the creature in the head. It hissed and her vision went black.

---

When she came to, Cas was below her, her head propped on his lap. His fingers were running affectionately through her hair. 

Zephyr blinked at him and then shot up. “Where did it go?”

“Well, the Dementor left,” Cas said with an amused grin. “After you attacked it with my book, it left. You passed out but it’s gone. Have some chocolate. Professor Lupin gave us some after we dealt with one as well.”

Nathalie seemed to have been crying. She was huddled in on herself, not talking to anyone.

“Dealt with it?” Dorian snorted. He was munching on his own bar. “We jumped it, like some sort of mob gang bullshit. You should have seen it. Cas tackled it from behind–it was attacking Harry. Lupin was so surprised when Cas flew out of nowhere and knocked the Dementor to the ground. We pinned it to the floor like we were cops taking down some criminal. It was hilarious.”

“Thank God for the immunity we were given,” Matthias said, laughing. “We just attacked a guard from Azkaban. We would have been dead so quickly if we weren't granted it.”

“I punched it in its ugly face,” Dorian chuckled. “God. What a start to the school term.”

“But, weren't you…affected by it?” Zephyr asked and accepted the chocolate. It warmed her back up and made her hands stop shaking.

“Nope,” Cas said with a shrug. “Dunno why. How are you feeling?”

“Okay, now,” Zephyr gave him a grateful smile.

“Ha!” Dorian couldn't seem to stop laughing. “Imagine the stories tomorrow about us.”

“Well, we’ll find out soon enough. We’re almost at Hogwarts.”

They left the train soon. Cas excitedly pointed out the spot he had assaulted the creature at as they walked by. 

The platform was wet and slippery, rain driving down in icy torrents. Dorian slipped and banged his knee, much to the rest of their amusement. 

Nathalie was still pale but she was talking again.

They followed the rest of the school along the platform and out onto a rough mud track, where at least a hundred stagecoaches awaited the remaining students, each pulled by skeletal horse. It neighed as they approached and Cas patted it on the side before grimacing.

“Gross,” he muttered softly to her as he helped her into the seat.

The coach smelled faintly of mold and straw. As the carriage trundled toward a pair of magnificent wrought iron gates, flanked with stone columns topped with winged boars, Zephyr saw two more towering, hooded dementors, standing guard on either side.

“They're probably here to guard the school from that Sirius Black guy,” Matthias leaned out of the window to peer.

“Someone grab Cas before he tosses himself at them again,” Dorian was still very much delighted by what had happened.

The carriage picked up speed on the long, sloping drive up to the castle. Soon, they jerked to a stop and they jumped from their coach, grinning madly up at Hogwarts.

Nathalie’s eyes were wide. “It’s beautiful.”

“It is, isn't it,” Dorian said joyfully. “Welcome to Hogwarts!”

They headed to the Grand Hall and settled down into their usual space. Like always, no one sat with them. Through the sorting, the first year Slytherins were beckoned away from their table and soon enough, they knew who they were.

“Everyone is staring at us,” Nathalie whispered.

“You’ll get used to it,” Cas promised. “We’re ancient artifacts to them–surreal and untouchable.”

“Welcome!” said Dumbledore, the candlelight shimmering on his beard. “Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast.”

Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued, “As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business.”

“No wonder we didn't get in trouble for attacking them,” Cas said quietly. “They probably knew about our immunity.”

“Yeah,” Matthias nodded. “Our assumption was right.”

“Can you imagine if we weren't?” Dorian chuckled. “We’d be in Azkaban right now.”

“They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds,” Dumbledore continued, “and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises — or even Invisibility Cloaks or any clever spell.”

Cas and Dorian began to grin at his words. Zephyr sighed.

“It is not in the nature of a dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the dementors,” he said.

“Who’s the new Head Boy?” Cas asked, looking around.

“Percy Weasley, I think,” Zephyr said. “Ron wrote to me saying how much he was gloating over it during the holidays.”

“Ron wrote to you?” Cas blinked. “When?”

“Couple weeks back,” she said with a shrug.

Dumbledore paused again; he looked very seriously around the hall, and nobody moved or made a sound.

“On a happier note,” he continued, “I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year. “First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.”

The three boys cheered loudly, causing many people to stare. It was an unusual explosion of enthusiasm from them.

“He was actually good,” Cas told her, eyes bright. “He’s a competent teacher. He did the Patronus charm and chased the Dementor away. I need to ask him how to do it.”

“So you can, what, attack Dementors left and right for giggles?” Dorian asked dryly. 

Cas shrugged. “Could come in handy.”

“As to our second new appointment,” Dumbledore continued as the lukewarm applause for Professor Lupin died away. “Well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties.”

“No wonder we have a book that can bite,” Matthias said. “Makes sense now.”

“The book for the class can bite?” Cas exclaimed. Then, even louder, “you started reading it already?”

Zephyr elbowed her friend to shush him, amused by how the surprise of not being the most ahead of their group was more overwhelming than the fact the boom could attack them.

“Nah, I couldn't keep it from gnawing at my fingers so I gave up,” Matthias said and eyed the empty goblet before him wistfully. “Can we just eat? I’m thirsty.”

“Well, I think that’s everything of importance,” said Dumbledore. “Let the feast begin!” 

The golden plates and goblets before them filled suddenly with food and drink. The hall echoed with talk, laughter, and the clatter of knives and forks.

“Wow,” Nathalie surveyed the array with awe. “That's actually a nice spread.”

“Ain't it?” Matthias reached for the Rotisserie chicken.

Dorian grabbed the plate at the same time and the two boys locked eyes, daring each other to snatch it. What ensued next was a vicious tug of war that resulted in the whole chicken flying through the air.

It arched across the table and they watched in horror as it landed right smack on Billy ‘Hills’ Harlot’s plate. A wave of pumpkin soup rose up from the force of the abrupt appearance of the meat, and sprayed right across his face.

Dorian’s jaw was agape as he stared at his older brother. His face displayed an odd combination of shock, penitent and glee. Matthias ducked his flaming red face down, shoulders shaking from his laughter.

Nathalie gasped, hand flying to cover her mouth.

Cas, also chortling, raised a hand and yelled, “you can keep it! Enjoy!”

“Oh, my god,” Zephyr’s face fell into her elbow. She wanted to sink down and disappear. “You guys are so embarrassing.”

Hills wiped his face and slowly looked away from them, jaw muscle twitching. 

“He is going to get us back,” Matthias said, still blushing. “I know it.”

“I think we deserve it this time,” Cas agreed.

“Who…do you know who that was?” Nathalie asked, astonished by their reactions.

“He's my older brother by a year,” Dorian explained quickly. “We’re not on talking terms.”

“I see,” Nathalie said awkwardly. She reached for the pumpkin pie.

“You like pie?” Cas asked, surprised.

“I love pie,” the girl replied eagerly. It was the first time Cas had looked at her since the day they met. “My favourite is key lime.”

Cas nodded approvingly. “Not bad.”

Zephyr barely held back a sigh. 

The rest of dinner was filled with random small talk, mostly about food, before they made their way back to their dorms. Nathalie was given the bed beside Zephyr.

“You and Cas seem very close,” Nathalie said as she began to unfold her clothes.

Zephyr blinked. She was lying down, staring at the ceiling blankly, not a single thought in her head. “Sorry?”

“You and Cas. You two have a special bond.”

“I suppose so. He was the first person I befriended at Hogwarts,” Zephyr said.

“Are you two dating?”

“No!” She cried out, shooting up. “No, definitely not. We’re just friends.”

The words left a strange bad taste in her mouth. They were just friends.

“Oh! So he’s single?” Nathalie said, blushing. “Do you have a crush on him?”

“What?” Zephyr gaped at her. “N-no!”

Her face felt hot as realisation dawned on her.

“You like him?” Zephyr fought down a wave of anger that quickly faded into confusion. Why was she so pissed off?

“I mean, anyone who’s into boys would. He’s handsome, tall, protective and incredibly smart. His coldness and disinterest is very attractive. Like, the way he is mean to everyone is kind of hot. I mean, who doesn't like a bad boy?” Nathalie stated, smiling softly. “Don't tell him I said any of that.”

“He’s not a bad boy.” Zephyr said softly.

Nathalie’s description of Cas was completely wrong. Cas was so incredibly kind, generous and caring. He put his friends above himself. Cas treated her with the utmost respect, like she was born from royalty. He wasn't rude to her.

“He is,” Nathalie giggled. “And he’s not bad looking either. He’s very pretty.”

“Pretty,” Zephyr repeated dumbly.

“You should stay away from Casspian, new girl,” one of her roommates, Matilda, called. “Everyone knows that he belongs to Zephyr.”

“He doesn't belong to me–don't treat him like a toy,” Zephyr groaned. “And mind your own business.”

“I was on your side!” 

“Matilda!”

“Fine.”

“Does he like you?” Nathalie asked her, looking thoughtful.

“I don't think so…?”

“So he’s like, available. I can pursue him,” she grinned victoriously.

Zephyr stared at her, her mouth forming some sort of odd shape even she couldn't describe. “I guess?”

She decided that–fuck it, she was too lazy to put away her clothes, and turned into bed. 

Chapter 29: 3.3

Summary:

hi.

i kind of forgot i even published this in the first place LOL...im quite busy with work and figuring out what to do for my future (being a school dropout) (but in my defence, school was a bit too...easy for me??? I wasn't learning anything that i didnt know already)

anywaysssss– extra long chapter!!! enjoy. i hate nathalie. i had a biggg plan for her but the book took a different route.

no harm saying what my plan was for her soo

i needed (past tense) to get rid of matthias before the next book so my plan was to get matthias to fall so deeply in love with nathalie that he abandons the Bloodtraitors. i had a huge scene planned out and everything—then i discarded it.

dont worry the Bloodtraitors stay together. anyways let's get on with the show!!!

“We have the stupid Divination class today,” Cas said with a groan. “I flipped through the textbook already and it’s a load of bullshit.”

“I think it’s interesting,” Nathalie piped up. “It sounds fun to do even if it’s not accurate.”

Zephyr shrugged, “in a way, I’m also looking forward to it. I’m on board with you, Cas, but it’s fun to analyse the way someone thinks by how they perceive their tea leaves, for example. I think it’s more of a psychology class than anything.”

“I never thought about it that way,” Cas raised his brows at her, seemingly impressed.

“Like, I believe that the way you think does impact your future. If you see, say, death or some sort of negative outcome in this class, you’ll end up in a situation similar to what you ‘predicted’, solely based on how you react. You’ll go around preparing for the worst and land yourself in it anyways. The opposite also applies,” Zephyr said, scratching her arm.

“Wow,” Dorian said through a yawn. “It's way too early for this. Sorry, Zeph’, no offense, but my brain is simply not working yet. Hey, are you eating that scone?”

Zephyr passed the untouched basket of bread in front of her to the blond boy. He grinned as he seized a couple pieces of assorted bread and began spreading a generous amount of butter on it.

Matthias poured himself a glass of orange juice and added, “but negativity doesn't always impact the outcome. Like, someone who looks at the bright side can end up in horrible situations simply because they’re too sure that they’ll come out okay, compared to someone who is more cautious.”

“Urgh, not you too,” Dorian groaned through a mouthful of food.

“Chew with your mouth shut, Harlot,” Cas wiped the crumbs from his hands. “But both of you have excellent points.”

There was a roar of laughter from down their table. Cas stretched his neck to check it out and scowled. “Malfoy.”

“What’s wrong?” Nathalie asked, also peering.

“Harry passed out when he saw the Dementor and our entire house has been mocking him for the entire day,” Matthias explained with a roll of his eyes.

“Oh Lord, I just want to give that blond rat a nice punch across the face,” Cas grumbled. “I bet he’d wet his pants if he was in the same situation, that arrogant ass.”

“I’ll do it,” Dorian said cheerfully. “The fruits are down his way too. I want a piece of watermelon.”

“Grab me an apple, will you?” Zephyr called as Dorian got up.

“Sure,” her friend grinned as he headed down the row.

“You’re only eating an apple?” Cas asked her, his eyes fixed on Draco.

“Yeah. Ate a lot last night,” she said.

“Okay…woah!” Cas shot to his feet as Dorian knocked Draco across the head with his elbow while taking the plate of red fruit.

Draco clambered to his feet, whirling around, fists clenched, and then saw who was standing behind him. Dorian had his overconfident, rich-kid smirk on his sharp face, his expression ravenous for Draco to strike back. 

The two blonds stared at each other for a couple of seconds, both unmoving, then Draco sat back down, body trembling with barely controlled rage.

Dorian came back to them, tossing Zephyr her apple. “That was fun.”

Zephyr fumbled for the apple and it slipped from her hands, falling to the floor. Cas, in one fluid motion, gracefully swooped down to snatch the fruit before it hit the ground and passed it back to her. She muttered a quick thanks and he smiled at her, corners of his eyes crinkling.

Matthias set down his cup a bit too roughly, snapping them out of their little moment. “What’d you say?”

“I didn't say anything. Now that I think about it, it looks like I decided to attack him for fun,” Dorian said with a frown, then he shrugged, as if dismissing his remorse.

“But…” Nathalie trailed off. “It was mean..?”

“Malfoy is a brat and not likeable. He deserves it,” Dorian said and began choosing his piece of watermelon carefully.

He found one slice that he deemed satisfactory and began picking the seeds out.

“You know you can eat the seeds, right? It won't grow in your stomach,” Matthias said, giving the boy a strange look.

“What do you think I am, stupid?” Dorian scoffed, laser-focused. “Of course I know that. Just chewing the seeds makes the melon less satisfying to eat. I rather have a clean mouthful than having random hard bits inside.”

“C’mon,” Zephyr tapped Dorian’s arm. “Everyone’s leaving for their first class.”

Dorian polished off his food and stood. Together, they headed off.

The journey through the castle to North Tower was a long one. They climbed their seventh long staircase and emerged on an unfamiliar landing, where there was nothing but a large painting of a bare stretch of grass hanging on the stone likeable

“I feel like we’re lost,” Dorian said brightly as they peered down a hallway.

“I’m sure we’ll find the class eventually,” Zephyr said.

“Pick a direction,” Cas said with a shrug.

Matthias sighed and then pointed to the left. They went down the extraordinarily long hallway.

Soon, they reached a tightly spiraling stairway.

Exchanging unsure looks, they began their ascent. At last they heard the murmur of voices above them and knew they had reached the classroom.

“You have a great sense of direction,” Nathalie praised Matthias who turned pink.

They climbed the last few steps and emerged onto a tiny landing, where most of the class was already assembled. There were no doors off this landing but where there was a circular trapdoor with a brass plaque on it.

‘Sybill Trelawney, Divination teacher.’

Cas reached up and tapped the opening. A trapdoor popped open, making them all jump. A silver ladder shot to the ground, narrowly avoiding Cas’ head.

“Well,” he said, blinking. “Okay, then. After you, Zeph’.”

She entered the room first.

It didn’t look like a classroom at all, more like a cross between someone’s attic and an old-fashioned tea shop. At least twenty small, circular tables were crammed inside it, all surrounded by chintz armchairs and fat little poufs. 

Everything was lit with a dim, crimson light; the curtains at the windows were all closed, and the many lamps were draped with dark red scarves. It was stiflingly warm, and the fire that was burning under the crowded mantelpiece was giving off a heavy, sickly sort of perfume as it heated a large copper kettle. Dorian sneezed as he clambered after her.

The shelves running around the circular walls were crammed with dusty-looking feathers, stubs of candles, many packs of tattered playing cards, countless silvery crystal balls, and a huge array of teacups.

“This is Cas’ heaven,” she muttered with dread. “So many things to break.”

“Break?” Cas asked excitedly, popping his head up from the hole in the floor. “What can I break?”

“No!” Zephyr and Dorian exclaimed in unison.

Cas pouted and hoisted himself up. Dusting his hands off, he glanced around, surveying the room as well.

“Where is she?” Cas asked, frowning as he pulled Matthias up.

A voice came suddenly out of the shadows, a soft, misty sort of voice.

“Welcome,” it said. “How nice to see you in the physical world at last.” 

The five of them flinched again. Nathalie nearly slipped back down but Matthias was there to save her and grabbed her arm before she could fall.

Professor Trelawney moved into the firelight, and they saw that she was very thin; her large glasses magnified her eyes to several times their natural size, and she was draped in a gauzy spangled shawl. Innumerable chains and beads hung around her spindly neck, and her arms and hands were encrusted with bangles and rings.

“Oh, wow,” Cas said, not bothering to filter his surprise.

“Sit, my children, sit,” she said, and they all climbed awkwardly into armchairs or sank onto poufs.

"I have no parents," Cas muttered to her. "I am not her child."

"It was a phrase to greet us as a collective," she told him.

They crowded around one small table. Zephyr was pretty much leaning on Cas.

“Welcome to Divination,” said Professor Trelawney, who had seated herself in a winged armchair in front of the fire. “My name is Professor Trelawney. You may not have seen me before. I find that descending too often into the hustle and bustle of the main school clouds my Inner Eye.”

Nobody said anything about this extraordinary pronouncement.

Professor Trelawney delicately rearranged her shawl and continued, “So you have chosen to study Divination, the most difficult of all magical arts. I must warn you at the outset that if you do not have the Sight, there is very little I will be able to teach you. Books can take you only so far in this field.”

Cas looked like he wanted to just get up and leave. He was gaping at Dorian, who had a disgusted expression on his face. Matthias, ever polite, had fixed his eyebrows into a neutral line.

“Many witches and wizards, talented though they are in the area of loud bangs and smells and sudden disappearings, are yet unable to penetrate the veiled mysteries of the future,” Professor Trelawney went on, her enormous, gleaming eyes moving from face to nervous face. “It is a Gift granted to few. You, boy,” she said suddenly to Neville, who almost toppled off his pouf. “Is your grandmother well?”

“I think so,” said Neville tremulously.

“I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you, dear,” said Professor Trelawney, the firelight glinting on her long emerald earrings.

Neville gulped. 

Professor Trelawney continued placidly. “We will be covering the basic methods of Divination this year. The first term will be devoted to reading the tea leaves. Next term we shall progress to palmistry. By the way, my dear,” she shot suddenly at Parvati Patil, “beware a red-haired man.”

Parvati gave a startled look at Matthias, who was right behind her, and edged her chair away from him.

“Hey,” Matthias protested.

“In the second term,” Professor Trelawney went on, “we shall progress to the crystal ball — if we have finished with fire omens, that is. Unfortunately, classes will be disrupted in February by a nasty bout of flu. I myself will lose my voice. And around Easter, one of our numbers will leave us forever. How is your younger sister?”

The Professor fixed her eyes on Nathalie, who blinked, “she’s okay?”

“You have a sister?” Cas asked.

“She’s a couple months old only,” Nathalie replied, shrugging. “No one knows I even have a sister!”

“I wonder, dear,” she said to Lavender Brown, who was nearest and shrank back in her chair, “if you could pass me the largest silver teapot?”

Lavender, looking relieved, stood up, took an enormous teapot from the shelf, and put it down on the table in front of Professor Trelawney.

“Thank you, my dear. Incidentally, that thing you are dreading — it will happen on Friday the sixteenth of October.”

Lavender trembled.

“Now, I want you all to divide into pairs. Collect a teacup from the shelf, come to me, and I will fill it. Then sit down and drink, drink until only the dregs remain. Swill these around the cup three times with the left hand, then turn the cup upside down on its saucer, wait for the last of the tea to drain away, then give your cup to your partner to read. You will interpret the patterns using pages five and six of Unfogging the Future. I shall move among you, helping and instructing. Oh, and dear.”

She caught Neville by the arm as he made to stand up, “after you’ve broken your first cup, would you be so kind as to select one of the blue-patterned ones? I’m rather attached to the pink.”

Sure enough, Neville had no sooner reached the shelf of teacups when there was a tinkle of breaking china.

Professor Trelawney swept over to him holding a dustpan and brush and said, “One of the blue ones, then, dear, if you wouldn’t mind…thank you.”

Cas and her naturally partnered up. There wasn't even a debate, they just stood up and went over to the cups.

Dorian and Matthias exchanged glances and quickly rock-paper-scissors to decide who was going to find another person.

Dorian lost and slinked away to gran Hermione who wasn't all that thrilled that their second rudest member was her pair.

Zephyr took a pink flowery one and Cas seized the blue one. They headed over to the teacher.

“Casspian Blackthorn and Zephyr Sylvester,” she said as she poured the water into their cups. “You two have a very long future together. One day, you will find happiness, but first, you must endure hardship.”

“I think we’ve gone through enough,” Cas said with a roll of his eyes.

“Long future?” Zephyr asked, genuinely curious. She didn't believe this woman could actually see what would happen, but her words stunned her.

“You will spend eternity together. Fate has decided that long ago,” the woman smiled and shooed them away.

“What do you think she means?” Zephyr asked Cas as he carried both of their cups back to their table.

“Well,” he carefully set them down, shaking his hands to cool his fingers. “I’ll never stop being friends with you so it makes sense.”

Zephyr nodded. Yeah, he was right. They were practically inseparable already. She was never going to leave his side, for better or for worse.

They drank their piping hot teas, complaining about the lack of sugar and milk between each sip. Glancing over at Matthias, she saw that him and Nathalie were having a whale of a time, giggling away.

Dorian was yawning, his cup pushed to the corner as he waited for it to cool down. Hermione was already flipping through her book.

Once they drained their cups, they swirled it the way Trelawney told them to, and peered in.

“Do you see anything?” Zephyr asked her friend, squinting.

“Brown stuff,” he said, frowning as he referred back to the book.

“I thought you memorised the syllabus?”

She received an incredulous look from him, “of course I did, just not for this class.”

“Broaden your minds, my dears, and allow your eyes to see past the mundane!” Professor Trelawney cried through the gloom.

“Erm, I think it's, like, a hat,” Zephyr said with a sigh.

“A lot of gold will come to me,” Cas said and made a face. “Yay. You apparently have love this year.”

“Hurrah,” she said sarcastically.

“This is dumb,” he set the cup down. “Fat load of rubbish this is. Oh, hey, Harry seemed to have captured her attention.”

Professor Trelawney was staring into the teacup, rotating it counterclockwise.

“The falcon…my dear, you have a deadly enemy.”

“But everyone knows that,” said Hermione in a loud whisper.

Professor Trelawney stared at her.

“Well, they do,” Hermione continued, oblivious to the mounting tension in the room. “Everybody knows about Harry and You-Know-Who.”

Professor Trelawney chose not to reply. She lowered her huge eyes to Harry’s cup again and continued to turn it.

“The club…an attack. Dear, dear, this is not a happy cup…”

“I thought that was a bowler hat,” said Ron sheepishly.

“The skull–danger in your path, my dear.” 

Everyone was staring, transfixed, at Professor Trelawney, who gave the cup a final turn, gasped, and then screamed.

Neville dropped his cup, the fine china shattering on the ground. He winced, shooting an apologetic look towards their Professor.

Trelawney sank into a vacant armchair, her glittering hand at her heart and her eyes closed. “My dear boy. My poor, dear boy. No, it is kinder not to say…no, don’t ask me.”

“What is it, Professor?” said Dean Thomas at once. 

Everyone had got to their feet, and slowly they crowded around Harry and Ron’s table, pressing close to Professor Trelawney’s chair to get a good look at Harry’s cup.

Cas yawned and leaned back. “What d’ya get, Harlot?”

Dorian scoffed from beside them. “Lots of danger incoming, apparently.”

“We don't need a teacup to predict that,” Matthias snorted as he joined them.

“I got love!” Nathalie beamed.

“That's nice,” Dorian said and elbowed Matthias who turned red once again.

“My dear,” Professor Trelawney’s huge eyes opened dramatically, “you have the Grim.”

“The what?” Asked Harry.

“The Grim, my dear, the Grim!” cried Professor Trelawney, who looked shocked that Harry hadn’t understood. “The giant, spectral dog that haunts churchyards! My dear boy, it is an omen, the worst omen—of death!”

Everyone was looking at Harry, everyone except Hermione, who had gotten up and moved around to the back of Professor Trelawney’s chair.

“I don’t think it looks like a Grim,” she said flatly.

Professor Trelawney surveyed Hermione with mounting dislike.

“You’ll forgive me for saying so, my dear, but I perceive very little aura around you. Very little receptivity to the resonances of the future.” 

Seamus Finnigan was tilting his head from side to side.“It looks like a Grim if you do this,” he said, with his eyes almost shut, “but it looks more like a donkey from here,” he said, leaning to the left.

“When you’ve all finished deciding whether I’m going to die or not!” Harry exclaimed, eyes flashing.

“I think we will leave the lesson here for today,” said Professor Trelawney in her mistiest voice. “Yes, please pack away your things.”

Cas yawned loudly, “you’d love to see mine.”

The woman got up and drifted over to the five of them.

She peered into his cup and gasped, “nothing.”

“What? I have no future?” Cas asked, sitting up from his bean bag.

"You'll trip down the stairs and die," Dorian said with a grin, "fits your personality."

Cas frowned, "excuse me?"

“The fates will not let us know," Professor Trelawney said, cutting in.

“Great,” Cas said dryly.

“And you, my dear,” Professor Trelawney looked into her cup. “Will be faced with a great betrayal.”

“Even better,” Cas muttered. “I’m done, let's go.”

They stood and her other friends took it as a cue to leave as well. 

“What a load of bullshit,” Dorian said, laughing. “All of it was just plain stupid.”

Cas dropped his books down the hatch with a mighty crash and followed them down. Zephyr sat on the edge, peering down. 

“Cas, help me with mine…” she called and waved her books at him. He jumped up and grabbed them from her.

Zephyr began going down and Cas caught her by the waist to set her to the ground. He grinned at her, his hands lingering.

Her face felt hot and she cleared her throat, pulling away. Her body seemed to resist for a moment, her heart racing, but she managed to get her books back.

“No, let me,” Cas said quickly and took her stuff from her.

“Are you done, love birds?” Dorian asked flatly.

“Shut up,” Cas called back.

Eventually, they ended up at their next class, Transfiguration with McGonagall, and made a scramble for the back row.

Most of the lesson was silent throughout, but Cas was listening (although he was pretending to be bored). He was incredibly intrigued by Animagus, which were wizards that could turn into animals.

“I wonder what I’d be,” Cas whispered to her.

“A cockroach,” Dorian replied.

“Oh, fuck off Harlot,” Cas said with a groan. “For real, though.”

“Surely you’d have known by now if you were one,” Zephyr said through her yawn.

“She does have a point,” Matthias said.

“Urgh,” Cas deflated like a balloon. “Whatever.”

“Really, what has got into you all today?” said Professor McGonagall, turning back into herself with a faint pop, and staring around at them all. “Not that it matters, but that’s the first time my transformation’s not got applause from a class.” 

Everybody’s heads turned toward Harry again, but nobody spoke. Then Hermione raised her hand.

“Please, Professor, we’ve just had our first Divination class, and we were reading the tea leaves, and —”

“Ah, of course,” said Professor McGonagall, suddenly frowning. “There is no need to say any more, Miss Granger. Tell me, which of you will be dying this year?”

A pin-drop silence ensued, everyone turning to stare at Harry.

"Me,” said Harry, finally.

"I see,” said Professor McGonagall, fixing Harry with her beady eyes. “Then you should know, Potter, that Sybill Trelawney has predicted the death of one student a year since she arrived at this school. None of them has died yet. Seeing death omens is her favorite way of greeting a new class. If it were not for the fact that I never speak ill of my colleagues —”

Professor McGonagall broke off, and they saw that her nostrils had gone wide.

She went on, more calmly, “Divination is one of the most imprecise branches of magic. I shall not conceal from you that I have very little patience with it. True Seers are very rare, and Professor Trelawney—”

She stopped again, and then said, in a very matter-of-fact tone, “You look in excellent health to me, Potter, so you will excuse me if I don’t let you off homework today. I assure you that if you die, you need not hand it in.”

Cas snickered.

When the Transfiguration class had finished, they joined the crowd thundering toward the Great Hall.

The food was decent but not anything spectacular. Nathalie, for some reason, was being extremely friendly towards Zephyr.

She had been going on and on, blabbering about god-knows what (Zephyr had stopped listening a while back) and was generally trying to be nice.

It was strange, especially after how Nathalie had said she wanted Cas to be hers.

“So,” Zephyr cut in. “Any updates on your mom?”

“Mine?” Matthias asked.

“Yeah,” Cas nodded. “I was meaning to ask as well.”

“Still missing,” he said with a sigh. “Disappeared after her attack.”

“Damn,” Cas said, tossing down a chicken bone on his plate. “Sucks. We were so close this time.”

“What do you mean ‘we were so close’? We ran,” Dorian scoffed. “We were nowhere near close.”

“We had no choice,” Cas said, rolling his eyes. “We were kidnapped by the MOM.”

“Maybe rescued or saved would be a better description,” Matthias said idly.

Cas scowled. “We didn't need saving.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Then beg, Arnoux.”

“Wow, Blackthorn.”

“Oh, yeah? Do you have a—”

“Shut up,” Zephyr cut in tiredly.

The two boys deflated, looking like kicked puppies.

“What’s next?” Nathalie asked, twirling her spoon.

She hadn't eaten much, and for some reason, Zephyr decided not to either, despite being extremely hungry.

Cas reached for his fifth slice of pie. “Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid.”

Matthias reached for his goblet of cola and it was knocked right out of his hands. The drink splashed across the table.

Hills smiled down at them, “sorry about that.”

He grabbed the last slice of pie and walked off.

Cas stared after him, “that little shit…”

“I mean, after what we did, it’s fair,” Dorian said uncomfortably, not looking at his brother.

“Not that,” Cas said, sadly scooping his food up. “The pie. My beautiful pie. My last piece of untouched pie.”

“You’ll live,” Zephyr promised him.

Soon enough, they were done and headed off to their next class. It was freezing outside. Mist covered the grounds like a veil and their socks were wet from the condensation on the grass.

They went down the sloping lawns to Hagrid’s hut on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Most of the students were already there.

Malfoy was talking animatedly to Crabbe and Goyle, who were chortling. Hagrid was waiting for his class at the door of his hut. He stood in his moleskin overcoat, with Fang the boarhound at his heels, looking impatient to start.

“C’mon, now, get a move on!” he called as the class approached. “Got a real treat for yeh today! Great lesson comin’ up! Everyone here? Right, follow me!”

Hagrid strolled off around the edge of the trees, and five minutes later, they found themselves outside a kind of paddock. There was nothing in there.

“Everyone gather ’round the fence here!” he called. “That’s it, make sure yeh can see. Now, firs’ thing yeh’ll want ter do is open yer books—”

“How?” said the cold, drawling voice of Draco Malfoy.

“Eh?” said Hagrid.

“How do we open our books?” Malfoy repeated.

He took out his copy of The Monster Book of Monsters, which he had bound shut with a length of rope. Other people took theirs out too; some had belted their book shut; others had crammed them inside tight bags or clamped them together with binder clips.

Cas had wrapped his in a spare Slytherin tie. Dorian’s was duct taped shut. Matthias’, which seemed to have been done in a creative mood, was bound in wrapping paper. Zephyr had her’s in a belt whilst Nathalie had used a ribbon to tie a cute little bow on top.

“Hasn’...hasn’ anyone bin able ter open their books?” said Hagrid, looking crestfallen.

The class all shook their heads.

“Yeh’ve got ter stroke ’em,” said Hagrid, as though this was the most obvious thing in the world. “Look—”

He took Hermione’s copy and ripped off the Spellotape that bound it. The book tried to bite, but Hagrid ran a giant forefinger down its spine, and the book shivered, and then fell open and lay quiet in his hand.

Cas and Dorian, being immature teenager boys, both began to snicker behind their hands. Matthias gave them a tired look.

“Oh, how silly we’ve all been!” Malfoy sneered. “We should have stroked them! Why didn’t we guess?”

“Oh, tremendously funny!” said Malfoy. “Really witty, giving us books that try and rip our hands off!” 

“Shut up, Malfoy,” said Harry.

“Righ’ then,” said Hagrid, who seemed to have lost his thread, “so yeh’ve got yer books an’—now yeh need the Magical Creatures. Yeah. So I’ll go an’ get ’em. Hang on . . .”

He strode away from them into the forest and out of sight.

“God, this place is going to the dogs,” said Malfoy loudly. “That oaf teaching classes, my father’ll have a fit when I tell him—”

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Harry repeated.

“Careful, Potter, there’s a dementor behind you—”

“Oooooooh!” squealed Lavender Brown, pointing toward the opposite side of the paddock.

Trotting toward them were a dozen of the most bizarre creatures she had ever seen. They had the bodies, hind legs, and tails of horses, but the front legs, wings, and heads of what seemed to be giant eagles, with cruel, steel-colored beaks and large, brilliantly orange eyes.

The talons on their front legs were half a foot long and deadly looking. Each of the beasts had a thick leather collar around its neck, which was attached to a long chain, and the ends of all of these were held in the vast hands of Hagrid, who came jogging into the paddock behind the creatures.

The hippogriffs’ gleaming coats were changing smoothly from feather to hair, each of them a different color: stormy gray, bronze, pinkish roan, gleaming chestnut, and inky black. They were beautiful.

“Oh, wow,” Nathalie gasped in awe.

Zephyr glanced at Cas to see his reaction but he was too busy whispering to Dorian, both of them shooting devious looks at Draco who was growing increasingly pale.

Yep, they were going to get detention by the end of the class. Zephyr sighed.

“Gee up, there!” he roared, shaking the chains and urging the creatures toward the fence where the class stood.

Everyone drew back slightly as Hagrid reached them and tethered the creatures to the fence.

“Hippogriffs!” Hagrid roared happily, waving a hand at them. “Beau’iful, aren’ they?”

“So,” said Hagrid, rubbing his hands together and beaming around, “if yeh wan’ ter come a bit nearer—”

Cas began moving, not towards the animals, but towards Malfoy who began backing away.

Once Draco had edged himself towards the treeline, Cas stopped and gave the boy a mocking grin. 

“Asshole,” Draco spat, trembling. 

“Don't you ever forget it,” Cas said in a sing-song voice and ventured back to her. “Right, where were we?”

“Wanna go close to it?” Zephyr asked him, genuinely eager to go closer.

“You bet,” Cas grinned at her and together, they started towards the creatures.

“Now, firs’ thing yeh gotta know abou’ hippogriffs is, they’re proud,” said Hagrid. “Easily offended, hippogriffs are. Don’t never insult one, ’cause it might be the last thing yeh do.”

“Yeh always wait fer the hippogriff ter make the firs’ move,” Hagrid continued. “It’s polite, see? Yeh walk toward him, and yeh bow, an’ yeh wait. If he bows back, yeh’re allowed ter touch him. If he doesn’ bow, then get away from him sharpish, ’cause those talons hurt. Right — who wants ter go first?” 

Most of the class backed farther away in answer.

“Me,” Zephyr called out, surprising even herself.

She was always fascinated with magical creatures. They were just so incredibly cool.

She approached slowly and the largest Hippogriff examined her lazily. She made an effort not to look at its sharp claws and slowly bowed.

She could sense Cas tense up behind her. If anything went wrong, he’d jump in instantly.

The Hippogriff paused, cocking its head and then, in one graceful motion, lowered its head to her and dropped to its front knees.

“That’s it, Zephyr!” Hagrid sounded delighted. “Go on then, touch its beak!”

Zephyr approached cautiously, holding her breath. She let it sniff her hand first before laying her trembling palm on its beak. It was hard and smooth, just like polished wood.

Slowly, she ran her fingers over it, marveling how docile the creature was beneath her touch. She ventured a bit further, brushing the feather's softly, ready to pull away if she had to, but all the Hippogriff did was nuzzle into her touch.

“It likes you!” Hagrid exclaimed. “Righ’ then, Zephyr, I reckon Buckbeak might’ let yeh ride him!”

“Er…” Zephyr faltered.

Touching it was one thing. Riding it was something else entirely.

“Yeh climb up there, jus’ behind the wing joint,” said Hagrid, “an’ mind yeh don’ pull any of his feathers out, he won’ like that..."

Zephyr put her foot on the top of Buckbeak’s wing and hoisted herself onto its back with much difficulty. 

Buckbeak stood up. Zephyr wasn’t sure where to hold on; everything in front of her was covered with feathers.

“Go on, then!” roared Hagrid, slapping the hippogriff’s hindquarters.

Without warning, twelve-foot wings flapped open on either side of Zephyr; she just had time to seize the hippogriff around the neck before she was soaring upward. 

She was already hopeless on a broomstick. This was her version of hell.

The hippogriff’s wings beat uncomfortably on either side of her, catching her under her legs and making her feel she was about to be thrown off; the glossy feathers slipped under her fingers and she didn’t dare get a stronger grip.

Zephyr felt herself rocking backward and forward as the hindquarters of the hippogriff rose and fell with its wings.

“Oh, lord above, save me,” she began praying.

It flew her once around the paddock and then headed back to the ground; this was the bit she had been dreading; Zephyr leaned back as the smooth neck lowered, feeling as if she was going to slip off over the beak, then felt a heavy thud as the four ill-assorted feet hit the ground.

She just managed to hold on and push herself straight again.

“Good work, Zephyr!” roared Hagrid.

“That's my girl!” Cas yelled, whooping loudly as she dismounted.

She wobbled over to him and let Cas pulled her into a hug.

“Never let me do that again,” she begged him, heaving for breath. She had forgotten how to inhale whilst in flight.

“What are you talking about? You did amazing! You were a natural,” Dorian cheered as he clapped her on her back.

She swallowed back a wave of nausea and waved the blond away. “Please, don't.”

The rest of the class began towards the creatures, emboldened by her success.

Cas pressed a brief kiss to her forehead that made her heart beat increase even further and dashed off towards the nearest Hippogriff, Dorian and Matthias close behind.

Nathalie hung back, shaking her head. “Oh, absolutely not.”

Zephyr stood with her beneath the shade of the tree, and watched the chaos erupt around them.

“He kissed your head,” Nathalie stated coldly.

“What?”

“Just now.”

Zephyr gave her a bewildered look, “I supposed he did, yes. Why?”

“You said he didn't like you,” Nathalie’s lip began to tremble, to Zephyr’s horror.

“He doesn't! It was a platonic thing!” Zephyr exclaimed and then waved off the concerned looks from her three boys who were all petting one of the creatures. “I don't understand.”

“And you let him,” Nathalie’s eyes were teary. “You know how much I like him!”

“So? He was my friend first!” Zephyr snapped, finally losing her temper. “He was mine first! You invaded my group. You came last.”

Instantly, regret flared up in her as Nathalie let out a sob.

Yes, she knew Nathalie liked him, but Cas was…well, Cas. He had always been extremely close to Zephyr. They had a bond that no one else would understand. Zephyr was there when no one else was. She did come first.

Nathalie whispered, her voice shaky, “I can't believe you.”

She turned and ran off back towards the castle.

“What the fuck?” She said to the empty air.

“Where’d she go?” Matthias asked, approaching.

He had heard Nathalie yelling. Oh dear. Was their row that loud?

“I…” Zephyr bit her tongue. “Dunno. Just went away.”

“Were you two fighting?” Dorian asked, also coming over.

“No,” she faltered and then, against her better judgment, admitted, “well, she started it.”

“I’ll go after her,” Matthias said, eyebrows raised.

He began his journey back as well.

Zephyr stared at his back as he walked away, an unplaceable emotion rising in her. She felt like a disgusting human being. Nathalie was her friend, in a very broad sense, and Zephyr did know she liked Cas. Was it girl code to distance herself from him for her? 

Ever since Nathalie joined their group, Zephyr had been extremely cold towards her, treating her like an annoying bug buzzing in her ear. After everything Nathalie went through, Zephyr was adding more trauma to the poor girl. Nathalie even knew they weren't friends with her by choice but still looked beyond it.

“I…” Zephyr stopped, feeling horrible.

Dorian shrugged, “whatever. Girls are so confusing.”

“I’m a girl.”

“Okay, Nathalie is confusing, then.”

Cas hadn't left the Hippogriff’s side. He had looked back to check out the commotion but decided it wasn't worth his attention.

“What was it about, anyways?” Dorian asked her, leaning back against the tree.

“Just,” Zephyr sighed. “Nothing.”

“It didn't look like nothing.”

“Just leave it.”

“Guys, look!” Cas yelled as he clambered onboard the Hippogriff.

Chapter 30: 3.4

Summary:

as usual, two chapters and then i byebye!!

sorry nathalie became useless...bad planning...but this book is mostly my own plot. midway through, it deviates completely from the original story!! it becomes really crazy i am not sure if i was mentally okay when i wrote it

this chapter is short but the next is very long...AND we finally get into the plot!!!

Matthias was standing at the doorway to their Common Room, looking very pissed off. His face was red and his eyes were cold. Zephyr’s hands began to shake and she hid them behind her back.

Zephyr took a step back when his sharp gaze fell on her.

Cas’ eyebrows raised but he just casually tucked his tie into his robes, “what’s up?”

“What’s up?” Matthias repeated, fuming. “You want to know what's up? Maybe Zephyr can tell you what she said to Nathalie.”

Dorian blinked, taken aback. “What?”

Cas’ expression changed oh-so slightly and he straightened up, “watch your tone, Arnoux.”

“Maybe you should tell her that,” Matthias seethed, fists clenched by his side. “Zephyr told Nathalie that she didn't belong here, that she invaded our group. After everything Nathalie went through, why would you even think of saying that?”

Zephyr swallowed hard, tears brimming in her eyes. “It just came out. I didn't mean it.”

She did, in fact, mean it, but seeing how angry Matthias was, Zephyr decided it would be a very bad idea to admit the truth.

Cas glanced at her, surprise colouring his features. “You said that?”

“Wow,” Dorian said simply and then casted his gaze to the ground.

“I’m sorry,” Zephyr whispered, feeling very small.

She was crying now. Matthias was her best friend. He understood her very well. He helped her unlock her memories after Lockhart. He helped to keep her friends in line. He didn't cause unnecessary trouble and gave her an easier time overall managing her two other boys. 

Zephyr thought, after all they had been through, he would be on her side.

Matthias let out a humourless chuckle and said, “you should tell her that. Nathalie hasn't stopped crying. Of all people to understand her, it should be you three. We were all betrayed and hurt. She went through the same thing.”

“Stop it, Arnoux,” Cas said, taking a step forward, putting himself between them. “Zephyr is right. Nathalie was never part of our group. Our job is to protect her, not befriend her.”

“You are unbelievable, Blackthorn,” Matthias said. “And how about you, Harlot?”

“Oh, we’re on last name terms now?” Dorian asked, yawning. “I think that, no matter right or wrong, I’m standing right by Zeph’.”

Matthias stared at them. Her boys didn't look away.

“Don't forget, Arnoux, that Zephyr was the one that let you into our group too,” Cas said quietly, voice laced with venom. “If she didn't like you when you approached us last year, you wouldn't have been here so long. Don’t forget that.”

“I never did!” Matthias exclaimed, letting out a heavy sigh. “God, I never will. You guys are my closest friends I ever had. But, come on, you must have a bit of decency. Nathalie doesn't need to feel unwelcome. She’s gone through so much already.”

“And what about Zephyr?” Cas yelled. His voice rang through the empty room.

Everyone was thankfully in their next classes now.

Her best friend was trembling too. Dorian grabbed his shoulder but Cas shook him off.

He continued, rage chasing his words out in nearly incoherent sentences, “if I left her alone from the start, she would never have gone through so much shit! If we all didn't bring her into our messes, she would have lived normally! Her father changed so much just to protect us. Haven't you thought about that? Zephyr gave up everything for us and there you are, siding with some girl you just met. Can't you be more grateful?”

Zephyr sobbed into her palm. Casspian rarely yelled. She never seen him display such emotions in front of anyone else before. Dorian was pale, feverishly glancing back and forth.

Matthias’ mouth fell open halfway through his rant. He was looking at her differently, now. Guilt filled his face.

“I never thought of it that way,” he whispered.

“That's the problem,” Cas said, chest heaving from screaming. He gulped in air and continued, “you can't just say that after what Zephyr gave up for us.”

“I’m sorry,” Matthias said to her, taking a hesitant step forward. “God, I don't know what came over me. You were absolutely right. I just…Nathalie is like me. We’re both new to this group. You three already have such a bond that I always feel left out. I related to her, that’s why I got so angry, but—”

“Zephyr,” Cas finally noticed how she was practically hyperventilating and pulled her into a hug. “Shh, it's okay, Firefly. Matthias was being stupid. I’m on your side.”

Firefly.

The nickname grounded her. She clutched his shirt as he held her tight. 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” Matthias said but his voice was a mile away.

“Maybe we should all take a deep breath,” Dorian suggested.

“I don't think Zephyr is even breathing,” Cas said, rubbing her scalp. “Hey…you okay?”

She nodded.

He tried to pull away to look at her but she grabbed on again. He enveloped her once more.

“Can you give us some space?” Cas asked softly. The two other boys didn't move. “Go!”

At his exclamation, Matthias and Dorian scuttled out of the room. The door shut behind them and they were left alone.

“Cas,” she whispered softly.

“Yeah, firefly?”

“I hate her. I hate Nathalie,” she admitted.

Cas only tightened his grip.

“She’s trying to take you from me,” Zephyr said, voice shaking. “That's why I said what I said to her. I can't lose you. God, not you; anyone but you. You were mine first. You are mine.”

Cas laughed lightly, brushing a kiss across her forehead. “I am yours. I never belonged to anyone more than you. Don't worry your little head over that girl, Zeph’. Nothing but death will separate us, and even if I’m dead, I’ll claw my way out of hell to be with you.”

He sighed and said softly, “I found a different meaning to your nickname your mom gave you.”

“What's that?” She leaned her head against his shirt, savouring the rise and fall of his chest. His heartbeat was so soothing.

“Well,” his voice vibrated through her, a comforting thrum that was similar to a cat’s purring. “You're my firefly, a light in the dark, guiding me home to you. My firefly, my saving grace, my angel. It may be strange to hear this, but you're my religion. I believe in no one else but you, Zeph’, and I worship no one else but you.”

Zephyr stifled a laugh. “What? That makes no sense.”

“It does to me,” he protested but she could hear his grin through his words.

“So,” he said, drawling, “what do you want to do now? Go back to class or skip this one or just skip the rest of the day and relax in bed?”

“The third sounds the most tempting,” she said.

He grinned as he pulled away and grabbed her hand, “decision made, then!”

 

Chapter 31: 3.5

Summary:

yes hi im sorry I had completely forgotten about this book. er in terms of progress, i'm halfway-ish through writing goblet of fire, but its not the most eventful. i have a teeny-tiny idea but im stuck in writer's block at the moment.

anyways, back to our irregular updates—

It was their first DATDA lesson. Matthias and the three of them were back on okay terms. Nathalie had found herself a new group of friends, all girls, and spent most of the time gossiping.

Cas had written to the Ministry to tell them they would not be her friend but will still look out for her wellbeing. The ministry agreed and that was that.

Professor Lupin wasn’t there when they arrived at his first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson. They all sat down, took out their books, quills, and parchment, and were talking when he finally entered the room.

Lupin smiled vaguely and placed his tatty old briefcase on the teacher’s desk. He was as shabby as ever but looked healthier than he had on the train, as though he had had a few square meals.

“Good afternoon,” he said. “Would you please put all your books back in your bags. Today’s will be a practical lesson. You will need only your wands.”

Cas and her exchanged excited grins. All four of them had high hopes for their newest teacher, especially since he handled the Dementors on the train professionally.

“Right then,” said Professor Lupin, when everyone was ready. “If you’d follow me.”

Puzzled but interested, the class got to its feet and followed Professor Lupin out of the classroom.

“I wonder if we’re going to fight something,” Cas whispered to them.

Dorian shrugged, “who knows? Maybe the Dementors were brought here for an ulterior motive.”

“What, like for target practice?” Matthias asked.

“Something like that,” Cas said, glancing in front to see where they were. “They're immortal, right?”

He led them along the deserted corridor and around a corner, where the first thing they saw was Peeves the Poltergeist, who was floating upside down in midair and stuffing the nearest keyhole with chewing gum.

“Sure, but it’s still a crime to attack them,” Zephyr reminded.

“Not for us!” Cas said gleefully, the glint in his eyes making her feel slightly uneasy.

Peeves didn’t look up until Professor Lupin was two feet away; then he wiggled his curly-toed feet and broke into song.

“Loony, loopy Lupin,” Peeves sang. “Loony, loopy Lupin, loony, loopy Lupin —”

Rude and unmanageable as he almost always was, Peeves usually showed some respect toward the teachers. Everyone looked quickly at Professor Lupin to see how he would take this; to their surprise, he was still smiling.

“I’d take that gum out of the keyhole if I were you, Peeves,” he said pleasantly. “Mr. Filch won’t be able to get into his brooms.”

Filch was the Hogwarts caretaker, a bad-tempered, failed wizard who waged a constant war against the students and, indeed, Peeves. However, Peeves paid no attention to Professor Lupin’s words, except to blow a loud wet raspberry.

Professor Lupin gave a small sigh and took out his wand.

“This is a useful little spell,” he told the class over his shoulder. “Please watch closely.”

He raised the wand to shoulder height, said, “Waddiwasi!” and pointed it at Peeves.

With the force of a bullet, the wad of chewing gum shot out of the keyhole and straight down Peeves’s left nostril; he whirled upright and zoomed away, cursing.

“Cool, sir!” said Dean Thomas in amazement. 

“Thank you, Dean,” said Professor Lupin, putting his wand away again. “Shall we proceed?”

“Oh, I love this guy,” Cas said with a happy sigh. “I love this class.”

They set off again, the class looking at shabby Professor Lupin with increased respect. He led them down a second corridor and stopped, right outside the staffroom door.

“Inside, please,” said Professor Lupin, opening it and standing back.

The staffroom, a long, paneled room full of old, mismatched chairs, was empty except for one teacher.

Professor Snape was sitting in a low armchair, and he looked around as the class filed in. His eyes were glittering and there was a nasty sneer playing around his mouth.

As Professor Lupin came in and made to close the door behind him, Snape said, “Leave it open, Lupin. I’d rather not witness this.”

He got to his feet and strode past the class, his black robes billowing behind him.

At the doorway he turned on his heel and said, “Possibly no one’s warned you, Lupin, but this class contains Neville Longbottom. I would advise you not to entrust him with anything difficult. Not unless Miss Granger is hissing instructions in his ear.”

“What?” Cas asked.

Dorian filled them in that during Snape’s Potions class Neville had made a shrinking potion wrongly but Hermione had saved him.

Professor Lupin had raised his eyebrows. 

“I was hoping that Neville would assist me with the first stage of the operation,” he said, “and I am sure he will perform it admirably.”

Neville’s face went, if possible, even redder. Snape’s lip curled, but he left, shutting the door with a snap.

“Now, then,” said Professor Lupin, beckoning the class toward the end of the room, where there was nothing but an old wardrobe where the teachers kept their spare robes. 

As Professor Lupin went to stand next to it, the wardrobe gave a sudden wobble, banging off the wall.

Matthias flinched away from the wardrobe, eyes wide.

“Nothing to worry about,” said Professor Lupin calmly because a few people had jumped backward in alarm. “There’s a boggart in there.”

Dorian let out a choked gasp as he blindly grabbed at Matthias' arm, the ginger boy clutching the blond in return. 

Most people seemed to feel that this was something to worry about. Neville gave Professor Lupin a look of pure terror, and Seamus Finnigan eyed the now rattling doorknob apprehensively.

Cas began to grin wildly, “oh, no way.”

“Yes, Mister Casspian. Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces,” said Professor Lupin. “Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, the cupboards under sinks — I once met one that had lodged itself in a grandfather clock. This one moved in yesterday afternoon, and I asked the headmaster if the staff would leave it to give my third years some practice.”

“So, the first question we must ask ourselves is, what is a boggart?”

Hermione put up her hand before Cas could.

“It’s a shape-shifter,” she said. “It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most.”

Cas scowled at her, his hand falling down. “I’ve always wanted to see what my greatest fear is.”

“Couldn’t have put it better myself,” said Professor Lupin, and Hermione began to glow with self-pride. “So the boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form. He does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a boggart looks like when he is alone, but when I let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us fears most.”

"He?" Matthias blurted out, in his usual confused manner.

"He, her, them," Lupin waved his hand dismissively, "a Boggart has no gender for it can transform into any and all, but in views of the...male gender causing more violence and fear throughout history as compared to women, I have taken a liking to referring to this creature as a He."

"Oh," Matthias said, looking slightly surprised. "That's fair."

“This means,” said Professor Lupin, moving on from the sudden and rather modern discussion, “that we have a huge advantage over the boggart before we begin. Have you spotted it, Harry?”

“Er, because there are so many of us, it won’t know what shape it should be?”

“Have you ever encountered one?” Cas asked Dorian, who looked paler than usual.

“No, but I have an inkling feeling I know exactly what my fear would be,” he muttered. “I want to throw up.”

Cas’ leaned away, “don't do it on me.”

“Thank you for your concern, my dearest,” Dorian said dryly.

“Anytime, honey,” Cas replied with a small smirk.

Dorian slapped his shoulder. Cas kicked backwards and a small scuffle ensued.

“Please do pay attention, Mister Arnoux and Mister Blackthorn.”

The two boys frozed, turning red.

Lupin smiled and said, “it’s always best to have company when you’re dealing with a boggart. He becomes confused. Which should he become, a headless corpse or a flesh-eating slug? I once saw a boggart make that very mistake — tried to frighten two people at once and turned himself into half a slug. Not remotely frightening.“

"On the contrary, that sounds terrifying," Zephyr muttered to Cas who hid a snort of laughter.

“The charm that repels a boggart is simple, yet it requires force of mind. You see, the thing that really finishes a boggart is laughter. What you need to do is force it to assume a shape that you find amusing.“

“Mister Casspian, do you know this charm?”

Cas blinked, surprised at being called, then nodded, “it’s, erm, Riddikulus.”

"That's a bit rude," Zephyr said with a frown.

"What?" Cas blinked. "No, the spell is literally named that."

"Oh. Sorry, I thought you were being more brass than usual."

“Five points to Slytherin,” Lupin said, looking pleased. “Right, let's practice the pronunciation without wands first. Riddikulus!”

"How would you even spell that?" Dorian whispered to them.

"Spell? Just annunciate it," Matthias replied, furrowing his brows.

"Not spell, but spell. Like, the letters." Dorian gave an exasperated sigh.

"I think all our brains are fried," Cas said, a smile tugging at his lips. "We are awfully dumb today. But, to answer your question, it's spelled with two 'D's, a 'K' and a 'U' replacing the 'O'."

"I'm even more confused now, thanks."

"You're welcome."

“Good,” said Professor Lupin. “Very good. But that was the easy part, I’m afraid. You see, the word alone is not enough. And this is where you come in, Neville.”

The wardrobe shook again, though not as much as Neville, who walked forward as though he were heading for the gallows.

Cas grinned, practically vibrating, “I want to go next.”

“We know,” Matthias said with a sigh.

Cas’ foot was tapping on the floor excitedly. He looked like he was going to bounce off the walls.

“Right, Neville,” said Professor Lupin. “First things first: What would you say is the thing that frightens you most in the world?”

Neville’s lips moved, but no noise came out.

“Didn’t catch that, Neville, sorry,” said Professor Lupin cheerfully.

Neville looked around rather wildly, as though begging someone to help him, then said, in barely more than a whisper, “Professor Snape.”

Nearly everyone laughed. Even Neville grinned apologetically. Professor Lupin, however, looked thoughtful.

“Professor Snape. Hmm . . . Neville, I believe you live with your grandmother?”

“Er, yes,” said Neville nervously. “But, I don’t want the boggart to turn into her either.”

“No, no, you misunderstand me,” said Professor Lupin, now smiling. “I wonder, could you tell us what sort of clothes your grandmother usually wears?”

“Neville looked startled, but said, “well, always the same hat. A tall one with a stuffed vulture on top. And a long dress...green, normally and sometimes a fox-fur scarf.”

“And a handbag?” prompted Professor Lupin.

“A big red one,” said Neville.

“Right then,” said Professor Lupin. “Can you picture those clothes very clearly, Neville? Can you see them in your mind’s eye?”

“Yes,” said Neville uncertainly, plainly wondering what was coming next. 

“When the boggart bursts out of this wardrobe, Neville, and sees you, it will assume the form of Professor Snape,” said Lupin. “And you will raise your wand — thus — and cry ‘Riddikulus’ — and concentrate hard on your grandmother’s clothes. If all goes well, Professor Boggart Snape will be forced into that vulture-topped hat, and that green dress, with that big red handbag.”

Laughter bubbled through the room, breaking the nervous energy that crackled through the air. The wardrobe, unhappy that they were happy, wobbled more violently in protest.

“If Neville is successful, the boggart is likely to shift his attention to each of us in turn,” said Professor Lupin. “I would like all of you to take a moment now to think of the thing that scares you most, and imagine how you might force it to look comical.”

The room went quiet.

Zephyr wasn't sure what she feared most. Maybe Voldemort? She recalled the events that transpired but it didn't feel like it was the scariest thing that ever happened to her.

Then, like a bomb going off in her mind, she knew.

It would be Lockhart. That was who she was the most afraid of– the man who tore her innocence away from her.

What could make him less scary? It wasn't as if he was some terrifying creature, he was just a man that had the devil living beneath his skin. How would she make him look funny? Nothing about him could be hilarious.

Cas nudged her lightly, “imagine him bald and dressed as an elf. The ones that help Santa at the mall. Or, imagine him after you defeated him during every dueling club practice.”

“How–how did you know who I was thinking about?” Zephyr asked with a start, staring up into his kind, grey eyes.

He winked, “I always know what you're thinking about.”

She nodded shakily.

“You got this, Firefly,” he muttered and squeezed her hand.

She took a deep breath. She had it.

“Everyone ready?” said Professor Lupin.

Everyone was nodding and rolling up their sleeves. Matthias was loosening his tie, whilst Dorian fiddled with his hair, as if preparing to make a great first impression with the boggart.

“Neville, we’re going to back away,” said Professor Lupin. “Let you have a clear field, all right? I’ll call the next person forward. Everyone back, now, so Neville can get a clear shot —”

They all retreated, backed against the walls, leaving Neville alone beside the wardrobe. He looked pale and frightened, but he had pushed up the sleeves of his robes and was holding his wand ready.

“On the count of three, Neville,” said Professor Lupin, who was pointing his own wand at the handle of the wardrobe. “One, two, three— now!”

Jets of sparks shot from the end of Professor Lupin’s wand and hit the doorknob.

The wardrobe burst open. Hook-nosed and menacing, Professor Snape stepped out, his eyes flashing at Neville.

Neville backed away, his wand up, mouthing wordlessly. Snape was bearing down upon him, reaching inside his robes.

“R-R-Riddikulus!” squeaked Neville.

There was a noise like a whip crack. Snape stumbled; he was wearing a long, lace-trimmed dress and a towering hat topped with a moth-eaten vulture, and he was swinging a huge crimson handbag.

There was a roar of laughter. The boggart froze, glancing around at the delighted children before him.

“Pansy!”

Her’s was a large dog with glowing red eyes. She turned it into a large, colourful koi fish that flopped around on the floor in confusion.

Professor Lupin shouted, “Parvati! Forward!”

Parvati walked forward, her face set. Snape rounded on her. There was another crack, and where he had stood was a blood-stained, bandaged mummy; its sightless face was turned to Parvati and it began to walk toward her very slowly, dragging its feet, its stiff arms rising.

“Riddikulus!” cried Parvati.

A bandage unraveled at the mummy’s feet; it became entangled, fell face forward, and its head rolled off. It chased after its lost body part and grabbed it before it went too far.

“Draco!”

Malfoy started forward. It turned into his father and it was dealt with quickly and brutally, a gigantic, rope-bound weasel replacing the man. Its whiskers twitched as it began to struggle. Everyone was whispering as Malfoy walked back.

“What?” He snapped.

“Seamus!” roared Professor Lupin.

Seamus darted past Draco.

Crack! Where the animal had been was a woman with floor-length black hair and a skeletal, green-tinged face — a banshee. She opened her mouth wide and an unearthly sound filled the room, a long, wailing shriek that made the hair on Harry’s head stand on end. 

“Riddikulus!” shouted Seamus.

“Dorian!” 

Dorian stepped forward easily, his non-wand hand in his pocket, looking like the definition of calm. Everyone inched forward, they all wanted to see what a Bloodtraitor was terrified of.

Crack.

Dorian’s father stood there. He wore a black dress suit, all prim and proper. His blond hair was neatly slicked back, just like how Dorian did his. They looked so identical it was like seeing her friend thirty years into the future. Zephyr realised with a start that Dorian had intentionally fixed his appearance earlier, knowing exactly who the boggart would turn into.

“Riddikulus,” the blond said quietly.

Crack. The sound was softer than the rest, but somehow more firm, like a quiet command. That was how Dorian's magic felt like–nearly soundless yet overpoweringly authoritative.

His father’s eyes were shut, hands placed delicately across his chest. He was pale and stiff–like he was dead. No, he was dead.

The room was pin-drop silent for a moment, all taking in the sight with varying looks of fear.

“Matthias,” Professor Lupin said, after a hesitant pause.

Matthias walked over to where Dorian stood. As the two boys passed each other, they gave each other a quick fist bump, like they were passing over the responsibility to the other.

Matthias’ was his mother. His face seemed to drain of all colour.

“Riddikulus,” the ginger yelled.

His mother turned into an inflatable balloon, blowing up comically. Her face was riddled with panic.

“Casspian!”

Now, everyone’s attention was laser focused on her best friend. Cas walked in, his back straight, gait arrogant.

Crack.

They all watched with bated breath as the boggart turned into his greatest fear. What would the most deadly wizard of their generation be afraid of?

Zephyr stood in front of the wardrobe. Well, not Zephyr, but the boggart that looked like her. Clone Zephyr was unhealthily thin, like she hadn't eaten in weeks. Her clothes hung loosely over her pale, skeletal frame. Her eyes were empty and haunted. That Zephyr looked like she had lost all hope.

Dorian whistled and then covered it up with a cough.

That Zephyr wobbled forward, unable to hold herself up.

Her (the real her) jaw dropped. Cas’ greatest fear was her?

“Oh, damn,” Cas said mildly. “Sorry, Zeph’. Riddikulus!”

Her clone’s clothes changed. She was now covered in neon yellow paint, glowing like a lamp and looking thoroughly embarrassed.

“Zephyr next!”

There were several giggles.

“Oh, wow,” Zephyr said drily as she approached her clone.

“Sorry,” Cas said apologetically. “It was the funniest story of you.”

“Damn you.”

Crack.

Lockhart stood before her, his teeth gleaming and his hair perfect as ever. But the look on his face made her blood run cold. It was how he looked at her the day he tried to…

She shivered, her hands weak and numb. Her ears rang, drowning out the noise of the room. Zephyr was against the wall. He loomed over her. He smelled like some expensive cologne that was midway between musky and citrusy, a horrible combination that seemed to wrap around her like a viper, suffocating her.

Her back was against the wall. She was so, so cold.

No one would come to rescue her. She had never felt more helpless in her life.

Lockhart's fingers slipped across the skin of her inner thigh. Her heart tried to escape her chest.

His breath was warm and wet against her face and it stank, she tried to get away, she really did, but her legs seemed to be glued to the floor and—

“You can do it!” Cas’ cry cut through her panic.

“Riddikulus!” Zephyre shouted as warmth flooded her, shattering the ice that was filling her veins.

Lockhart was blasted back into the wardrobe so violently the whole thing toppled over. It crashed to the ground, leaving Lockhart sprawled inside. Lockhart had a large, smouldering hole in his chest, blood leaking out as he convulsed on the floor, arms and legs thudding heavily against the carpet.

Zephyr ran back to her friends.

Cas grabbed her and pulled her against him instantly. “You did so well! I’m so proud of you!”

“You were amazing,” Dorian agreed instantly.

Matthias chimed in, “you showed him.”

“It’s confused!” shouted Lupin. “We’re getting there! Dean!”

Lockhart struggled back to his feet.

“I’m your biggest fear?” Zephyr asked Cas quietly.

He shook his head, “not you. The idea that you destroy yourself is my biggest fear; that you shut me out, stop trusting me. I fear the day I lose you to your inner battles that you don't tell me about."

“Oh.” Zephyr felt strangely warm.

Dean hurried forward.

Crack! Lockheart turned into a severed hand, which flipped over and began to creep along the floor like a crab.

"Oh Merlin, that is freaky," Dorian took a step back.

“Riddikulus!” yelled Dean.

There was a snap, and the hand was trapped in a mousetrap.

“Excellent! Ron, you next!”

Ron leapt forward.

Crack!

Quite a few people screamed. A giant spider, six feet tall and covered in hair, was advancing on Ron, clicking its pincers menacingly. 

“Riddikulus!” bellowed Ron, and the spider’s legs vanished; it rolled over and over; Lavender Brown squealed and ran out of its way and it came to a halt at Harry’s feet. 

“Here!” shouted Professor Lupin suddenly, hurrying forward.

Crack!

The legless spider had vanished. For a second, everyone looked wildly around to see where it was. 

Then they saw a silvery-white orb hanging in the air in front of Lupin, who said, “Riddikulus!” almost lazily.

Crack!

“Forward, Neville, and finish him off!” said Lupin as the boggart landed on the floor as a cockroach. Crack! Snape was back. 

This time Neville charged forward looking determined.

“Riddikulus!” he shouted, and they had a split second’s view of Snape in his lacy dress before Neville let out a great “Ha!” of laughter, and the boggart exploded, burst into a thousand tiny wisps of smoke, and was gone.

“Excellent!” cried Professor Lupin as the class broke into applause. “Excellent, Neville. Well done, everyone. Let me see...five points to everyone for every person to tackle the boggart — ten for Neville because he did it twice...and five each to Hermione and Harry.”

“But I didn’t do anything,” said Harry.

“You and Hermione answered my questions correctly at the start of the class, Harry,” Lupin said lightly. “Very well, everyone, an excellent lesson. Homework, kindly read the chapter on boggarts and summarize it for me . . . to be handed in on Monday. That will be all. I’d like to see Zephyr and her friends before they leave, so please stay a while first.”

They exchanged confused glances but lingered as everyone filed out, chattering excitedly. S soon as the last student left the room, Lupin's face seemed to collapse into exhaustion and sorrow.

“What's up, Professor?” Cas asked tentatively.

“Close the door and sit down. You are all excused for your next class,” he said grimly. “I have some bad news to share.”

Dorian headed for the door and locked it. Zephyr glanced at Cas who shrugged cluelessly.

“Professor Dumbledore entrusted me to share this with you as I believe we are very alike, in terms of what we went through,” Lupin started. “When I was a boy, I was also enrolled in Hogwarts. My friends and I were like you three. We got into a lot of trouble and strange situations.”

They sat on the floor, too lazy to find a chair.

“And?” Dorian prompted.

“And,” the man said. “I need to inform you, Casspian, that your parents escaped Azkaban.”

There was a long silence. Cas was pale, shaking his head.

“No,” he whispered.

“Yes. The news arrived this morning. The Ministry is doing everything they can to find them. However, they…” he trailed off, rubbing his eyes.

He looked troubled and so, so tired. “I’m so sorry, but they asked for your help to find them again.”

“What do you mean?” Cas asked quietly. He was shaking.

“The only person who is skilled enough to find them is you, Cas.”

“He's not going alone!” Zephyr burst out. “I won't let him.”

“And he won't be,” Professor Lupin said. “You three of you can go with him, if you wish.”

“But, what about school?” Matthias asked, the most down-to-earth out of them all as always.

“It’ll be paused temporarily until his parents are found. No one will know why you are gone. I am so sorry for the burden placed on you.”

“And Nathalie?” Dorian asked, scratching his face.

“She will be taken care of by the teachers.”

Cas glanced at her. She held his eyes for a moment, trying to show that she was by his side through this.

“What do we do?” Cas said finally. His shoulders sagged under the new weight placed upon him.

“You have until tomorrow night to prepare to move off. Your parents have been missing for nearly a week and the Ministry is not willing to take any more risks. You’ll be provided enough supplies, as well as accommodations.”

“I..” Cas said and paused. “I can't ask you three to follow me. It’ll be dangerous. Many lost their lives when they first arrested my parents.”

“No way,” Zephyr said immediately. “I’m by your side.”

“So am I,” Dorian said with a shrug. “I’m not stupid, I know it's dangerous, but you need me.”

“And me,” Matthias said softly. “To make up for what I said the other day.”

“None of you have to do this.”

“We want to,” Zephyr gripped his wrist. “I promise.”

“Can we talk about this privately?” Cas asked the professor.

“Of course. Stay as long as you need to,” he said and got up, leaving the room.

Cas sprawled on the ground, eyes closed. “Why us? Why do bad things happen to us? What did we do to deserve this?”

“We didn't do anything, Cas,” she said gently. “But he is right. Only you can take them down.”

“You don't understand, Zeph’,” his eyes opened. “They are the most dangerous people alive. Even more than Voldemort. They kill without reason and remorse. They will even destroy children in their way. We will die.”

“And you don't understand that if you go down, we go down with you,” Dorian said idly. “We are Bloodtraitors, we have turned on our families. We have no one else but each other. We go down together. Forever.”

“Guys, I can't lose you,” Cas whispered, a tear rolling down his cheek.

“I can't lose you either,” Zephyr said fiercely, shaking his shoulder roughly.

“Ow.”

“Sorry.”

“I’ll ask you one more time,” Cas sat up, rubbing his face. “In or out?”

“In,” Zephyr said instantly.

“In,” Dorian agreed.

“In,” Matthias said.

“Okay,” Cas said, sighing. “Fine. Here's the plan, then. We learn what we need to know now. We train like hell for the next few hours because we will go through hell. And then, we win and we finish the year.”

“Sounds great,” Dorian said brightly. “And simple.”

“Hah,” Cas muttered. “Sure, simple.”

---

That night, they were brought to an empty room. Professor Lupin stood before them, dressed in loose clothing. They had spent the day playing card games, trying to be normal school children one last time before everything happened.

“Let's start with what you know,” Lupin said to them. “I heard that you were all very talented. The other Professors say you four are ahead of everyone in the school.”

“I can do any spell once I understand the concept behind it,” Cas said confidently.

They were all wearing muggle clothes and the cold of the night was nipping at her.

“And the rest?”

“We can keep up.” Dorian said confidently.

“Good,” Remus folded his sleeves up, producing his wand from his pocket. “What do you want to learn?”

Cas pursed his lips, “to Apparate.”

“Apparition is one of hardest spells to learn,” Lupin warned. “And can backfire horribly.”

“Hit us,” Cas said, rolling his shoulders. His entire body was tensed up, like he was cornered.

It frightened Zephyr–Cas had always been the predator, but now he acted like he was the prey.

“Firstly, you need to know how it works. You will need to be fully determined and confident that you’ll reach your destination. Only very powerful wizards can do it silently. Most of the time, the spell will be accompanied with a loud pop.”

Cas nodded. He was listening intently, eyes dark. It was scary, seeing how focused he was.

“If you aren't fully focused, say you're thinking of two different places at once, you will be ripped apart while traveling. Your torso and legs may end up in different locations,” Professor Lupin said grimly.

“Hold up, what?” Matthias said, gulping. “Erm.”

Dorian coughed quietly, “how likely is that to happen?”

“Very.” Lupin said.

“Cas, bro, you’re on your own learning this,” Dorian patted Cas on the back.

The brunette gave him a dirty look, “coward.”

“Sorry, I'd rather be in one piece. How is my severed leg going to help in any situation?”

“I could throw it,” Cas suggested. “That’d come in handy. Or leg-sy."

“Funny. Use your own.”

“No, thanks. My legs are more precious than yours, pole-boy.”

“Shut up,” Zephyr said tiredly.

The two boys deflated, looking at the ground.

“Go on, Professor,” Zephyr said.

Lupin grinned, “you really remind me of when I was a schoolboy. My friends and I behaved the same way. Right, since only Casspian is willing to learn this spell, I’ll make it even easier for him. Zephyr, please stand outside in the hallway. Mister Blackthorn, your goal is to aparate to Zephyr.”

Zephyr blinked. “Why me?”

“I have a feeling that where Cas wants to be the most is next to you. It’ll be the simplest way to get him to learn this spell,” Professor said to them.

Dorian whistled, winking at Cas who just rolled his eyes.

Zephyr headed for the door and called out as she left, “please come to me with every part of you intact. I’d die of a heart attack if only your severed head appears next to me.”

“I hope I won't lose my head too,” Cas replied, amusement colouring his words.

The hallway was dark and empty, a cold draft blowing through the stone walls. She shivered and closed the door behind her, leaving herself to wallow in the darkness.

Hogwarts was creepy as hell at night.

She wasn't sure how long it’d take for him to perform the spell successfully, so she settled down on the floor. Zephyr yawned, stretching her legs out as she twirled her wand.

She wanted to tell Cas about her recurring nightmares of Lockhart, how she could barely get an hour of sleep without waking up in tears. However, she knew Cas would immediately go find the man and try to kill him again.

Besides, they had a bucketful of shit to sort through and her little night terrors were the least of their worries right now. Who cared if she was exhausted to her bones when Cas’ parents were out running havoc?

Her fears felt so silly and insignificant at the moment. Yet, when the boggart turned into Lockhart, she had been paralysed by mind-numbing horror. Every psychological wound in her had been ripped open and was bleeding uncontrollably.

Zephyr sighed, rubbing her eyes. God, she was pathetic. She was friends with three of the bravest people she had the pleasure of meeting. They took down their goddamn families and laughed in the face of death. Then, there was her, forced to her knees by a mediocre wizard that used way too much hair gel.

She didn't deserve to fight by their sides. Hell, they didn't deserve to be burdened by her. Cas’ abilities were constantly restrained by her. Whenever she was too scared to continue, he would slow down for her. If she wasn't there to drag them down, so many things would have been accomplished by now.

If it was Cas who had gone to confront Quirrel in their first year, Voldemort would have been long dead. If Lockhart had tried to pull off the same crap with Cas, Lockhart would have been gone much faster. Zephyr wasn't up to her friends’ standards. They were like stars, shining bright and she was a cloud, blocking them from their true potential.

Crack!

Cas suddenly appeared and stumbled forward, collapsing to his knees. He dry-heaved, groaning loudly.

Zephyr jumped to his side, “hey, you okay?”

“Wow,” he choked, “that was horrible. Do I still have my legs?”

“Everything is attached,” she promised him, calming her racing heart.

“It's like being squeezed through a sewer pipe–gross and tight. Oh, lord, this is going to be a last resort spell. I want to curl up and die.”

Zephyr leaned back, patting him on the shoulder sympathetically, “if you can be overdramatic, you’re fine.”

Cas swept his hair from his face and frowned at her, “I am not being dramatic. Aparating really does feel like shit. Hey, do you know that the word ‘overdramatic’ is like, a suggestion of something even more extreme? Being dramatic is bad enough, but being overdramatic is…I don't know what I’m saying.”

Zephyr nodded sympathetically, “you may have left your brain behind.”

The door cracked open and Dorian popped his head out, “all intact?”

“Yep!” Cas said cheerfully.

Dorian let out an exaggerated sigh of disappointment, “I was hoping you’d lose your head and we’d be free of your constant chatter.”

“Oh, har-har Harlot,” Cas said and then paused, his eyes brightening with revelation.

Dorian shook his head, “no. Don't you fucking—”

“Har-har Harlot,” Cas repeated, a grin inching across his face. “Oh, my god.”

Dorian gave him the middle finger and slammed the door shut in their faces.

“Har-har Harlot!” Cas told her brightly.

“Yes, very funny,” she said dryly. “What a comedic genius.”

“Urgh, no one appreciates me,” Cas muttered. “I am the life of the party.”

“What party? What are you saying?”

“Nevermind. Anyways, hurray, I did it. Now what? What spell should I ask to learn next?” Cas sat up.

Zephyr shrugged, “maybe practice it until you have it down.”

“I would rather lick Snape’s shoes.”

“Odd choice.”

“It was a metaphor. Or an example. I’unno,” Cas shrugged. “It was the first disgusting thing I could think of. Point is, aparating is horrible. But, you three should learn it too. If you had to pick between unbearable nausea or death, which would you choose?”

“Good point,” Zephyr nodded.

Cas opened the door and beckoned to her. Together, they entered the room.

“Bravo, Casspian,” Professor Lupin congratulated. “How was it?”

“Painful, but not too hard. I just had to concentrate really hard. I think apparating to someone is easier than apparating to a place,” Cas said.

Matthias said, “it’d be tricky if we all apparated at the same time.”

“Split into four,” Dorian agreed with a grimace.

“Better learn now than regret not doing so later,” Cas told them.

They all groaned in reply.

It took the better part of the night for all of them to get it down. Once they could apparate to the other side of the door, they began increasing the distance. 

Soon enough, for their final trick, they teleported themselves back to bed. Zephyr collapsed onto the sheets, yawning loudly. It was six in the morning and breakfast was one and a half hours away. It wasn't like they were going to their usual classes the next day, though, but she still had to wake up by then.

Zephyr didn't even want to go to sleep. She knew that the moment her eyes were closed, she would see him again.

She was getting sick of his face. His evil, evil look in his eyes as he towered over her cowering body—

Zephyr shook her head and rolled over, burying her head into her pillow. God, she was a wreck; a sleep-deprived, self-loathing mess.

She sat up, her sheets pooling in her lap.  Biting her lip, she casted a gaze at the door. Cas would be dead asleep and she knew how much he needed the rest. However, what she wanted was to stay next to him, because no one could hurt her when he was there, and maybe her nightmares would fear him as well.

She swung her legs out of her bed and padded softly across her dormitory. The door creaked open and she hesitated in the darkness.

Cas needed rest. He was exhausted and definitely had to be on his best game to find his parents. He deserved an uninterrupted rest, especially since they barely could get any. She could be a big girl, couldn't she?

What she could be, she didn't know. The only thing she was a hundred percent confident in was that she needed Casspian. 

Up the stairs she went and stopped in front of her boys room. It was dead silent inside as she crept in. She knew the layout like the back of her hand. Cautiously, she headed over to his bed.

Cas slept curled up into a ball, an arm thrown across the bed. How would she wake him up without being punched in the face?

Gently, she poked him in the back. He swatted her hand away and began to snore.

“Cas,” she whispered, and shook his shoulder.

He awoke with a start, “ah! Who’s dying?”

Groggily, he blinked up at her. In the darkness, she couldn't really make him out, Cas was just an outline of blackness.

“Cas,” she repeated.

“Zeph’? Why? Are you okay?” He sat up, now fully alert.

Zephyr sighed and sat down, “nightmares. Of Lockhart. I can't sleep. I’m too scared to.”

Even though she could not see anything, she swore the boy’s eyes softened. 

“C’mere,” he reached for her and pulled her into a hug.

Zephyr stood between his legs, his arms wrapped tightly around her middle. She gripped his shoulders, focusing on the warmth beneath her palms. She was alright and she was safe. That was all that mattered.

Cas smelled like old books and the scent of a forest after a storm. It was intoxicating and comforting.

“He’s gone, firefly,” he said softly into her chest. “He will never come back. I made sure he would never lay a hand on anyone again.”

“I know,” she muttered. “But it doesn't change what he did already.”

“Oh, Zephyr. My Zephyr. I’m so sorry I wasn't there to stop him. I’ll spend the rest of my life begging on my knees for forgiveness.”

“There is nothing for me to forgive, Cas. It wasn't your fault.”

He leaned up and kissed her cheek, “wanna talk?”

“No,” she pulled back. “I want to sleep.”

“My bed is always open to you,” he settled down into his pillows. “C’mon. I’ll fight him off for you.”

Zephyr awkwardly squeezed in beside him. They laid side-by-side in silence for a couple of minutes.

“Zeph’?”

“Mhm?”

“Not to sound whiny, but this is kind of uncomfortable.”

She glared at him, though she could not see him through the darkness. “What do you propose, then?”

Cas chuckled softly and then his arm wrapped around her waist. He pulled her against his chest and dropped his chin into her hair.

Her heart was racing furiously and she could feel his, too. 

“Better?” She asked, trying and failing to sound casual.

Cas’ voice came back choked, “y-yeah.”

“Goodnight,” she whispered.

“Goodnight, Firefly.”

Chapter 32: 3.6

Summary:

Hello. The Goblet of Fire is #done!!! you know how i said this book would be crazy? yeah, the next one gets stranger. the last few tags will come true in the next book and tom riddle himself will be a regular guest on our podcast! so tune in for that

all jokes aside, im really grateful for you guys. this book isn't exactly famous or viral but the few that do come back to read it makes me feel so happy because what do you mean someone out there likes cas and Zephyr??? its so crazy to me.

love ya'll....three chapters coming now!

It was the best sleep Zephyr had since last year. She dreamt of nothing at all. When she woke, she was still cuddled against Cas.

Of course, Dorian and Mattias were watching them with large grins.

“Busy night?” Dorian asked.

Cas groaned into her neck, “shut up, Harlot.”

“Had a nightmare of him again,” she rubbed her eyes and sat up.

Dorian’s glee melted off his face instantly, replaced by barely hidden fury. “I see. Crash here any time.”

“How was your sleep?” Cas asked her, a hand over his eyes to block out the sunlight streaming in.

“Very good,” she admitted. “No nightmares for once.”

“Good,” he groaned and poked his side. “Can you help me get an itch on my back?”

She scratched his back.

“Bit lower…to the left…more, yep, ahh,” Cas stretched and yawned. “Thanks. God, I feel like I went several rounds against Lockhart in a wrestling ring. My entire body aches.”

“I promise you that you’d win easily,” Matthias said, grabbing a towel. “I’m starving.”

“Starve, then. I want to ‘zzz’ a bit more.” Cas hummed the letter.

“You’ll miss breakfast,” Dorian said. “I don't think Zephyr should.”

Cas glanced at her and she knew what he saw. Zephyr was getting ridiculously thin now. She was honestly a skeleton wrapped in skin. Zephyr just couldn't bring herself to eat nowadays. 

“Yeah, you're right,” Cas got up. “I am hungry.”

“I need to grab my stuff from my room,” she said. “I’ll meet you guys later.”

“We’ll be in the common room.”

Zephyr showered and changed into her uniform. It used to fit her well but now hung loosely on her frame. Her face was sunken–one could mistake her for a Dementor.

Whatever. She was fine.

Zephyr met up with her boys downstairs and they headed off to eat.

“How’s Nathalie?” Mattias asked quietly as they walked down the hallway.

“Nathalie? Dunno,” Dorian said. “I haven't noticed her since that day. Why? Do you miss her?”

“No,” Matthias rolled his eyes. “But we have a responsibility.”

“If she's dead, we’d know,” Cas promised coldly. “If she isn't, then she isn't our concern. I couldn't give two fucks about her after what she tried to pull. No one messes with Zephyr.”

Zephyr hid a smile at his words.

“Amen, brother,” Dorian agreed.

They hurried down to the Great Hall. They settled down at their usual table. Food already covered nearly every available space. Cas brightened up when he spotted a sausage and spinach pie. 

He eagerly pointed it out to Zephyr. She nodded distractedly, too focused on the empty plate before her.

She didn't want to eat. Zephyr pushed her plate away and set her forehead against the table, yawning.

“You good?” Cas asked her, nudging with his elbow.

“Yep. Sleepy, not hungry.”

“You should at least try to eat something.”

“Nah.”

“An apple. I’ll even cut it up for you,” Cas said, “here.”

She raised her head and watched him peel an apple with the knife before slicing it into bite-sized pieces, expertly taking off the core.

Zephyr stared at the fruit wordlessly.

“Please,” Cas added quietly.

She took a slice and nibbled at it. His eyes softened, relief crossing his face. Was he truly that worried about her health?

Dorian cleared his throat, “I wonder what Snape will teach us.”

“Probably something cool,” Matthias said. “And dangerous.”

“Do you think we’ll just be doing potions?” Cas asked, yawning.

“Probably,” Dorian said, rubbing his eyes. “Pass me the butter?”

Matthias, who was the closest to it, slid the tin container over to the blond. Dorian snagged a slice of bread and began spreading a generous amount of dairy on it.

“What's the point?” Matthias asked, his eyebrows inching upwards bit by bit as he watched Dorian add more butter, “like, what can a potion do against your parents?”

Cas shrugged, “how about we open a fake restaurant and get my parents to dine there? And then, poison the wine or something.”

“We need to hire several actors to act as patrons,” Dorian added as he took a bite of his toast. Melted butter dripped down his wrists and he wiped it off.

Zephyr indulged in the idiocy of the idea, “but we need several reviews so we’d have to open it for a while, so it doesn't seem suspicious.”

Mattias rolled his eyes, “that’ll work.”

“C’mon,” Zephyr said, glancing up at the teachers’ table. “Snape’s glaring. I’d rather not be poisoned.”

“Dorian will be the first to get poisoned,” Cas snorted as he got up. “He’ll eat anything.”

“Fuck off, I’m a growing boy,” Dorian shoved Cas. “I’ll be taller than you soon, you twig.”

“I’m not a twig. Matthias is.”

The twig scowled, “it’s genetics. Put the blame on my parents for literally everything.”

They chose to settle down in the common room, since it was empty as everyone was at their classes.

“So,” Cas stretched out on the sofa. “Where do we start?”

“Supplies,” Zephyr suggested. “Clothes, essentials, our brooms.”

“Oh, that's right, our brooms!” Dorian snapped his fingers. “I completely forgot about it.”

“I don't have a broom,” Matthias said, sulking. He reached into a packet of chocolate frogs.

The frog he chose began croaking in panic, its milk chocolate legs kicking the air frantically as the boy placed it into his mouth. Matthias bit down, taking its head clean off and the squeals fell silent, legs going slack.

“We got one each last year, before we met you,” Cas said, flipping open a fifth year potions textbook someone left on the table. “We haven't used it at all. Mine’s collecting dust under my bed.”

Dorian snorted, turning to Zephyr, “he chucks everything underneath his bed. You should tell him to clean up soon.”

“I’ll tidy it if we make it back alive,” Cas promised. “Okay, brooms–we’ll get you one, Matthias–, clothes, our wands, what else?”

“We should travel light,” Zephyr said, “in case we need to run and abandon everything. I rather we don't lose anything important.”

“Fair,” Matthias nodded, “and where do we go first?”

“No clue,” Cas said. “I’m sure we’ll be briefed before we go, so maybe we’ll have time to plan on the train.”

“I rather have more time to plan,” Zephyr said with a frown.

Matthias nodded, “I second that. Let me go talk to Professor Lupin to see if we can get more information.”

“We’ll be here when you get back,” Cas said as Matthias left the room.

Dorian sprawled onto Zephyr’s shoulder, “we should sleep or something.”

Cas raised an eyebrow and said, “you can sleep? I’m so nervous I’d actually spontaneously combust.”

“I mean, you are defeating your family for the second time,” Zephyr said.

“What a reunion,” Dorian grinned.

Cas groaned, “stop it, this is serious.”

“We know,” Dorian said. “But we have to make it funny so we aren't too stressed.”

“Being stressed keeps us alert,” Cas said, “and please get off Zephyr–you're crushing her.”

Dorian sat up, “thanks for being a good pillow.”

He patted her on the head. 

“No problem.”

Cas clapped his hands together, “okay, let's list some spells we’re allowed to use.”

“Bombarda Maxima,” Dorian said immediately, “because it’s fun. And any other spells we were taught at Hogwarts.”

“Good,” Cas said, scribbling down on a piece of parchment he found on the table. “So, like Wingadium Leviosa, Accio, Expelliarmus. Now, we take these spells, and throw them right out of the window. Incendio.”

They watched in stunned silence as the paper went up in a roar of flames. The charred remains fell to the floor, laying in a smoking mound of ash.

"That's a bit dramatic," Dorian cleared his throat.

“These ‘baby’ spells won't do shit against my parents. Remember, they’re better than me. They will kill you if you don't kill them first. Fuck our restrictions on more harmful spells–the most important thing is that we survive,” Cas said grimly. 

The door opened and Matthias stuck his head in, “got it.”

He waved a stack of parchment in the air and rejoined them at the table. He passed it to Cas, who began leafing through it.

“Who gave it to you?” Dorian asked.

Matthias sank down next to Zephyr and threw an arm over the back of the seat. “Dumbledore.”

“Did he say anything?” Cas asked, his eyebrows furrowed as he read.

“No, just good luck,” Matthias said, shrugging. “I assumed that everything we need to know is in there.”

Cas sighed and pulled out a piece, flattening it on the table. It was a map of southern Hogsmead, in the more forested area. On the map were several circles and crosses, along with red lines, probably indicating the path his parents took. The boy sorted through the stack once more and emerged with another map, this time of what she could only assume was Azkaban.

There was a red cross near the left wing of the small symbol of the prison (a little house-like drawing), a circle at the door and the same red line drawing towards the ocean. It was located in the North Sea. 

“Wasn't this place Unplottable?” Matthias asked.

“What's that?” Zephyr blinked.

“Er,” Matthias faltered, “like, there are charms in place so you can't place it’s location on a map nor can you see it.”

“Then, how is it on our map?”

“Maybe Dumbledore enchanted this thing so we can see it. At least we have the location,” Dorian said, “why look a gift horse in the mouth?”

“Fair point. So, I’ll assume they broke out and headed to the ocean, and continued towards Hogsmead,” Cas explained, his finger idly tracing the path.

Matthias leaned in, “yeah, anything else?”

Dorian grabbed the paper from Cas, “here’s the report. But it’s awfully ambiguous. Surely the Ministry should let us know the damage they've done to better prepare ourselves? Like, all we have is time stamps, that they incapacitated the guards, and then escaped. Like what does incapacitated even mean? Killed? Knocked out? Who knows!”

“At least we know romance isn't dead,” Matthias said with a grin. “Your dad went for your mom.”

“Ha-ha,” Cas monotoned. “Anyways, the lack of details is definitely annoying, but we’ll assume the worst. Better be pleasantly surprised than wrong.”

Zephyr found herself agreeing, “so, they killed the guards and left. But how? They couldn't have defeated so many Dementors.”

“They can, Zeph’,” Cas leveled a look at her. “They're deadly dangerous.”

“Okay. Fine, but still, don't you suspect they had outside help? If they could have bested the guards so easily, why escape now? Why not earlier?”

“Maybe a flaw or a lapse of judgment?” Dorian suggested, setting the stack down.

Matthias shook his head, “Dementors don't make mistakes. I agree with Zephyr, they definitely had outside help, but why now? How? And most importantly, who?”

“All of which,” Cas said with a sigh, “we don't have an answer to. We’ll be going in blind, armed with luck and the power of friendship. Don't give me that look, I’m just kidding about the latter.”

“I propose we start at Azkaban and work our way from there, tracing their steps,” Dorian said, pushing the paper back to Cas.

Cas’ eyebrows raised, “you know how difficult it is to find Azkaban.”

“Maybe this Sirius Black fellow helped break them out? Or maybe your parents were inspired by Sirius,” Matthias suggested.

Cas nodded. “All good theories, but we need solid facts before we proceed. How do we get to the North Sea?”

Dorian and Matthias shrugged helplessly.

Matthias added, unhelpfully, “maybe we go North until we find the ocean?”

“Wow, that is such a foolproof plan, Arnoux, thank you,” Cas groaned. “We’re fucked.”

Zephyr stood, awkwardly navigating the small space between the couch and the table to stumble towards the stairs. “I may have some books. Hold on.”

She disappeared into her room. Scanning the shelves, she trailed her finger across the dusty spines of textbooks she never used before.

Surely she had a map somewhere, right?

Zephyr eventually stumbled upon a tiny black book, named ‘The Wonders Of The Wizarding World and Where To Find Them’. She flipped it open and let out a victorious breath when she found what she was looking for.

She brought it back with her to her friends in the Common Room. Setting it down, she sat next to Cas this time, wanting to find comfort in him. Truthfully, she was terrified. Maybe they would all die, or worse, Cas would. She couldn't live without him.

Cas offered her a side hug and kept his arm around her, “what do ya’ have there?”

“Some dusty old tourist map but it has the North Sea in it.”

Cas nodded appraisingly, “well done. So, Northwestern Europe. Near the Atlantic Ocean. Good, we have a place to start.”

“Why don't we go straight to Hogsmead?” Matthias asked.

“I want to understand their abilities before we dive right in,” Cas explained. “Have they gotten stronger? Weaker? More desperate? Azkaban definitely changed them, and I want to know how. I want to know just how dangerous they are first before we make our next moves. And, maybe, we’ll know who helped them. They could not have escaped by themselves.”

“Maybe Voldemort helped them? What if we’re walking into something bigger than ourselves?” Zephyr hated how meek she sounded.

Cas squeezed her lightly, “we are already navigating something we aren't equipped to handle. We just need to get the upper hand first.”

Zephyr met his eyes. She could see the fear in them, but also the determination. She nodded. She trusted Cas wherever he led them.

Chapter 33: 3.7

Summary:

happy 100k words guys

That night, they prepared themselves silently. Wands were polished, brooms were checked, suitcases were sorted through. They all donned muggle clothes, rather not representing Hogwarts as they traveled.

The four of them stood outside the castle, quietly staring at the stone walls for what was perhaps their last time.

Dumbledore, Professor Lupin and Professor McGonagall were there to see them off. 

“My children,” Dumbledore said sadly. “I never wished this burden was placed upon such young shoulders.”

Zephyr felt a flash of irritation well up in her. Why did the old man express such regret when he never even talked to them prior to this? Where was the most powerful wizard of their generation when they needed the help?

Cas, also sharing the same thoughts, scoffed lightly and turned away, “not like we have a choice now.”

Dorian elbowed him, “play nice.”

“I am being nice,” Cas said, rolling his eyes.

Matthias stepped forward, glaring at the three of them. “Sorry, Professor, he’s stressed. We all are. It’s not going to be an easy journey and we wished we had more time to prepare.”

McGonagall’s eyes softened, “this isn't right. I know it isn't. You should be studying, not fighting for the Ministry. I have voiced my disapproval many times but to no avail. They are convinced you four are their only hope.”

Only hope. Zephyr wanted to laugh. A bunch of thirteen year olds were the Ministry’s only hope? What type of Government was that?

Professor Lupin, seeing the mounting tension, intervened, “what they’re saying is that they did their best to convince the Ministry otherwise.”

“But we’re still going,” Cas concluded bitterly. “And all you provided is money and a stack of paper. We don't need money. C’mon, before it gets any darker.”

The four of them began down the path towards Hogsmeade, where they would Aparate from. She could feel the teachers’ eyes bore into their backs.

Just before they were out of earshot, Cas turned, his tone darker than she’d ever heard, “just know, if my friends die, I will never forgive any of you.”

His threat hung in the air, crackling with tension. The night was silent, like the whole world was holding its breath. 

Zephyr hesitantly reached for Cas’ hand, wanting to provide him some level of support. He tensed for a second and then his fingers laced with hers.

They continued on through the night, navigating the winding pathway wordlessly. None of them were in a jovial mood.

Finally, after a grueling fifteen minutes of lugging their stuff, they reached the edge of the little village. The houses and shops were all dark, showing how everyone had retired for the night. They had the luxury of remaining unseen.

Solemnly, they regarded each other.

“See you guys at the ocean,” Dorian said. “Please don't die before we even begin.”

“We won't,” Cas promised and then, with a loud crackle of magic, he was gone. They decided that he could neutralise any threats if he went first.

Matthias Disapparated next, the sound of thunder echoing through the streets. Dorian smiled at her, Zephyr’s nervousness on full display.

“Go on,” he said.

Zephyr raised her wand, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, and whispered, “Apparate.”

She was sucked into the void, her entire body being forced through a tunnel of wind. Zephyr forced herself to remain calm and focused hard on her destination. 

She felt no immediate searing pain, which was a positive sign she didn’t split her body into two or more pieces.

Finally, she was unceremoniously thrown out into the world once more.

“Zeph’, are you okay?” Cas’ worried voice reached her ears.

Oh, thank Merlin–she succeeded.

Hands helped her up and she leaned her weight on Cas, breathing heavily. “Fuck."

She felt him press a soft kiss to her hair. Now, she took in her surroundings. They were standing on a beach, the ocean dark and menacing, strong waves crashing on the shore. Wind blew, carrying the scent of an incoming storm. Dorian was kneeling in the sand, his trembling arms supporting his weight.

Matthias, who seemed to have over-committed, was wading back to shore, water dripping off him. He shook his head, spraying droplets everywhere, scowling hard.

“Dorian?” Cas called out, not leaving her side. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Dorian straightened up, coughing. “Damn.”

“I’m great, thanks for asking,” Matthias made his way to them.

Cas casted a quick drying charm on him, and then a warming one on everyone. They huddled together to catch their breaths.

“Okay,” Cas said, pulling away from Zephyr. “We’ve completed our first task. Our next task is going to be even harder. How are we to navigate the ocean and with what?”

“There’s no boats here,” Dorian agreed, glancing around.

Matthias’ eyes brightened, “I have an idea.”

They followed his gaze and let out unanimous groans. There was a small surfboard shop nearby, tucked beneath palm trees. 

“If you guys have any other suggestions, I’m all ears,” Matthias said.

"You're already all ears." Dorian rubbed a wary hand down his face, “has any of us even surfed before?”

Matthias' hand flew up to touch his ears. "Excuse you?"

Zephyr subconsciously glanced at Cas, who frowned at her and said, “I may be talented in many areas, but I have not conquered surfing.”

“You’re American!” Matthias protested. “All you do is go to the beach and ride the waves, yo.”

The three of them gaped at Matthias, whose face began to burn.

“Shut up,” he muttered. “Don't ever bring that up again.”

“Yo?” Cas repeated slowly. “I have never said the word ‘yo’ in my life. And, just so you can have a better grasp on geography, I was born in Montana, a state very far from the ocean. You’re just stereotyping me.”

“Now that this lovely conversation is over,” Dorian interrupted, “shall we begin our treacherous journey across the icy water, mate?”

His overly exaggerated accent made Matthias blush even harder and aim a kick at the blond, who skilfully dodged his half-hearted attack.

The ginger boy huffed and headed for the shop, ignoring the three of them behind him. They followed, all wearing identical grins at his annoyance.

“Alohomora,” Zephyr muttered, wand tapping the padlock that chained the door shut.

It fell to the sand with a heavy clunk, and Cas pushed open the door. Inside the dark storage room, surfboards lined the walls, held up by floating shelves. There were many different sizes and designs, none of which she could truly make out.

“Lumos,” Dorian said, stepping into the store.

The three boys, having grown up in extravagance, were incredibly unimpressed by the selection. Zephyr, however, ran her fingers across the smooth plastic, tracing the outline of an iridescent tuna jumping from the water, sunlight sparkling on the waves.

“Do you like it?” Cas asked her, approaching from behind.

His scent washed over her–a mixture of cedar, whisky and his powerful magic, making her nose twitch. 

Zephyr hummed in reply, glancing at his bemused expression. He helped her lift it from the stand and held it for her, despite her protests that she could do it herself.

Cas had already picked his own board. It was made of a pure green, with silver lightning streaking through it, showing his love for the Snake House. It was beautiful in a brutal way, a perfect description of the boy himself.

He smiled down at her, balancing both surfboards against his side. In the low glow of his wand, Zephyr felt her cheeks heat at his gaze. The last time they were in the dark together, he had proclaimed his loyalty to her, and his words had never left her mind.

Zephyr was struck with an overwhelming awareness of just how warm she felt, standing with Casspian, her Casspian. 

She had always felt more comfortable with him. Despite her fondness for Dorian and, slowly, Matthias, they never quite made her feel as content as Cas did. 

He curled an eyebrow upwards, teasingly, and she scowled, the moment ruined by her embarrassment. She elbowed him sharply, making his choke on his next breath.

“Ow!” Cas whined, rubbing his ribs with his free hand. “That was mean.”

Zephyr could no longer stand the electrifying something in the air that crackled between them. It wasn't unpleasant by any means, but just weird. She wasn't sure what it was, what the pounding of her heart meant, and she did not have the luxury to find out, not right now.

There was too much at stake, too many risks to indulge in caring about herself. Zephyr briefly wondered how it would have played out if they were back at school, hidden in the corner of the darkened library. What would have happened then? If they had nothing to worry about, no one to save, what would have happened between them?

Maybe, he would have leaned down, his face nearing hers, his warm breath washing over her lips, his usually stoic eyes lit up with embers, meeting her unsure ones. Maybe he’d grasp her hand, or even her waist, and draw her to him, his lips—

Zephyr shook her head, shame flooding her. He was her best friend, for Merlin’s sake! She could not fantasise about him like that. Besides, Cas and her? Cas had not so much as spared a glance at another witch in the two years of friendship they had. Zephyr always presumed he was just uninterested in romance.

So why, God, why was she suddenly buzzing with the need to have him solely as hers?

Zephyr could not imagine him being romantically interested with anyone at all. He had no filter, no restraint and an abundance of ruthlessness. He treated everyone outside their friend group with such disdain that many avoided him. Not to mention, with his reputation and his actions that backed up his cruelty at times, he was treated with caution.

Even Dorian and Matthias were not spared at times, if they ever stepped wrongly. Her mind flashed back to the start of the school year, when Matthias sided with Nathalie. Despite being absolutely shattered, Zephyr saw the way Cas’ eyes darkened with fury, hatred filling every inch of his tense form. She knew, deep down, that her cries were the only thing stopping him from doing something much worse to the boy.

However, Zephyr didn't have an explanation on why she had always been spared from his anger. At most, he’d be frustrated with her, but never angry. He never yelled, never said harsh things. Cas never treated her less than royalty.

What was so special about her? She wasn't the smartest, by any means. She wasn't exactly gorgeous, even though Cas didn't care much for looks.

“Staring into space?” Dorian’s drawl pulled her from her thoughts.

Zephyr flinched, “sorry. Lost in thought.”

“C’mon, we don't have time to waste,” Cas said, already out the door.

Zephyr hurried out after her friends, filing away her confusion to examine later, when she had the time.

Matthias stood in the water, his pants folded up to his knees, making him look ridiculous. His surfboard floated between his legs, the water lapping at it.

Cas stripped off his robes and tossed it into his bag, which he shrunk with a charm, and placed it into his pockets for safekeeping.

He sat crossed legged on the board, his form steady as he slipped out his wand.

“I have an idea,” he said, his gray eyes thoughtful. “Locomotor.”

His surfboard began moving forward, his magic controlling the direction of its motion. He did a little circle with his wand and to their delight, the board followed the action smoothly.

“Okay, at least we don't have to swim,” Cas said with a grin.

Zephyr copied his stance, and glanced at him for directions. She had not used this spell before, and she knew she needed a quick lesson before it worked.

“By right,” Cas explained to them, the sound of waves forcing him to raise his voice, “we will technically be levitating, because this charm makes the object casted on float. However, we do need an object to maneuver, so that's why I casted this on a surfboard. There's no movement necessary, just cast the incarnation. Remember, spells without motive are just words and wands without motives are just sticks.”

“Locomotor,” she murmured, forcing the inanimate plastic below her to bend to her will. It shuddered and then, her wand linked with it.

Zephyr grinned victoriously. Cas smiled back and moved his board beside her.

“Good job, Firefly,” he said softly, his praise making her heart flutter. “Perfect, as usual.”

Dorian was the next to succeed and he began drifting into the ocean, his posture serene. He seemed to like being on the sea.

Matthias also got the hang of it, and soon enough, the four of them began their journey across the black water.

“Imagine what is beneath us,” she said to Cas with a shudder.

They didn't leave each other’s side since their departure, always seeking company in each other.

He sent her an amused look, “like what? A shark?”

“Like magical creatures,” she rolled her eyes. “What if something is drawn to us and attacks us? Surely there are secondary defenses in the water to stop meddling people from visiting the prison.”

“You know you don't have to be worried when I’m here,” he said softly.

Zephyr held his gaze for a moment, seeking out the determined glint in his eyes. He was confident he could protect her from all harm. 

But he did not stop Lockhart.

She shoved away the little vicious voice in her head. Cas did get revenge for her in the end. Even if everything happened before he could prevent it. However, Zephyr knew she was to blame. She kept quiet about what Lockhart was doing to her. 

Zephyr had been too scared to say anything, to disappoint her best friend by her cowardice. 

Cas saw the turmoil in her eyes and pursed his lips, sighing. Despite how desperately Zephyr tried to hide how broken the encounter had left her, Cas could see through her.

“How do we know we’re going north?” Dorian’s yell drew them back to the task at hand.

Cas raised his wand, his previous spell broken. “Point Me.”

His magic was always intoxicating. It was rich and overwhelmingly sweet, somehow. His wand spun, and then fixed on their left.

“There,” Cas called back. “Locomotor.”

They continued in the correct direction this time. 

Zephyr had the luxury to delve into her thoughts and feelings for the silent boy beside her. She casted a look at him quickly.

She tried to imagine him in the arms of another witch and felt disgusted at the thought. No one else deserved his loyalty. 

But, what if he did fall for someone one day? 

Would Zephyr be able to share, no, give up her best friend completely? Even though they promised to be by each other’s side forever, it was just words, not a binding spell or anything. There was nothing stopping him from leaving her.

“Cas,” she said, before her mind caught up with her words.

Instantly, she regretted speaking as his curious eyes landed on her.

“Yeah?”

“I—” Zephyr bit the inside of her cheek. “Nevermind.”

“C’mon, say it. Something is obviously weighing on you. Let me help relieve that burden,” he said, drifting closer to her with an expert swish of his wand.

They floated side-by-side. She could have reached across to grab his hand. She didn't.

She sighed, “it’s stupid. Just insecure.”

“Nothing is stupid if it's from you.”

“I’m scared that you—” her nerves ate at her. His face was opening, gently prodding her to spill her thoughts. “That you’ll leave me.”

“I promised I wouldn't already, remember?” Cas said, chuckling.

“But it's just words. What if someday, someone more interesting comes along? Will you abandon me?” She whispered.

Cas tilted his head, body relaxed. He seemed incredibly calm, despite the situation presented to them. It was like he was taking a nice boat ride instead of them visiting a prison.

“Never,” he promised once again. “No one else is worthy of my time.”

“But it’s just words.”

Zephyr could see the moment he was struck by an idea. His eyes brightened, cogs in his mind whirling.

“I’ll make a better promise later, okay?” He said, winking.

Zephyr, simultaneously at ease and wary by his grin, nodded.

She was about to speak when her board began to violently shake. Zephyr’s eyes widened in fear as webbed hands grabbed her ankle and in a flash, she was dragged into the icy water before anyone could react.

Her wand flew from her hand, sinking into the darkness below, effectively leaving her helpless. Thankfully, she had instinctively held her breath as she went under.

The grip on her was painful, claws digging into her skin hard enough to break through. She felt her leg sting as saltwater mixed with her wound.

Zephyr forced herself to glance at her assailant, despite how her eyes burned in the water. It was a merman of some sort, an insanely ugly one at that.

He had gills beneath his scaled arms, his hair seaweed-like. Moss covered his body, dyeing him green. He grinned at her, baring razor-sharp teeth that would absolutely tear her apart in seconds. His eyes glowed yellow, like little lanterns in the night, guiding her away from safety.

The panic that coursed through her veins made her air run faster, and she felt her throat closing up. Her lungs burned in her chest as the merman dragged her deeper into the waters.

She needed her wand. She couldn't last like this. Her vision was already tainted black at the edges, telltale signs she was losing consciousness.

Zephyr steeled herself and casted her first wandless and wordless incantation in so long.

Stupefy!

A flash of red cut through the darkness of the ocean and at once, the grip on her was gone as the creature dodged her attack.

Her magic stuttered as the last of her oxygen ran out. The merman swam to her like a shark, pulling her towards him. His claws raked at her clothes and, to her horror, tore at her pants.

For fucks sake, not again.

Mermans, she knew, were sexual creatures, often stealing women who ventured too close to rape and release.

First Lockart, now a fucking sea person? Absolutely not. She refused to be reduced once again into an object of desire. Zephyr did not want to be broken any further.

She knew she had one last chance to survive, one last chance before she blacked out.

Stupefy!

This time, her hex hit her mark. The merperson was hurled far away, pain contorting his features. His scales were blackened, his blood spreading in the water.

Another blast came from behind her, causing the merman to go slack and drift downwards. Arms wrapped around her and she was pulled to the surface.

She gulped in fresh air greedily, her throat burning as she began to cough. She knew it was Cas who had saved her, just from his body structure. He kept them afloat as she struggled to calm her aching lungs.

She twisted to face him, faltering at the down-right murderous expression on his face. His jaw was clenched, the muscle ticking beneath his skin. She could tell he wanted to go back to finish the fucker off, but his concern over her had won over.

“Are you injured?” He asked feverishly.

“My ankle,” she said, leaning into him. 

Cas tightened his grip and she felt him bury his face into her hair. 

“It was a merman, I think. He had claws and I think they punctured my leg. It hurts.”

She knew she sounded like a baby, but her energy was spent and all she wanted was his comfort. 

“My wand,” she said, desperation filling her. “I lost my—”

“Accio Zephyr’s Wand,” Cas said lazily.

Shooting out from the sea, her wand was summoned into his hands. He handed it back to her and she clutched it tightly, her breathing coming easier.

“C’mon, let's get you back up,” he began hauling her towards his board. He hoisted her up onto the plastic and she shuddered as the wind tore at her.

It was freezing.

Matthias and Dorian reached them, both wearing identical looks of worry. 

“What happened?” Dorian demanded. “You were there and then just gone!”

“Merman wanted to fuck me,” Zephyr couldn't be bothered to censor the truth.

Cas’ eyes darkened even further. His rage sent pulses of magic through the air, filling it with electricity and the intent to harm everyone.

“Fucking piece of shit,” he snarled as he raised himself from the water to settle beside her.

Zephyr leaned against him and he wrapped an arm around her waist.

“Let me see,” Cas gestured to her leg.

She brought it up and winced at the deep marks that now scarred her ankle. Blood leaked from the four punctures, dripping into the ocean.

“Episkey,” he murmured as he hovered his wand over her wound.

Slowly, the skin began to knit together and the throbbing subsided.

Zephyr sighed in relief, sagging into him.

“You’re okay,” he said softly. “You're safe now.”

Cas was now on full alert, having underestimated the danger the travel entailed. She saw the self-hatred in his eyes for failing to prevent another attack on her.

Without thinking, she leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He shuddered and glanced down at her.

“It's not your fault,” she said firmly.

The other two boys had departed from their side, both knowing that they needed some alone time together to recover.

Cas shook his head, “if I paid more attention…”

Maybe the day was just too much for her sanity, maybe Zephyr had finally hit her wits’ end, but she wanted him to shut up about failing to protect her. He did come to save her. He did save her.

He needed to stop punishing himself. Zephyr knew if she didn't address this now, he would have withdrawn from her and it was something she did not need.

More now than ever, she needed his friendship. So, with newfound courage, Zephyr turned his head to her and pressed a firm kiss to his cold lips.

He froze and she withdrew, regret and sorrow flaring in her. She had been mistaken. Cas really wasn't interested in her in that way. They were just friends, nothing more—

Cas’ mouth found hers again. This time, the kiss was rough, desperate, like he was trying to prove that she was real.

Her chest filled with warmth as his lips moved against her own, his hand gripping hers. They parted from each other, both breathing heavily.

Zephyr was tingling. Every part of her was on fire. 

“Zeph’,” he said softly. “Don't do that.”

Water lapped against their board, filling the tense silence between them.

“Why?” She asked, her heart dropping into her stomach. Did he…regret it?

“Because,” his breathing was labored as he traced her bottom lip with his thumb. “I won't be able to stop the next time.”

Zephyr’s face heated. Oh.

“Let's go, before we do something that we need more time to do.”

“Wha—?”

Their board suddenly gained speed and she grabbed onto him, her train of thought effectively derailed.

 

Chapter 34: 3.8

This was it. Azkaban. 

Zephyr and her boys gazed silently up at the large castle upon a mountainous cliff. She could hear the screams from within, feel the anguish and pain that radiated from the place.

It looked like, well, a prison. It was a dark fortress resting upon the island, waves crashing into it. Somehow, Cas and her remained steady in the raging ocean. He had probably cast some spell to prevent them from being washed under once more.

“Did they jump from the island?” Dorian asked.

“Probably, unless there was outside help.”

“If they navigated from here to Hogsmead, they definitely had outside help. It took us six hours to reach here.” Matthias reasoned.

Cas nodded, “I agree. I’m not sure if my parents were adept swimmers, but they definitely could not have swam across such turbulent waters.”

“Now what?”

“We need to figure out who helped them,” Cas said firmly. “We need to know just how influential they are. If they have people in the ministry, we can't just hurl curses at them. I want to know who disapproved of our mission, and find out why.”

“Maybe they’re just sane enough to realise we’re children.” Zephyr suggested, bitterness filling her tone.

In no world was it okay to send them on a manhunt, regardless if they could handle it or not. For hell’s sake, they were supposed to be in school, not navigating the sea.

Cas squeezed her hand to draw her out of her mind. 

Zephyr, thankful for his touch, straightened up. No more mopping, she needed to be helpful. Her body was aching from her underwater scruffle, from holding up her magic to guide her surfboard, from thousands of little things. She was genuinely shocked that the Dementors guarding the place were not drawn straight to her.

“Let's Apparate to Hogsmead,” she told them. “I don't feel like surfing back.”

“Sure, good idea,” Matthias closed his eyes and then, with a crack of thunder, was gone. His surfboard floated away, swept by the waves, and was smashed into smithereens against the walls of the island.

Dorian grimly watched it and with an acknowledging nod to them, he Apparated as well.

Cas glanced at her, “c’mon. It’s cold and I want to sleep.”

She agreed and raised her wand, her arms trembling with exhaustion, and casted the spell.

---

They retired for the night in the Leaky Cauldron, renting two rooms. Dorian and Matthiss bid them goodnight and raced for the shower, much to their amusement.

As soon as Zephyr closed the door behind her, she watched, eyebrows raised, as Cas began to pace.

“This is a wild goose chase,” he began. “We need more information!”

Zephyr sank into the bed, sighing with relief. The cool sheets enveloped her arms, and she stared at the white ceiling.

“How?” She asked. “We have no connections that aren't in jail.”

“We could, you know, send me to jail. Or just in custody,” Cas added quickly after Zephyr levelled a scalding glare at him. “So I can get close to my lesser-murderous relatives to figure out if my parents had help or it was a coup or whatever.”

Cas took a deep breath and gave her a sweet smile, blinking innocently at her. Zephyr felt like slapping him and she clenched her fists to stop herself from pummelling her idiotic best friend.

“That is a horrible idea,” she said slowly, “but it is our only idea.”

The boy gasped at her.

Zephyr rolled her eyes, wishing she could change the fate of their lives so that Cas didn't need to sacrifice himself to save them. She wished she could turn back time so that Cas was adopted by a loving family before he even had the chance to experience the Blackthorn Murdering Tradition.

Where was any adult during all of it? Did the Ministry and whatever the magical equivalent to the Child Social Services really just give up on every generation of Blackthorns because the previous fucked up? 

Zephyr imagined a world where Cas never needed to learn every spell in the world because he didn't need to be able to defend himself in every situation. She imagined a world where Casspian, Dorian and Matthias were just innocent third year students, moaning over homework and actually having proper childhoods. They probably wouldn't have been friends under those circumstances.

Rage flared up in her belly, curling lazily through her body, a fire that had been simmering for so goddamn long. Were the adults so utterly useless?

“If it works, it works,” she said, “if we plan this properly, cover every bad scenario, we may have a lead, which is better than our wild goose chase.”

Cas sat down on the chair across from her, idly spinning his wand between his fingers. “How can I get arrested? And how can we ensure I’ll be pardoned before I get the Kiss?”

For a moment, her mind flashed back to their journey. Her hands in his hair, her lips tingling, her heart pounding heavily between her ribs. “Like, the Dementor’s Kiss?”

“Yeah, that one.” Cas nodded, adorably oblivious to her panic.

“Well,” Zephyr said slowly, “I have no clue. It now sounds like a worse plan.”

“We can ask the ministry to put me in custody for whatever reason they want, because we still do have immunity. I can request to be placed with my cousin and I can dig for information.”

Zephyr closed her eyes briefly. It was a solid plan with a perfectly good escape route. She’d make sure he had a guard to protect him in case anything went south. 

“But you won't have your wand,” she protested.

“I can do wandless magic pretty well, Zeph’.”

“Dorian and Matthias will hate this,” she warned.

He laughed, shaking his head, “I know. But do you?”

“Not completely.”

“Then, it's good enough for me.”

Warmth spread through her body as she ducked her head. “About just now…”

Their kiss. His words. 

Cas’ face flushed and he cleared his throat, his eyes searching the ceiling for something, “yeah.”

“What…” Zephyr’s airways felt awfully tight. What are we? She wanted to ask, but couldn't muster the courage to.

“Because it felt right,” Cas said simply. “Because you're you. And I’m yours.”

“And I’m yours, too?”

“No, you're your own. I’m yours, until you are ready to be mine.”

Zephyr blinked at her best friend, confused.

He let out a breath, “we have a lot to deal with, Zeph’. I don't want you to rush into anything with me without thinking it through. I know I care about you more than I’ve ever cared about anyone. But I’m…” He seemed to struggle for words, “I’m me. I attract death and darkness and pain. You're a Firefly, full of light and love. I’ll protect you, but I can't protect your innocence.”

Zephyr never felt a stronger urge to hit his head. She also never felt more fond of Casspian. 

“You don't have to protect that,” she whispered, standing up. His eyes watched her cross the room to stand before him, his throat bobbing. “I know what being friends with you entails. None of it is your fault. But, I’m still here. I’ll always be here.”

“What if you get hurt again? What if…something worse happens? What if you aren't here anymore?” Cas’ eyes were filled with desperation and helplessness.

Zephyr ignored the fear that tingled in her spine. “I won't die.”

“You don't know that! I don't know that,” he exclaimed, shoulders slumping. “Look at me. I’m the damned son of Blackthorns. My family is a bedtime story for Wizarding families across the world, warning children not to be like me. But I’m still not strong enough to protect you from my parents.”

“Cas, you don't have to protect me,” she promised softly, unable to stop herself from touching his cheek. His hand shot out to press her palm firmly to his skin as he shuddered. “You're a kid. I’m a kid. We can't do something impossible. What we can do is survive and try our best.”

“I can do that.” His eyes slipped close. “I can.”

“Then that's good enough,” Zephyr promised gently.

The tension left Cas’ body and a part of Zephyr, the part where all her hatred and anger was stored, reared its ugly head. She was going to punish those who made Cas feel responsible for everyone’s lives. She was going to get him justice. He deserved to be a kid and worry about childish things, not about if he could save his friends.

“Close your eyes, Cas.”

---

“You want to go to prison.” Dorian’s tone was flat. 

Zephyr knew he was pissed off at the idea. His blue eyes were sparkling with rage and the muscles in his jaw ticked.

Matthias, in contrast, looked utterly baffled, “if you wanted to go to jail so badly, you could have done so years ago.”

Cas groaned, leaning back in his chair. They sat in the Three Broomsticks, sipping on Butterbeers. It was pretty empty, since school was in full swing and it was the middle of the day.

“I don't want to go to prison,” Cas scowled. “I just want information. It’s the best way.”

“It's a shite way,” Dorian shot back. “You could get killed. Merlin’s balls, knowing you, you will get killed. Every Pureblood supremacist is out for you for betraying your family. You’re practically offering yourself as bait.”

“Doesn't matter,” Cas said, his voice rising. She knew he was getting pissed off. “I’m the best chance!”

“Why would your family willingly give up information to you?” Matthias asked and then shrunk back as Cas’ withering glare landed on him. “No offence. Just, like, surely they are wary of your intentions after you tossed them in prison.”

“I could glamour as my cousin or someone else,” Cas said. “A few evaded capture.”

“Magic won't work there,” Dorian snarled. “We don't need you to kill yourself for us. We can find another way.”

“Or I could go,” Zephyr suggested quietly.

Their heads whipped to stare at her, and she flinched when their anger hit her at full force.

“Absolutely not—” Cas snapped.

“Are you crazy?” Yelled Dorian.

“That is a horrible idea—” Matthias said.

She held up a hand and gave them her strictest look. They fell silent.

“Look, no one in prison would recognise me,” she said, feeling so incredibly tired. “I’m not famous nor do I come from a famous family. Cas is right, we don't have any other plans. I’m your best bet. All three of you will be recognised the second you step into jail.”

Her boys didn't speak for several minutes. Zephyr could see the mental struggle they were going through–their logical sides battling against their care for her.

Desperation filled Cas’ eyes and he grabbed her hands tightly, “you don't have to. It's dangerous. We can figure something out.”

“Can we?” Matthias whispered and Cas’ body seemed to deflate, all hope leaving him.

Dorian nodded slowly, his own hands shaking. “I hate this. I hate them. I hate everyone.”

“I know,” she replied, and just like that, they began planning on what she would say when she was taken into custody.

Chapter 35: 3.9

Zephyr wasn't sure whether she was going to piss her pants, start crying, throw up, or do all three in that order.

It was like she was going into the worst exam of her life as she was marched down the hallway of Merlin’s Keepers, a less-strict prison for British criminal wizards that committed less serious crimes. It was a couple days after their initial discussion, after rigorous planning.

The punishments here were being locked up and to clean. It was more of a rehabilitation center, to be honest. The prisoners were silent as they watched Zephyr get escorted by a guard past rows of cells.

The moment she entered, her wand was taken and a bracelet was slapped upon her wrist, so she had absolutely no access to any sort of magic. The black tracksuit they gave her itched, rough cotton scratching against her skin whenever she moved.

The room was filled with despondence, weighing heavily down on her, and Zephyr wanted to scream, to run, to be next to Casspian, but she kept her head low and forced herself to breathe.

She had exactly forty-eight hours to get any information she could, whilst her boys hunted for more leads.

Zephyr had to keep her cool, no matter how many rats scuttled between the cells and ignore the water dripping from the stone ceiling, and the horrible stench of body odour, and the mold that covered the walls and the—

She shook her head. Focus.

Her cell was maybe four by four meters, the ceiling less than three. There were stone walls on the sides, which Zephyr counted as a small blessing because she would honestly go crazy if her neighbours could stare at her.

Of course, she was still in full view of the people across from her–a bald woman missing her front teeth and a red goblin with glowing amber eyes. They stared at her and she met their gazes defiantly. Zephyr refused to back down, not here. Any show of fear on her part will sign her death warrant.

They looked away and resumed a hushed conversation. She sagged against the slimy walls, breathing hard. Dear Lord, what was she doing in prison?

“You're awfully young,” said her cellmate.

Zephyr turned to face the woman. She was probably a couple years her senior, but aging was a complicated process in the wizarding world, so who knew how old she was?

She had curly brown hair and grey eyes, skin as pale as snow and as pure as marble. Soot streaked across her skin, the red scars that riddled her body standing out.

“So are you,” Zephyr muttered.

The woman, Astria Triburt, was a distant twice-removed cousin to Cas. He didn't even know who she was. Dorian had been the one who had found out the information.

Astria tilted her head, eyes gleaming with intrigue, “do you know me, witchling?”

“Nah,” Zephyr sat on the bed made of a cold, metal slab. She was uncomfortably reminded of a mortuary. “You look young.”

“Perhaps. I’ve been here for a long time, and I am unsure of my current age,” the woman said faintly. “Time is non-existent here. Tell me, what did a young witch like you do?”

Zephyr had rehearsed her story so many times she would have probably muttered it in her sleep. Matthias had even planted a fake memory into her head using his Legilimency, just in case.

“I stole books from Flourish and Botts during my trip to Hogsmead,” Zephyr’s voice was filled with regret and she scowled at the ground.

“Trivial reason to send you away,” Astria said nonchalantly, but there was a hint of suspicion.

“It was a book about the Dark Arts,” Zephyr shifted her weight uneasily. “Hogwarts didn't have any that could be freely accessed and…I was curious.”

“Slytherin?”

“Huh?”

The woman shook her head, the tension leaving her body. “Are you in Slytherin?”

“Ravenclaw, actually, but the Hat had trouble deciding between Slytherin and Ravenclaw.”

“A thirst for knowledge but without the cunningness to achieve it,” Astria shook her head. “Ravenclaws are failed Slytherins.”

Zephyr’s head shot up, “excuse me? I believe Ravenclaws are Ravenclaws, not failed Slytherins! Ravenclaws are set apart from Slytherins because we do not manipulate others for the information we seek. We put in the hard work, researching pages after pages for hours.”

She had to force herself to say we instead of they. She was a Ravenclaw, in this little story of hers.

“Your loyalty to your house is admirable, but here, there is no house,” Astria sniffed, seemingly disgusted by her outburst. “There is only freedom and the lack of it.”

Zephyr shrugged, “I probably won’t be here long. I mean, it’s just a book.”

Astria giggled softly, bitterly, “it was a book on the Dark Arts. Don't you know? The Wizarding world is terrified of anyone who displays even the slightest interest in it. You will be here for a long, long time.”

Fear shot through Zephyr. What would happen to Cas if he ever ended up in prison? If he hadn't recieved diplomatic immunity, would he have been in Azkaban?

“Can't be that bad. At least it isn't Azkaban.”

The woman let out a full laugh this time. “You know what's the beauty of Azkaban? They are closely monitored by the Ministry. We are not, and the people who guard this shit-hole can get away with anything. We may be less ‘evil’ than those who are in Azkaban, but we are still not Light. And we are scum to them, little raven.”

Zephyr froze, her mind going blank. She was promised that she would get out, but they never promised her safety within the walls of the prison.

“What will they do?”

“Things that should sentence them to Azkaban–rape, torture, blackmail. Some nights, the guards pit us against each other for entertainment. Winner gets food, the loser starves.”

Zephyr had gone deathly cold at the world rape. Everywhere she went, there were evil, horrid men. Why was the magical world so barbaric? Why were they all free to run around stealing women’s innocence?

Where was justice and laws and retribution for witches? What the hell was this?

“What can I do to protect myself?” She asked quietly, hands shaking.

She wanted Casspian. Lord, she needed Casspian, like how a child needed her mother.

The woman’s eyes softened and she moved closer to her. “You give up. They will lose interest in someone who doesn't fight back. It’s the hardest lesson I had to learn.”

Zephyr tried to take a deep breath and found she couldn't. Panic had seized her throat, invisible hands strangling her. She was under Lockhart’s heavy body, she was being dragged underwater.

Not again.

“You’ll certainly be targeted tonight. New prisoners are always given a warm welcome. Just close your eyes and pretend you're somewhere far away.”

“How can we escape?” Zephyr blurted out, her vision blurry with tears. “I’m too young—it was a fucking book, for Rowena’s sake.”

Tell me it is impossible, Zephyr had a mission. Even if she was defiled and marked, she had to get the information she needed first. She had been carefully constructing her imagine of a prideful Ravenclaw, even using their founder’s name when possible. She was being so meticulous that Zephyr knew Cas would have been proud.

Cas would have burned the prison to the ground when he knew she could be raped again. Cas would have killed everyone here.

“It’s not possible. Hundreds tried. We all failed.”

“But…” Zephyr trailed off. “People escaped from Azkaban. If they can, how hard is it running from here?”

Astria huffed, amusement colouring her beautiful features, “they have help, we do not.”

“How?” Zephyr gripped the metal beneath her, desperation filling her tone. “I can't fucking stay here!”

“Shh!” Astria glanced up, eyes wide. “Not too loud, witchling. The guards will come. You need to watch out for Maldez. He’s the worst of them.”

“How? How did they get help? Maybe, if I can get a letter out, or—”

“They got help because they are influential,” Astria said with a sad smile. “I assume you speak of the Blackthorns?”

“Also Sirius Black.”

“Ah, yes, the oddity of the Noble house of Black. They all have people who want them out. They are all powerful and have many secrets that others need to learn. We are nothing.”

“Do…” Zephyr faltered, purposely forcing a nervous expression. “Do you know who helped?”

“Black, I do not know. The Blackthorns had help from a Necromancer who needed their expertise on a certain Dark Art Ritual.”

“How do you know this?” How can I be sure your words are true?

“I’m a distant relative of the Blackthorns—” Zephyr faked a flinch backwards, “—and I’ve been warned of the Necromancer for years. We do not know his name, but we are told to run when we smell the stench of death.”

“What's a Necromancer?”

“Someone who commands the dead, who plays death like a puppet on a string, someone who has gained control over mortality itself. He is said to reside in the most unholy place in the world.”

A real chill ran up her spine. God, this was even worse than she had imagined. Now, they had to fight the damned Grim Reaper?

“Who's fucking yapping away?” 

They both froze at the yell from outside. Astria glanced at her, eyes filled with terror. Maldez.

Heavy boots stomped towards their cell and a lan leered into their room. He was a grotesque looking fellow, with a nose so crooked he must have broken it several times, eyes small and beady, lips thin and pale. He was tanned and chubby, his belly spilling over the belt of his blue guard uniform.

The man’s eyes settled on Zephyr. A yellowed grin stretched across his bearded face. A white tongue flicked out to lick his lips.

Nausea rolled around Zephyr’s belly. It was like Lockhart all over again. It was worse. 

The man sneered, “and who is this beauty?”

Astrial shrank back and curled into a ball, facing the wall. Zephyr was on her own. Great, thanks for the help, Miss Criminal. Seems like only one Blackthorn was on her side.

Maldez reached for the keys that hung from his belt with beefy fingers, fumbling as he unlocked their cell.

He stepped in, the stench of cigarette smoke and cheap alcohol wafting over her. He did not smell like Dorian, who smelt like expensive wine and bonfires. Maldez stank of rot and evil.

Zephyr cowered, heart hammering in her chest. God, please, not again.

The man grabbed her arm, yanking her to the floor. Zephyr winced as her hip caught the edge of the metal bed, confident she was going to be bruised from that later.

If she survived whatever he planned to do to her.

Astria was sobbing softly as Zephyr was dragged out by her hair. Her scalp was on fire but she refused to whimper. She refused to cry.

All her tears had been wasted by Lockhart already. She had nothing left to spare.

Zephyr let him pull her across the bumpy floor, ignoring the burn of rough stone against her skin. The people in the cells watched with pity as they sat unmovingly. They had all gone through this before.

They had all been raped and abused by this man, and nothing has been done to him yet.

A fire erupted in her chest. Zephyr was already just a number for some journalist to write in a feminist paper on rape victims. How many witches laid silent and endured the violent acts? How many more will?

How many people has Maldez defiled?

Zephyr was thrown into a storeroom of some sort. Her head hit the corner of a shelf and her vision went blurry for a second. She blinked and stared up at the rows of cleaning products that were all unopened and collecting dust. No wonder the place was filthy…no one cleaned.

She was so, so hot from months of rage towards Lockhart, months of feeling helpless over and over in all the nightmares and in real life.

Maldez grinned down at her. “Such a beautiful girl. Shame you’re in prison. I’d make you my wife.”

“I’m thirteen,” she spat, drawing her knees under her.

“Back in my time, age was just a number.”

“News flash, it's not your time, you sick bastard.”

Zephyr easily dodged his boot aimed at her face and spun around, still crouched down. She snarled at him.

“I have faced worse, you are nothing,” she said, hatred nearly blinding her.

Something dark reared its serpentine head in her chest, tongue flicking in delight. Do it. Do something that you will never regret. Kill him.

Maldez laughed, “I will enjoy breaking you, bitch.”

“Not as much as I will,” Zephyr lunged forward.

She had grabbed a bottle of bleach when she rolled earlier, and now she was uncapping it, tossing the liquid right into his ugly face.

The man howled, clawing at his eyes as he stumbled back, but Zephyr was not done.

She swung her fist as hard as she could and it handed heavily into his throat. The man choked and went down, gasping for air.

She raised a leg and stomped down on his crotch. Who cared if she had no magic? She was raised in the muggle world and had plenty of experience with physics brawls.

Maldez toppled sideways, clutching his destroyed jewels as he whimpered, tears leaking down his face.

Zephyr knew she had many more hours before she was rescued. Zephyr couldn't care less.

Another stomp, her full weight on her blow and bones crunched beneath her feet. Maldez screamed.

Dark satisfaction shot through her veins as she stared down at the weeping, broken man. She could end his life so easily. 

Zephyr crouched down, and smiled as she found his wand tucked into a holster on his belt. He curled up, trying to stop her, but she tutted like she was scolding a child and slid the wand out.

It was longer than her own, made of a dark wood and had a knob for a handle. She felt the magic inside it–it was dark and twisted, slimy in texture. She shuddered. The man was vile down to his core.

“You won't get away with this,” he said feebly.

“But I will,” she cooed softly. “Obliviate.”

---

She returned to her cell, head held high and unlocked the door. Stepping back in, she nearly laughed as she sealed herself back.

Astria scanned her frantically, “you’re not hurt?”

“On the contrary.” Zephyr sat down, stretching her hand. She had split her knuckles and it bloody stung. “We’ll be safe from him for tonight.”

“Are you nuts?” The woman hissed, fear written on every inch on her body. “He's not the only guard!”

“I obliviated him.”

“Then they’ll go cell by cell, torturing everyone until someone admits who did it.”

Zephyr froze. “They will?”

“Yes!” She cried. "What have you done?"

“Fuck,” Zephyr ran a hand down her face.

She had been so consumed by her anger that she neglected to think of this possibility. She didn't imagine they’d do a manhunt. Once Astria told her, it made perfect sense and she wanted to slap herself silly.

Gods be damned, she was an idiot.

“How many guards are there?”

“Over twenty. You’re a kid–they used to be certified Aurors. You will lose.”

Zephyr stared at the floor. What time was it? How long until she would see Cas?

“Two questions.” She began slowly, chewing on her lower lip. “Is every guard like Maldez? Do they rape and hurt all of you?”

“Yes…these are retired Aurors. They all have medals and certificates of service. They fought many Dark Witches and Wizards. But they all lost a part of themselves, they all wish they could have done more to get revenge. That’s why they’re here.”

Zephyr took a deep breath. She was having a goddamned conversation on morals with Cas’ family, who he had thrown in here. It wasn't his fault the guards were all corrupted, disturbed bastards, but it was definitely one of the strangest situations she had found herself in.

“Okay,” she said, shaking her head. Merlin, the things she did for her friends. “Where do they keep our wands?”

“Most likely in their office. No,” Astria’s eyes widened. “You aren't planning to…?”

“Knock them all out? Absolutely,” Zephyr winked. “Where’s the office?”

“That's more than two questions.”

She heard a cry of shock from somewhere in the distance and an alarm began to blare. Prisoners began to cry and scream as guards rushed past their cells to investigate the situation.

“I don't have time,” Zephyr gripped the woman’s hands. “Please.”

“The opposite side,” she said. “All the way at the end of the hallway.”

“Thanks,” Zephyr headed for the cell door. “Stay down and don't come out, no matter what.”

She used the key she had stolen off Maldez to unlock the door, wincing at the resounding creek it made as it swung open on rusty hinges. She carefully stuck her head. The hallways were clear and she stepped out.

She knew what she was going to do was bad. It was wrong. It was assault and she was no better than those in Azkaban. The guards were bad men. They raped. Maldez would have raped her.

Zephyr found that she didn't care about morality anymore.

She began sprinting, as fast as her aching legs could go, down the prison, ignoring the shouts and clanging of metal coming from beside her. 

It was a gosh-darn long hallway. 

The air was chilly, like a cold knife that drove between her ribcage. Her breath rattled in her lungs, feet pounding against the stones. Zephyr was alone now, she had no backup, no Cas to save her.

It terrified and excited her at the same time. What was she capable of without her friends' help? How many times did she hold herself back in favour of them?

Finally, she reached a locked wooden door, after several twists and turns. Zephyr wasted no time slamming herself into the wood as hard as she could. The wood whined and she winced at the fire that spread across her shoulder.

The wood had to be rotten from all the moisture in the air. It had to be weak. She couldn't Alohomora the door open. Zephyr had to physically break it down.

She charged at the door again, adrenaline pumping through her veins. The door burst open, splinters flying through the air, and the wood landed with a mighty crash.

Her arm was throbbing in agony but she didn't have the time to stop to assess the damage.

Stepping over the broken frame, she raised a hand, breathing deeply, and said, “Accio wand.”

Her wand, her beautiful wand, flew through the air and smacked into her palm. Her nervousness dissolved in an instant. It was like half of her soul had returned.

She turned, wand ready and faltered as she watched a dozen men in uniform storm down the corridor. 

Well, crap.

“Hand over your wand, witch!” One yelled.

Zephyr touched the tip to her destroyed arm and muttered, “Ferula.”

Her throbbing lessened considerably and she let out a sigh of relief. 

“I will give you one last chance,” yelled a man. “Hand over your wand and surrender! You won't escape.”

Zephyr threw the first spell, “Impedimenta.”

The men rushed forward, or at least, tried to. Her hex slowed their movements, buying her a couple seconds to throw up a shield as their attacks began.

She dodged most, knowing some spells could not be blocked, and only intercepted the spells she knew. Thankfully, they couldn't cast wordlessly, and her training with Cas equipped her with sufficient knowledge of the curses they threw.

Zephyr casted a Stinging Hex at the guard nearest to her and ducked as a red jinx nearly hit her head.

From there, it was a full out brawl.

Zephyr deflected a Bombada and shot a Confringo back. Flames rolled down the hallway and several guards fell to the ground, screaming as their skin blistered.

She casted her next curse immediately, taking advantage of their pain. “Incarcerous.”

Ropes sprung from her wand, shooting through the air like serpents, snaking towards the men at lightning speed. They wrapped around their chest, their arms, incapacitating the guards.

The ones who were still standing pitched forward, balance lost, and tumbled unceremoniously onto the floor.

“Alarte Ascendare,” Zephyr whispered.

All the men were flung upwards, heads hitting the low ceiling with awful cracks before they fell back down unconscious.

Zephyr wasn't sure what possessed her to use that spell. She had learnt it from Lockhart during their dueling club. Zephyr hated him, hated that she used his spell to end the fight.

She threw up against the wall, heaving as tears clouded her vision. She felt faint, her whole body trembling from magical and physical exhaustion. She wanted Casspian so, so badly.

The air smelt like copper and burnt skin. 

Blood coated the walls like a child had found red paint and ran amok with it.

The girl surveyed the damage, wincing at the many cuts and wounds that littered their bodies. Sure, they weren't good people, but they were people. She injured them so easily, knocked them out without hesitation. Zephyr was just as bad as the darkest wizards out there.

Zephyr wanted to die. Zephyr wanted Casspian.

She probably deserved to just off herself. Groaning, she slid to the ground beside her vomit, in too much pain to care.

She didn't leave the battle unscathed, which sucked. Her shoulder was still on fire and she made a mental note to get it examined. Cuts riddled her skin from several hexes, blood trickling lazily down. Her head pounded like a second heartbeat between her brows.

How long more until she was rescued? Zephyr desperately wished she had a watch. What if the men woke up? She was certain she couldn't win another fight.

She lifted her hand, closing her eyes. She pulled at her magic and found barely a silver left. Yep, she couldn't heal herself anytime soon.

Groaning, she leaned her head back. Merlin, she realky fucked up her misson so badly, hadn't she? She was only supposed to gain information, and she ended up attacking every damned guard.

“There you are, bitch.”

Good god, round two already?

Zephyr cracked an eye open, her energy completely spent. Maldez limped towards her, eyes black like burning coals. His face was a mess of blood and broken skin–she didn't even remember hitting him in the nose.

She held up her hand with a trembling hand, grip weak, and he Accio’d it straight from her palm. Fuck. Her arm fell uselessly to the ground.

She was so tired. The world spun before her eyes and she blinked, trying to focus on the man approaching her. 

Why couldn't she move? Why did her body betray her? She needed to get up, to protect herself, but her limbs refused to obey her commands. Was this how she died?

He knelt down before her, lips curled up in a snarl to reveal his missing front tooth. Crimson strained his pearly whites and she looked away. Did she really do that much damage to him? Their scuffle had concluded quite quickly, she barely recalled anything from it. All she remembered was him bearing down on her, Maldez sinking to the floor and her Obliviate.

“You must be the bitch that did this to me,” Maldez’s hot breath washed over her face as he gripped her chin, forcing her to look him in the eyes. 

She tried to pull back, to spit an insult, but all that left her throat was a pitiful mewling. She had never used so much magic in one go, and she was clearly paying the price of it.

If she got out of this alive, she was going to train her stamina.

Zephyr blinked languidly, fighting to keep herself conscious. Her body was too heavy and she couldn't push Maldez away.

“I’m going to enjoy ruining you before I throw you back into your fucking cage like the animal you are,” he hissed, a grin spreading across his cheeks. “Crucio.”

Millions of flaming blades stabbed her at once and she screamed, back arching. The knives twisted as she sobbed, clawing at the floor, the wall, the air, for anything she could grip. 

It was the worst pain she had ever experienced. Every fiber of her body burned like she had been submerged in boiling acid. She flailed, body convulsing like she was possessed.

Then, it was over, leaving Zephyr gasping for much needed air. She had never been subjected to the Cruciatus curse, and there was absolutely nothing that could have compared to the sheer agony it caused.

“I don't think you've learnt your lesson yet,” Maldez muttered. “Crucio.”

Chapter 36: 3.10

Summary:

rest in peace, prof mcgonagall, maggie smith 🙏

Zephyr wasn't sure what was up or down, or what time was as a concept. All she knew was excruciating pain.

Was she dead? It sure felt like she had died several times over.

She panted on the floor. She wasn't sure how many times Maldez had Crucio’d her, but she knew it was more than five and that she had lost count. She was surprised she was still conscious.

Zephyr braced herself for the next round when she felt herself being levitated up. She was weightless, floating down the hallway.

She blinked and she was back in her cell, dumped on the floor. The door clanged shut and she curled up.

Zephyr felt cool hands touch her fevered skin. A woman’s voice filled her aching head. She couldn't understand the words she was saying, but she could hear the concern in her voice.

She hugged her knees tighter.

Her memories were foggy at best–what had happened? How long had she been tortured? 

Zephyr’s throat dried up. She had been tortured.

“Ju-just sleep. It’ll be okay,” said the woman more clearly.

Zephyr had no protests and closed her eyes.

Her exhaustion definitely helped her doze off but she was awoken every half hour or so by horrible dreams of Maldez and his Crucio. Then, the nightmares transformed and it was Lockhart who was casting the curses.

She wailed and cried every time she gained consciousness and was soothed back to sleep by those blissfully cold hands. She tried to sleep regardless. She knew she needed the rest. As her eyes slid shut for the umpteenth time, she was thrown into her worst dream yet.

Zephyr was burning again, her very cells disintegrating beneath her skin. Lockhart laughed heartily like he was just told a very good joke, and not like she was thrashing at his feet.

“Zeph!” Someone was screaming.

Casspian was running towards her. Cas! Her heart swelled with happiness. He would save her. She’d be okay.

He crashed into an invisible barrier. His face morphed into absolute rage as he threw an onslaught of spells at the shield but it was futile. He couldn't get to her.

Zephyr watched tears cascade down his cheeks as he slammed himself into the wall of hard air. 

If Cas couldn't save her, who could? She was doomed to suffer at Lockhart’s hands forever.

Someone shook her and she gasped, eyes flying open.

“Good Merlin, what the hell happened?”

She gazed up at a man in an expensive blue robe. He held a pastry box beneath his arm. Slowly, her senses returned to her as her heart rate slowed.

He was the man who helped get her imprisoned. Mister…Shacklebolt? She recalled thinking how odd of a name he had. He was the head Auror, if she remembered correctly. Her mind was mush at the moment.

“I don't know, sir,” said the woman.

Astria. Yes! That was her name.

Zephyr threw a hand over her eyes. “Just lemme sleep.”

“You are going to a healer now.”

She was floating again. She drifted through the door of the cell and she closed her eyes. She was so tired. Her head was whirling like those teacup rides at a carnival and she gripped onto the darkness that invaded her mind.

A blinding red light hit her. 

Unexplainable agony.

Lockhart’s blinding smile. 

Cas’ cries. 

She jerked back into reality.

“I can't let her go! She injured—” Maldez was shouting.

Had she fallen asleep?

“And I’m your boss. Give me her wand.”

Maldez made a sound crossed between a snarl and a groan and then, she was out in sunlight.

“I’ll Aparate you. Just hold on.”

Someone hugged her and she winced as her wounds protested against the touch. 

The world truly began to twist now. She held on tightly to the robes of Mister Shacklebolt, pleading that she wouldn't throw up on his clothes–but she had nothing in her stomach anyways.

They landed in a room that smelled like spice, soup and coffee. Zephyr was struck with the overwhelming realisation that it was all over; she was safe now. Her knees buckled and she hit the floor.

There were several cries of alarm and she felt warm, calloused hands caress her cheek; hands that she held hundreds of times. Stormy grey eyes bore down at her, eyebrows knitted. The boy was as beautiful as the day they met, perhaps more so.

“Cas,” she whispered, voice strained from shrieking.

“Zephyr. What did they do to you?” 

His rage was palatable. The room darkened as shadows seemed to grow out of him in waves. His magic was responding to his anger.

“Missed you,” she murmured, lifting a trembling hand to poke his nose. It left dried blood on his pale skin. “Hee-hee.”

“I’m not sure what happened,” Mister Shacklebolt said. “When I went to retrieve her, she was in this state.”

“Dorian, Matthias, get your asses here,” Cas barked.

Two more boys entered her vision, both seething. Three angels hovered over her and she giggled again, barely lucid.

“My boys,” she croaked, grinning giddily.

“We’re here now,” Cas promised, clutching her hand tightly. “You're safe.”

“Not safe. Never safe.”

Cas’ expression was pained as he blinked back tears. “I’m sorry. I am so fucking sorry, Firefly.”

She inhaled sharply. Firefly. It felt like water washed over her. She rubbed her eyes, fighting against her tiredness.

“You can't heal me,” Zephyr said softly. “I was Crucio’d several times.”

All of their eyes darkened at the same time and Cas’ jaw clenched. Every object made of glass exploded at once and Shacklebolt cursed, quickly erecting a shield over them. 

“They did what?” Cas asked softly, fingers ghosting over her face, over the cuts that were dried there. 

Zephyr shifted uncomfortably, “you heard me.”

“Give me a name.”

Dorian rose from the floor and headed to his bag. She watched him as he pulled out a vial of red liquid and handed it to Cas.

“Drink,” he commanded, pushing it to her lips. “It’ll help with the pain.”

She downed the potion and closed her eyes, waiting for the effects to happen. Cas pulled her carefully onto his lap, hands threading through her hair.

It worked quickly, all the sharp edges of her agony dulling to throbs. Zephyr let out a soft sigh and smiled up at Cas.

“Hi,” she said.

“Give me a name,” he replied bluntly. “Please.”

“Maldez, but you can't do anything to him.”

“Give me one good reason why I should not kill him.”

“I broke his hands and his nose and his dick. Then, I Obliviated him. Oh, and I gave eighteen of his guards a concussion. Then, he found and Crucio’d me, so I think it was more of a payback than anything.”

The three boys stared at her incredulously.

“He tried to ra—” she winced at the word. “Take advantage of me, but I broke his bones first. I think I’ll be in more trouble if you did anything to him.”

“You did what?” Shacklebolt exclaimed. “Merlin! I’ll need to get a trial settled and everything.”

“I have immunity, right?” Zephyr asked.

“Yes, but still—”

“The guards would have tortured all of us if they didn't find out who hurt Maldez,” she explained tiredly. “Sure, they were prisoners but…they're people. They would have been raped and tortured if I didn't intervene. I refuse to stand and watch everyone get reduced to objects for sexual pleasure.”

Because she had been one.

“Let's get you to bed,” Cas said, an arm going beneath her knees. “C’mon.”

He lifted her and she rested her head against his chest. 

“I missed you,” she found herself repeating as he carried her into an adjoining room. 

“I’m here, Zeph’,” he replied as he set her down onto a bed.

“Much better than the metal one,” she laughed and then began to cough, wheezing as her lungs seized up.

Cas rubbed her back, whispering words of comfort as she struggled to breathe.

“I’ll kill him. I’ll tear him limb-from-limb,” he vowed softly.

“Stay,” Zephyr caught his hand. “Don't leave me.”

“I won't. Never again. I promise,” he faltered. “But my promises don't mean shit, do they?”

“You couldn't have anticipated this.”

Cas settled against her, pulling her back to his chest, their arms and legs entangling with each other. She sighed, content at the warmth radiating from his body. She wished she could spend the rest of time lying with him there.

“Sleep,” he said, brushing a kiss to her head. “I’ll be here when you wake.”

---

Cas didn't lie. He held her through every nightmare she had (which happened every damned time she closed her eyes) and brushed her tears away. He gave her pain potion after potion, rubbing her back as she choked them down.

Her other boys came to check in on her as well, offering food and water which remained untouched on the dresser. 

Outside, a verbal storm had ensued, Dorian’s voice cold and demanding against Shacklebolt’s. Cas seemed to have left Dorian in charge of the situation.

Everytime it got too loud, Cas would wave his wand and the voices were more muted, but still audible. Cas was listening in, apparently.

“What are they saying?” Zephyr asked him eventually, yawning into his neck.

“They’re discussing if we can throw them into Azkaban or not,” Cas muttered. “Shacklebolt is terrified of what the public will do when the press reports on the situation.”

She hummed, prompting him to continue on.

Cas sighed heavily but obliged, “we are underage and are allowed nearly free reign of magic outside Hogwarts. We also don't have a good reputation in the public’s eye. They’ll ask why you will go unpunished for your actions. Many of the Aurors you defeated were highly respected back in their days.”

“Oh.” Disappointment welled up in her. “So they’ll go free.”

“I don't know,” he tightened his grip on her. “If the justice system fails you, I swear I will not. I’ll get revenge.”

“You haven't asked me what your twice-removed whatever told me.”

“You're more important than this stupid mission–I’ve told you this before.”

Zephyr shifted, turning to face him. She pressed her forehead against his, relishing the coolness of his skin against hers. 

“Well,” she whispered, lips almost brushing his. “She said they had help from someone known as the Necromancer.”

“The Necromancer?” Cas’ eyebrows knitted. “I’ve never heard of them. At least we have a place to start at, now.”

“Yeah. The Necromancer sounds scary.”

He hummed, “a Necromancer can raise the dead, creating Inferi and other undead creatures to serve them. Inferi can only be harmed by fire, if I recall correctly.”

“Why would your parents side with him? How would it serve Voldemort?”

“I mean, they are pretty old fashioned and have the whole ‘eradicate those who aren't pure-blood’ mentality which aligns with the Dark Lord. The Necromancer, however,” he shrugged. “No clue.”

“Who even is this person? They never appeared before.”

“We’ll figure it out. But now, you need to rest.”

She nodded, nuzzling into his shoulder. Zephyr loved his scent–it smelled like home and comfort. Slowly, lulled by his breathing, her eyes slipped shut and she succumbed to sleep.

---

“So we can't do anything about it?” Cas asked quietly.

His knuckles were white as he gripped the mug of steaming coffee in his hands, his gaze fixed on Mister Shacklebolt.

“Unfortunately, we won't be able to cover up her actions if we punish them.” Mister Shacklebolt eyed the boy warily.

Zephyr lounged on the couch, a book cracked open on her thighs but she hadn't turned the pages for quite some time, too engrossed in the conversation. 

Her emotions were a wreck–shifting rapidly from anger, to disappointment. Was the Ministry so useless?

Dorian chuckled humourlessly. “You're letting this Maldez fellow go free after what he did to Zephyr?”

“Not free, per say,” Shacklebolt sighed, knocking back yet another shot of Firewhiskey. “I have demoted him and he is being closely watched by my most trusted men.”

“That's all?” Matthias asked, glancing at the time quickly. “He used an Unforgivable and he gets a slap on the wrist? What type of bullshit is that? You may as well announce that Voldemort is a misunderstood guy.”

“That's different—”

Cas laughed darkly, “yeah, because Voldemort never Crucio’d a child.”

“He tried to kill Harry Potter.”

“A painless and instant death. Maldez intended to torture Zephyr,” Cas snapped, slamming his cup onto the table, rattling the decorative plant in the middle and spilling brown liquid onto the countertop. “It isn't the same, it is worse.”

Zephyr swung her legs off the sofa and padded across the small motel room, coming to stand behind Cas. She ran a hand across his shoulders and he deflated, leaning to embrace her touch.

“You’ll catch him doing something one day,” she began. “And you’ll make sure he is punished for it, won't you?”

Shacklebolt’s gaze flirted from Zephyr’s tired face, to Cas’ fury-filled eyes, to Matthias’s clenched jaw and Dorian’s tensed body, and the man sighed. 

“Yes, I will.”

“It's better than nothing,” Zephyr said to Cas who shook his head furiously.

“It’s not enough! Why don't you understand the severity of Maldez’s actions?” He spat out at her.

Zephyr straightened and replied coldly, heart racing in her chest, “I do understand. I was the one who was Crucio’d.”

Cas flinchrd at her words and bowed his head. “I’m sorry. I-I just–fuck, I don't know. I feel like an absolute failure.”

Dorian glanced over, lips lifting in a sad smile. “None of us could have anticipated what happened. It isn't your fault, buddy.”

“Buddy?” Matthias snorted. 

“Oh, shut up, Arnoux.” Dorian rolled his eyes, running a hand through his disheveled blond hair. “It just came out.”

“Sure, bestie.”

“I hate all of you.”

“Buddy, bestie, honey, whatever,” Cas cut in, “we need to know about the Necromancer. Shacklebolt?”

“The Necromancer,” the man murmured. “The public hasn't been informed yet. I plan to subdue him and keep him from gaining anymore followers.”

The brunette perked up, “so you know who he is?”

“He appeared a couple years ago. His real identity is still a mystery. I know he’s incredibly powerful and can create hundreds of undead warriors that are loyal to him. He has been finding graves of Dark Wizards, intending to resurrect them and use their abilities to aid him in his conquest.”

“What is his goal?” Dorian switched off the kettle and poured himself a cup of Earl Grey. “What does he want?”

“To rule the world, as far as I can tell. He doesn't seem to have a prejudice against any blood purity, he just seeks to gain full control of anyone that was and is powerful. He wants to create an army of the most powerful dead magical folk.”

Zephyr’s head ached. It was so much information to absorb all at once. She could see the possibility of them living normal lives dissolve before her eyes.

She asked softly, wanting to confirm her fears, “so it's war?”

“We will do everything in our power to stop it from escalating that far,” Shacklebolt assured.

Cas glanced up to meet her eyes. She knew what he was thinking; war would start regardless and they would fight.

She nodded lightly; she would be next to him every step of the way and he let out a breath of resignation.

“Do we know his whereabouts?” Dorian asked, rummaging through the fridge. “Damn, you guys took my last chocolate frog.”

“Sorry,” Zephyr raised a hand meekly. “I was craving something sweet.”

“Ah, nevermind, I can always get more,” Dorian said and gave her an easy-going grin. “I’m loaded.”

Matthias laughed, turning to her from beside Cas. “He would have killed the rest of us if we were the culprits.”

“Hey, she got tortured–she can have all my chocolates if she wants,” Dorian said with a shrug.

Zephyr was thankful that her friends joked about it, for some reason. They didn't treat her like a cracked mug that could shatter at any moment. It helped her feel a bit better.

Cas cleared his throat.

Shacklebolt jerked, refocusing on the topic, “well, we do know his whereabouts. However…”

“Spit it out,” Cas said flatly. He was in no mood for their usual banter.

Zephyr’s fingers slid into his hair, rubbing his scalp soothingly. He inhaled deeply and tension left his body. He had been so wired up since she came back, like he was an inch away from killing somebody. Dorian and Matthias were careful when they spoke to him, knowing he was itching for a reason to blow up.

“He's protected by dozens of powerful dead wizards; Herpo the Foul, Loxias, Raczidian, just to name a few,” Shacklebolt said with a shudder. “That's why we couldn't breach them yet. The Necromancer is too-well protected. We will die if we try to take him down now.”

Cas’ fingers tapped a steady beat against his cup. “The longer we wait, the more allies he will create. Isn't it better if we attack sooner than later?”

“Plus,” Matthias said with a frown, “wasn't Herpo from Greece? How did The Necromancer drag his corpse all the way to London?”

“We discovered he began recruiting more than four years ago. He has gained a significant following since then,” Shacklebolt told them. “We have been outmatched for a very long time. We are hoping that time will reduce his army. If he is capable of holding hundreds of dead warriors together for years, then I’m afraid that not even God could save us.”

“Is he working with Voldemort?” Cas asked, getting up to refill his drink.

“We believe he is working alone.” Shacklebolt flinched at Cas’ casual mention of the Dark Lord’s name.

“It’s a three-way war, then,” Matthias sumerised flatly. “And all of our families are on different sides of it.”

The clock chimed, striking twelve, making all of them pause momentarily. It was the fifteenth of September. Cas and Dorian exchanged looks, a smile on their lips. Matthias groaned.

“Happy birthday, Matthias,” Zephyr squeezed his arm. “I’m sorry it's such a terrible birthday.”

“Terrible?” Dorian snorted. “Yeah, but I’ve been guarding the fridge with my life today for a reason.”

Matthias blinked. “What?”

Cas smiled lightly and waved his wand. Confetti rained from the end, covering the stunned red-head in colourful paper. A party hat appeared on everyone’s head, even Shacklebolt’s. 

Dorian pulled out a box from the fridge and set it in front of Matthias, sliding out a simple red velvet cake with Slytherin green frosting.

“Did you think we’d forget to celebrate?” Cas rolled his eyes at Matthias’ flabbergasted expression. “We got Shacklebolt to sneak off to buy this for us.”

Zephyr’s eyes went round, “that’s the thing you were holding when you came to retrieve me?”

Shacklebolt nodded, grumbling, “damned kids making me get birthday supplies.”

The candles were lit, cake pushed in front of Matthias and they crowded around him, singing him the birthday song. Shacklebolt had brought a camera and snapped a couple of pictures of them.

“Make a wish, Matthias,” Dorian said, gaze fixed solely on the dessert.

“Uh, okay,” Matthias’ eyes slipped shut and he was silent for a couple of seconds before he blew out the candles.

They cut the cake and shared it, their conversation paused momentarily to celebrate. Once the cake was cleared and the dishes were piled in the sink, they watched Matthias open his presents.

“I can't believe you three had the time to get me anything.” He shook his head as he unwrapped the newest broom model. “Thank you, Dorian.”

Cas got him several books on Occulumency whilst Zephyr found him an enchanted gameboy that could work in Hogwarts (which was truthfully her old one, but she knew he’d love it).

Once the presents were opened, Shacklebolt steered them back to their discussion.

“If your parents are really in league with the Necromancer, then we can't take them down,” Shacklebolt said with a sigh. “You four should just go back to Hogwarts. I’ll inform the Ministry of the development and we’ll get you on the train by noon. Go get some shut-eye, as the muggles say.”

“Hey, Zeph’?”

“Yeah, Dorian?”

“Leave Maldez to me.” Dorian’s face was grim, some sort of acceptance in his eyes that she didn't quite understand, but she nodded anyways.

Chapter 37: 3.11

Boarding the Hogwarts Express was weird since they were the only ones on it. They lounged around, not really talking to each other. Everyone was preoccupied by their own thoughts. They napped for a couple hours, Matthias’ new gameboy blaring as they slept.

The train rumbled past the greenery, sunlight bathing them. It was more serene than it should have been. Zephyr felt like a completely different person than she was when she had left. 

How was she going to sleep in her dorm when she had nightmares every time she closed her eyes? She probably had to cast the silencing spell around her bed to prevent waking her dorm mates up with her cries.

Maybe she should move permanently into Cas’ bed. It would definitely help.

The Ministry had declared the mission unsuccessful and sent them back to Hogwarts. Her boys were unsatisfied with the outcome, but obeyed.

“Hey,” Mattias broke the tense silence. “At least it's Quidditch season. I want to try out for the team.”

“Since when did you have an interest in the game?” Cas asked, glancing up from his book of Ancient and Dark Runes: a Guide. “You’ll fall off and break your legs.”

“I’ll cheer you on,” Zephyr said, shooting a ‘really?’ glare at Cas who shrugged.

“I mean, with everything that's happening,” Dorian waved obscurely to empathise on the 'everything’, “Arnoux can get a hobby if it helps him let out steam.”

“I use my hand,” Cas muttered, more to himself, but the two boys snorted at his perverted words.

Zephyr gasped at him and he turned pink, pressing a hand to his eyes. “Forget that.”

“Oh, c’mon, Zeph’,” Dorian said with a chuckle. “You can't have forgotten we’re teenage boys going through puberty.”

“Gross,” she said, cringing.

An imagine flashed through her mind at rapid speed; Cas in the Slytherin showers, steam rising around him as water cascaded down his muscular, naked back, brown hair dripping as his hand reached downwards—

Oh, Lord. Zephyr’s face burned and she cleared her throat, ignoring the wicked grins from Dorian and Matthias.

“Surely girls have the same thoughts?” Matthias asked in a factual tone, like they were discussing some sort of scientific experiment. “Girls do go through puberty as well. Unless, it's different?”

Zephyr stared at him as Cas put his book down, suddenly intrigued by the mortifying conversation. 

Her throat dried, “what the hell?”

“Hey, you're our only girl friend,” Dorian said, eyes bright. “We’re curious.”

“You three are disgusting,” she muttered, shivering.

She wasn't uncomfortable with the topic because they didn't remind her of Lockhart, but it was an absurdity that they were asking her of all people.

Cas’ eyes sharpened, “don't answer if you don't want to.”

The other boys stilled for a moment, blinking as they seemed to remember something. 

“Sorry,” Dorian said, regret apparent in his eyes. “I didn't mean to offend you. Really–it’s just…”

“Yeah,” Matthias summarised, “we mean no harm or anything.”

“Of course girls get hormonal,” she said awkwardly, shifting in her seat. “But–Merlin, why is this conversation even happening–it hasn't exactly been my priority, with what is going on.”

“But we know most of the girls in our year have been snogging people already,” Dorian said, tilting his head. “They have crushes and are so boy–or girl–crazy. You've never had a crush on anyone?”

“Firstly, if I did fancy someone, you three would be the last to know,” she scowled. “With all your overprotective tendencies, any boy who I was interested in would run miles. Secondly, not all girls are the same. They aren't all snogging people in dark alcoves.”

“You like someone?” Cas asked, blinking at her.

Yes. “No!” She cried, thoroughly embarrassed, avoiding Cas’ eyes. “Fuck’s sake!” You.

“Let's stop before she hexes us,” Matthias said, laughing. “But if you're ever curious about the male anatomy, just let us know.”

“Goodness gracious,” she groaned.

“How far till we reach?” Dorian stretched his legs out, kicking Cas on accident, who retaliated. “Ow. Relax, dude, it wasn't on purpose.”

“Dude, buddy, bestie,” Cas said off-handedly, “the list grows on. I’d estimate we have about thirty minutes before we arrive.”

It was night when the train finally pulled up at Hogwarts' station. They got off, staring out at the darkness. Crickets chirped cheerily in the forests behind them, a cold breeze messing up their hair. The smell of The Great Lake wafted over them–a distinctively fishy smell that reminded Zephyr of long-forgotten happiness.

“I’m hungry, maybe there's leftovers from dinner if we hurry,” Dorian began down the slope.

“It's after curfew,” Cas replied. “We need to bribe the House Elves for food.”

“Yeah, I don't think they like me very much,” Zephyr winced. “They tried to cook me, remember?”

Cas smiled at her, “how could I forget? We had just met and I was so angry at the world, then you came in like a beam of sunlight and everything got better.”

---

The morning they woke, the school was bustling with speculations on their disappearance. By the time they headed down to eat breakfast, they had apparently become Dark Wizards, joined Voldemort, killed the Minister of Magic, overthrown the Government and deconstructed the Statute of Secrecy.

“They are all so stupid,” Dorian muttered angrily as he chomped down an omelette. 

He was grumpier than usual because they hadn't been able to convince an elf to make them supper and had to go to bed hungry. A hungry Dorian Harlot was the most dangerous Dorian Harlot.

Zephyr hid a grin at his words and knocked back her third cup of milky coffee. She hadn't been able to sleep much that night, suffering from the same recurring nightmares. She had a sinking feeling that she wouldn't be able to rest well for a very long time.

Cas was tearing through the past week’s Daily Prophet, scribbling on a piece of parchment as he tried to find leads on his parents' whereabouts.

Matthias nudged him, “we were taken off the mission, remember?”

“Doesn't matter,” Cas said with a heavy sigh. “They’re my parents and thus, any deaths they cause is my responsibility.”

“It's not,” Zephyr said firmly.

He looked up for the first time that morning, meeting her gaze. She held it steadily, trying to convey as much reassurance as she could through her eyes.

Casspian inclined his head, his face still stormy.  “Okay.”

She wasn't satisfied by his flat tone and decided it was a fruitless battle. He was fully convinced that his parent's' actions were his burden to take care of.

Zephyr hated the world for entrusting a young boy with so much.

“What are we going to do about the rumours?” Matthias asked, reaching for a treacle tart. 

“Nothing. Let them fabricate whatever they wish,” Cas said curtly. “It is not our problem.”

Zephyr scooped another slice of pumpkin pie onto Cas’ empty plate and he stared at it before taking a reluctant bite. Dusting the crumbs off his pants, he flipped the latest edition of the news close.

“Well,” Matthias said, standing up. “If you are all going to wallow in self-pity, I’m going to go try out for Qudditch.”

“We are not wallowing,” Dorian scowled.

“Mhm, whatever!” Matthias made his way down the table to talk to Marcus Flint, the captain of the Slytherin team.

“Lord, if he joins the team, we’ll have to come to support every game,” Cas said with a groan. 

“We have other problems,” Dorian said, eyes fixed on the teachers’ table. “Dumbledore wants to talk.”

The man was looking at them, a grim expression on his face, and beckoned to them with a crooked finger. They all groaned.

They met him after breakfast, the four of them standing near the door of his office, staring at Dumbledore.

“How are you?” He asked.

Zephyr could barely focus on the man. The portraits in his study were all waving wildly, fighting for their attention.

“Groo–good,” Matthias stammered as he stared at a painting of a wizard with a beard long enough to reach his toes.

Cas snickered at the both of them and stepped forward, falling into his natural role of being their leader. “We’re okay, Headmaster. I’m sure you received the report from the Ministry.”

“Yes, indeed,” his periwinkle eyes landed on Zephyr, pity and sorrow crossing his face. “I must ask how Miss Sylvester is coping.”

Her heart skipped a beat. He knew about the Crucio. Zephyr hated feeling so vulnerable in front of someone she didn't trust. She cleared her throat and trained her gaze onto her shoes.

“I’m fine.”

Not that he truly cared. Dumbledore let in a child predator the year before, with no regards to the curriculum or the students’ wellbeing. 

“If you need a Mind Healer, be sure to reach out to me. The risks for your mission were very high and I am sorry for what happened.”

Zephyr wanted to laugh. She wanted to smash the study, burn all the books and throw herself out of the window. She did not want the Headmaster to express regret for something he could have prevented. If he knew, why did he send them?

The room was shaking, the books trembling with her rage. Her magic seeked to destroy, her self-control clinging on by a thread.

She bit the inside of her cheek, blood boiling. The boys looked at her with alarm as portraits fell off the walls with a mighty crash. Dumbledore watched silently, sadness in his eyes.

“Okay!” Cas grabbed her hand. “Thanks for the concern, but we have this under control.”

He began marching her from the room before she could do more damage. 

Outside the office, she leaned against the wall, eyes closed as she struggled to get her breathing under control. 

The Ministry were downright assholes for sending kids to do their bidding just because they didn't want to get their precious, minted hands dirty.

“Zeph’,” Cas muttered, clutching her arm. “Come back to me.”

Inhaling shakily, she met his gaze. “I’m fine. Why does everyone treat me like I’m fragile? They look at you three with so much respect and at me like I’m not good enough to cope with the same amount of expectations. I hate it.”

She didn't know what she was saying in her blind rage.

She didn't care.

Matthias and Dorian exchanged bewildered looks. 

“No one said you aren't as capable as we are,” Cas said evenly, stepping closer to her. “You are stronger than the three of us combined. Fuck the world if they don't know that, but we do. You went through the most; you keep going through much more than we do.”

“I don't need a fucking Mind Healer,” she seethed. “I don't need anyone’s pity.”

The ringing in her ears drowned out Cas’ reply. Zephyr blinked away her tears. 

Her best friend pulled her against him, rubbing soothing circles into her back. She shuddered as she sagged into his body, letting him hold her up.

She counted backwards from a hundred, letting go of her burden every ten.

Ninety. She didn't care that the Ministry was useless.

Eighty. Zephyr didn't care that she was nearly raped twice.

Seventy. She didn't care about having the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Sixty. She had to survive and she did not care if she lost herself along the way.

On and on she went, chanting a mantra in her head. Eventually, her cries stopped and her lungs no longer ached. Lifting her head from Cas’ shoulder, she blinked up at him.

He smiled gently down at her, “hi.”

“Hi,” her voice was meek.

“Better?”

“Yeah.”

“C’mon,” Dorian awkwardly reached to pat her head. “Let's get to class.”

She untangled herself from Cas and off they went, walking down the hallway like they were normal magical students.

Their first class was History of Magic with the Ravenclaws. Zephyr was endlessly thankful for their thirst for knowledge because they asked them directly instead of whispering.

“Is it true?” A boy stopped in front of her table. Cas glanced up sharply. “That you four took over the Ministry?”

“If it were true, why would we be sitting in class?” Cas drawled, rolling his eyes. “Why would the Minister of Magic be in school?”

Terry Boot flushed a bit.

Malfoy snorted, “they probably went off exterminating mudbl—”

Dorian, who sat across from Draco, flicked his wand and Malfoy’s chair jerked, the boy crashing to the ground.

“What was that, blondie?” Matthias glanced over. “Anything to share with the class?”

Draco’s jaw clenched but he stayed quiet, putting his chair back and heaving himself off the floor.

“No, we did not overthrow the government or kill anyone,” Cas announced loudly. “And frankly, it's none of your business.”

“Just out of curiosity, Harlot,” Millicient Bulstrode from Slytherin said, “how will you sign your Hogsmeade permission slips when your parents are in prison?”

She was a chubby, black-haired girl with no remarkable features or family background. Zephyr arched an eyebrow at her.

“Shut up, Bull-toad,” a drawl came from the back of the room. “No one asked for your opinion.”

They whipped around. There, seated at the very corner of the class, were two boys, both looking extremely bored. The one on the right had spoken–his brown hair combed neatly back, brown eyes boring into Millicient’s back.

“Stay out of it, Nott,” she snapped.

“That is not very nice,” said the dark-skinned boy on the left cheerfully.

“Who are they?” She whispered to Cas who shrugged helplessly.

“Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini,” Dorian hissed. “Powerful families.”

“We don't need your help, thanks,” Matthias said, tone light but there was a bite behind it.

“We aren't offering any,” Theodore said with an easy smile. “They're just getting on my nerves.”

Malfoy and Bull-Toad (Zephyr snickered at the name) paled and went silent.

Cas leaned back to delve into a muttered discussion with Dorian. 

Zephyr frowned. “She is right. Who is going to sign your permission slips?”

“We don't need permission,” Cas said, glancing at her for a moment. “We’ve been to Hogsmeade plenty of times.”

“It's not the same thing,” she said with a groan.

Her mother had happily signed hers and even offered to sign her friends’ ones, which wasn't allowed, but the thought had been appreciated.

“I get what you mean,” Matthias said, nodding. “Feels like we're missing out.”

He then promptly leaned towards the other two boys to eavesdrop on their conversation. Zephyr feeling rather ostracised, flipped open her textbook and wrinkled her nose in disbelief. She had no knowledge of this year’s syllabus yet.

If they were sent on more missions, their N.E.W.T.S and O.W.L.S would be affected. She sighed heavily for the hundredth time that day.

Eventually, Cas finished his super secretive discussion and nudged her. She gave him a dead stare and he shrugged, scribbling on a piece of parchment and pushed it towards her.

Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini are practically Slytherin royalty. Blaise is from a real royal family from Italy. His mother is filthy rich, even richer than Dorian’s family.

Theodore Nott’s father is a well-known Death Eater, and was captured a couple of years ago. Theodore, however, doesn't have the same prejudice as his father had. He isn't rich but his family is one of the Sacred Twenty-Nine.

She read his note with mounting confusion.

What's the Sacred Twenty-Nine?

His reply came rushed as Professor Binn’s drifted into the room. She squinted as she tried to decipher his rather cryptic handwriting.

Only twenty-nine magical families in Britain are considered fully pure-blooded. They have no trace of any muggles in their bloodline. Dorian is part of them. Me and Arnoux weren't born here, so our families aren't technically British. But our bloodlines are both pure as well

Zephyr allowed herself a couple of seconds to digest his words while her professor began his long lecture in his monotone voice.

So, you’re saying you’re a product of incest?

She slid the parchment back to Cas and watched his jaw drop at her response, before he muffled his laughter with his hand. He lost his composure for a solid five minutes before taking a deep breath and picking up his pen.

Well, yes, I suppose, but I’m still handsome and have no birth defects. The point is, they seem like amazing allies.

She cocked an eyebrow.

Since when have you cared for allies?

Cas nibbled on the feather of his quill for a second and then penned his reply.

Since we were thrown into this mess. A couple days ago, we needed connections that we never established. I think it’ll benefit us in the future if we make them now, especially with such influential people.

It made sense. Zephyr nodded and with a wave of his wand, Cas set their paper on fire. 

The rest of the class was a blur, the ghostly professor droning on and on about the goblin wars, which frankly she didn't care much about.

Eventually, the class was dismissed and they filed into the bustling hallway, the students giving them a wide berth as they went around them. At least they weren't being trampled to death. Sometimes, her friends’ reputations were helpful.

Cas stilled for a second, eyes searching the crowd, before he and Dorian struck, quick as serpents, and hauled two boys towards them.

Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini stared at them, confusion on their faces.

“Where the hell did you come from?” Nott shrugged Cas’ hand off his shoulder.

“We need to talk,” Cas said curtly, and waved his hand.

Instantaneously, the chatter around them was muffled. He leaned in, and six of them huddled together like it was some sort of sport meet.

“If it's about what we said earlier, calm down. We weren't defending you,” Blaise said, leaning against the wall.

His nose was sharper than she had expected, and Zephyr knew that once the baby fat had melted off his face, he would become quite handsome. His dreadlocks hung down to his chin, the green beads at the end swinging.

Theodore was silent, brown eyes coldly watching them. She could tell that he was anticipating a fight to break out. Zephyr stepped closer to Cas, just in case they did start to brawl.

Cas cocked an eyebrow, “would you be interested in defending us?”

Theodore blinked. “What?”

“I think you two would be good allies,” Cas explained with a twitch of his lips. “We need allies, especially with the mess our lives are becoming.”

“Why should we trust you?” Theodore asked lazily, but there was a spark of interest in his gaze.

Cas smiled fully now, baring his teeth, “we’ll let you in our plans and activities. Surely school is too boring? You will also share our reputations. People will fear you.”

That hit the mark. Theodore straightened and Blaise’ eyebrows shot up. They glanced at each other, a wordless conversation passing between them, before they nodded.

“All we need to do is provide you support?” Blaise asked slowly.

“Physical, magical and verbal support,” Dorian confirmed. “As well as using your influence to help us gather information when we need it. And of course, you need to keep everything hush-hush.”

Cas gave Dorian a puzzled look, “hush-hush?”

“Would you rather I used the word down-low?”

“I’d rather you not use either.”

“Shut up, buddy.”

“You shut up first, bestie.”

Theodore and Blaise watched the interaction, amusement colouring their faces.

“They're always like this,” Zephyr said with a sigh. “Ignore them. They can be childish.”

Matthias nodded in sympathy, “Zephyr holds our leashes and tightens it when we step out of line.”

Blaise held out a hand, “you are interesting. I accept your terms.”

“As do I,” Theodore inclined his head.

“Give me your hands,” Cas said, pulling out his wand and slicing a thin cut across his palm. 

Blood welled from the wound and the two boys’ eyes widened.

“A blood pact?” Dorian demanded. “Since when did you do that?”

“Since I took too many risks and people I cared about got hurt,” Cas snapped, eyes flickering to Zephyr.

Theo and Blaise, both pale in the face, held their hands out to Cas who slit their skin apart as well. One by one, Cas pressed his bloodied hand to theirs, and repeated the terms, followed by them agreeing to it.

The rest of them watched in an equal mixture of fascination and horror. Matthias was turning an ugly shade of green.

Once the pact was done, Cas cleaned the blood away with a flick of his wand and tucked his hand into his pockets.

“If you find a way to break the pact, I will kill you,” Cas said lightly. 

Zephyr could breathe again.

“We all know what you are capable of, Casspian,” Theo said, a smirk playing on his lips. “The four of you are so caught up in your little bubble of happiness that you don't hear the whispers.”

“Whispers?” Matthias asked. “What whispers?”

“The school is terrified of you,” Blaise said, his Italian accent making his words sound more ominous than they should have been. “They–we–are waiting for the day you snap and destroy the world. You have the power to do so.”

Theo nodded in agreement, “many of us want protection from the fallout. We are glad to accept your terms. You four are slowly changing the world, but we don't know whether it is for the better or the worse.”

“We aren't that scary,” Cas protested, in an almost whiny tone.

“You don't realise how the air crackles with your magic. All of yours. Anyone with half a brain can tell that your ability to control your spells is unheard of. No one has been this talented since…” Blaise paused, glancing around nervously. “Since You-Know-Who.”

Zephyr gaped at the two boys. They were comparing them to Voldemort?

Dorian sniffed haughtily, his ego stroked, “yeah, well, we know.”

Matthias raised a judgmental eyebrow, “whoa there, cowboy, don't get ahead of yourself, future Dark Lord.”

“Cowboy?” Harlot echoed, annoyance in his voice.

Cas closed his eyes briefly, trying to stifle his laughter. “As I said, the list grows on.”

Zephyr groaned, “okay, we’re going off topic. Very far off topic.”

“I can't believe it,” Theo said, huffing a sigh of amusement, “this is what you talk about everyday? Jokes and quips and childish arguments? Dear Merlin, we put you on a pedestal. Everyone is terrified of four people with a horrible sense of humour!”

“Stop overestimating us, then,” Cas said with a scowl. “We aren't monsters.”

“Yet,” Blaise said softly, eyes flickering to the shiny scar on his palm. "Chi cerca, trova."

His Italian was smooth, like water flowing over rocks and cascading down into a river.

Cas furrowed his brows," what does that mean?"

"Whoever seeks, finds," Blaise told them. "You seek a dark path and you will find it."

They paused, an awkward silence blanketing them. All of them were speechless–Zephyr knew their collective thoughts; they weren't ever going to be monsters.

Right?

“Okay!” Dorian clapped his hands together, “time to go, weirdos.”

The wards around them dissolved.

The noise of the now-sparse hallway filtered back in, the handful of students there running to get to their class on time.

“We should probably get going,” Zephyr said, making the boys startle, “before Professor Sprout feeds us to her plants."

---

It was a rainy morning. Cold bit into her, despite the warming charm she had casted on herself. They huddled together at the Quidditch pitch, just her, Cas and Dorian, watching Matthias shoot around on his broom. They barely could see through the heavy downpour and were drenched to the bones, in support of Matthias battling the rain.

“I know we are supposed to be supportive,” Cas began, his eyes drooping shut, “but it's too early.”

Dorian yawned obnoxiously, his breath visible in the air, “I know. The fucker better make Beater.”

Matthias swooped down, intercepting a Bludger and smacking it away with his wooden club. It whizzed back at him, the second ball coming from behind him, hurtling like a round missile.

Cas sat forward, eyes wide as Matthias didn't seem to notice the Bludger that was aiming for his back. Marcus Flint, the Slytherin captain, started to fly in, about to intercept.

Zephyr’s heart stopped in her chest and she was about to scream when—

Matthias dove down at the very last second, a blur of red hair and green Quidditch equipment.

The two Bludgers collided together with an almighty bang, and were smashed into bits, the pieces falling to the ground. Matthias steered himself up just as he was about to hit the grass, and hovered idly inches from the pitch, unsettlingly calm after almost being bludgeoned to death.

Dorian’s shoulders dropped as he let out a breath, “fucking hell, how did Arnoux move so bloody fast?”

“He better make the team,” Cas said, shaking his head in astonishment, “he’s better than them all, for fuck’s sake.”

Matthias landed, closely followed by Flint. They shook hands and the ginger turned to them, a victorious grin on his lips.

The three of them deflated, the anxiety they were carrying for the last half hour disappearing. Their friend’s head wasn't caved in, and he had gotten what he wanted.

“Dear Merlin,” Cas murmured, a hand over his eyes, “this was horrible.”

“Does this mean we have to watch him practice every week?” Dorian asked, shooting a thumbs up to Matthias down below.

Two long-suffering groans answered his question.

---

“The match was canceled,” Matthias said, storming into the common room.

“What?” Dorian asked, putting down the quill he was using to write a letter.

He had been doing that often lately, sending off message after message to someone he refused to tell them about. Cas has teased him, saying he must have a secret girlfriend, but he denied the accusation.

Eventually, they stopped pushing.

“The Quidditch match between us and Gryffindor. They canceled it. Gryffindor is playing against Hufflepuff because Malfoy injured his arm.” Matthias threw himself into a chair dramatically. “I’m sad. Harry gives us our run for our money.”

“That's a bit unfair,” Cas said, moving his knight across the board.

Zephyr frowned and moved a pawn. She watched his queen obliterate it grimly. Sacrifices must be made.

“Means you get to sit with us today!” Dorian said gleefully. 

Matthias actually whimpered.

The next day, they trudged outside into the pouring rain to take a seat at the stands, which were sheltered. It didn't actually protect them much, the near-hurricane-level wind lashing the water into their faces anyways.

The two teams walked out into the field, barely visible through the storm. She could see the bright red and bright yellow jerseys approach each other, and then the whistle was blown.

“This will be boring,” yelled Dorian over a clap of thunder as he fought to hold his taco together. Lettuce flew away when he brought it to his mouth.

Cas picked off a piece of beef from his hair, courtesy of Dorian’s food. “Must we be here?”

Matthias was leaning forward in his seat, eyes squinted as he watched the colourful blobs zoom around.

“Fuck this,” Cas said, “Impervius!”

The rain stopped pelting her face. She sneezed the water out of her nose and reached up to wipe away the droplets from her cheeks.

Zephyr couldn't really hear the commentary through the rumbles coming from the heavens. She leaned back in her seat, feeling the puddle of water that had collected seep into her pants. Goosebumps erupted across her skin and she shivered, leaning into Cas to steal his warmth.

Matthias ooo’d and ah’ed as the game went on, the rest of them too busy fighting mother nature’s wrath to actually pay attention. Cas’ nachos had ended up on the ground and the boy was watching them soak up the rainwater and turn soggy in dismay. Dorian was using the rain to his advantage to make mashed potatoes.

After what felt like an eternity had passed, the whistle blew and a cheer rose from the stands.

“Is it over?” Cas asked, trying to wash off the food clinging to his shoes.

“No,” Matthias said, tilting his head. “Gryffindor called a time-out. They scored fifty, I think.”

The game soon came back to live and she sagged in her seat, eyes slipping shut. Screams began to ring out. Someone must have saw the snitch or something. Whatever.

“It's so cold!” Dorian complained, teeth chattering audibly.

“Guys, wands!” Cas exclaimed.

She snapped awake. Shadows flew around the Quidditch pitch, drifting too low to be students.

“Dementors,” Matthias gasped.

There must have been at least a hundred of them, an ocean of darkness congregating on the pitch.

“Seems like they're sports fans.” Dorian drawled, “Lumos.”

“Shall we?” Cas asked, standing. “Check this out. Expecto Patronum!”

From the tip of his wand shot out a silver dragon. It was a good thirty meters long, with jaws so large that it could have eaten all of them whole. Shocked exclamations echoed across the crowd as students noticed the creature.

“That's your patronus?” Dorian choked out as the dragon turned its spiked head towards the Dementors and huffed out wispy threads of smoke. “Holy shit.”

Cas shrugged. “Blackthorn.”

“You can't just explain this away with ‘Blackthorn’!” Matthias’ mouth hung open. “This is the coolest shit I’ve ever seen! Honestly, since you're American, I assume you had an Eagle.”

Cas pulled a face.

“Mine is so boring in comparison,” Zephyr said with a sigh. “Expecto Patronum.”

Her firefly exploded out, wings beating the air, the entire row of seats doused in its light. It joined Cas’ dragon, swooping down towards the Dementors.

“Expecto Patronum!” Dorian exclaimed. “Don't laugh.”

A magnificent peacock hovered in the air. It frilled its feathers vainly and dove down to join its friends in terrorising the Dementors.

“Y’know what, I’m not surprised,” Cas said, craning his neck to watch the show.

Demetors flocked to the sky, practically running away from Cas’ dragon who was having a field day chomping them in half.

“Oh, Merlin,” Matthias said, stifling a giggle. “It fits you so well. Expecto Patronum.”

Matthias’ was…

“What is that? A goat?” Zephyr asked, puzzled.

The goat bleated soundlessly, its goatee swaying in the wind.

“Shut up.” Matthias sighed. “Yes, it's a goat.”

“That's adorable,” said Dorian teasingly.

“I hate you guys.”

The four Patronuses made quick work in chasing the Dementors away. Most had turned tail and ran when Cas’ dragon appeared.

“Woah, incoming!” Dorian yelped.

Someone tilted sideways off their broom and began to plummet to the ground. Zephyr threw a hand up to cover her eyes. “Nope, not seeing this.”

Cas nudged her, “Dumbledore caught him. Harry’s the one who fell.”

She cautiously peeked through her fingers. “Oh. Oh, oh dear.”

Dumbledore had indeed sprinted out onto the Quidditch pitch. He was levitating a motionless Harry gently to the ground. Several other teachers and the rest of Harry’s team congregated onto the unconscious boy.

“Well, that's the match over,” Cas said, dissolving his patronus. “I want to take a nap.”

“And I have a letter to finish,” Dorian grumbled.

Chapter 38: 3.12

Summary:

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Theodore and Blaise were right–there had been many people who wanted alliances with them. The first was Hannah Abbott, a blond Hufflepuff girl with a shy smile. She approached them slowly, hesitation written all over her face.

“There are rumours that there is something evil rising,” she began, voice trembling. “The dead are going missing from their graves. My grandmother was missing when we went down to pay her our respects. Someone had dug her up–there was a mound of soil beside the grave and her coffin had been shattered. Many of the other pure-blood families are victims as well.”

Hannah’s eyes were fearful but determined as she stared at them. They were seated in the library, books scattered around their table. Zephyr was completely speechless at Hannah’s words–it wasn't expected; the four of them were just doing some research.

Matthias and Dorian exchanged looks, but Cas’ quill never paused, seemingly uncaring about the words the girl was saying.

It was supposed to be an uneventful afternoon.

She continued shakily, hands twisting in front of her, “I’m not sure what a deal with you will entail, but I will do whatever it takes to ensure me and my family’s safety for the future.”

Cas did not look up. The silence that ensued was uncomfortable; suffocating even, and Hannah’s eyes filled with tears as she turned away, regret written on every inch on her face.

“Not your safety. Only your family’s.”

Cas’ voice was harsh, cold, unmoving. There wasn’t an ounce of emotion within his grey eyes as they bore blankly into the Hufflepuff girl.

Hannah flinched like he had struck her. She spun slowly, her entire body trembling. “S-sorry?”

“I can protect your family, those that are alive, that is,” Cas set down his pen, cracking his knuckles. Each pop made Hannah jump. “But the terms of this arrangement is that you will aid me and my friends any time I ask. If I require your magic, knowledge or influence, it will be at my disposal.”

Zephyr had never been so scared of Cas. She sat across from him, like she always did in the library, and the air was freezing, his magic rolling outwards in heavy waves.

It didn't help that Cas looked just a regal as he sounded–his robes were thrown over the back of his chair in an air of blatant disregard; the top two buttons of his inner shirt undone, exposing the top of his firm, pale chest; his sleeves rolled to his elbows, exposing the pulsing veins that ran down his arms; how his biceps bulged as he flipped the page of his textbook; the violence in his eyes; his hair falling to shadow his face.

It was nearly too much for Zephyr to take. She wanted to bolt and she wanted to snog the boy. Maybe she would do the second before the first. It was hard not to be attracted to Cas. She was confident every girl had a crush on him at least once.

“Wh-what does that mean?” Hannah squeaked as the full weight of Casspian’s stare landed on hers.

“You will lay down your life if I ask you to,” Cas said bluntly.

The tension in the air was unbearable. It felt like someone had seized her around the throat and was squeezing, cutting off her air. Zephyr numbly realised it was Cas’ magic making all of them feel like that.

Dorian’s blue eyes were panicked, sweat shining on his forehead. Matthias wasn't coping any better–he was clutching the table in a white-knuckled grip and his skin was paler than usual.

“Bear-wand treaty?” Hannah asked, shaking her head. “No, I-I can't make this decision without my parents—”

“If they're alive by the time the term ends,” Cas said, lips curled into a cruel smile.

A shiver ran down Zephyr’s spine. He found the poor girl’s worst fears and used it to his advantage. Zephyr knew Cas was Slytherin, but when he was all smiles and stupid, childish jokes, it was easy to forget that part of him. 

Now, watching this display of power–it was mesmerising in the way that people couldn't tear their gaze from a car accident. Horrifying but it entrapped their attention.

“Well? Willing to take the risk, Abbortt? Ready to bury your mommy and watch her climb from the grave and remember nothing but bloodlust?”

If Zephyr could speak, she would have yelled at him.

Hannah’s face was drained of blood, Cas’ words reducing her into nothing but a crying and desperate thirteen year old girl.

“No,” Hannah choked out. “I-I’m not.”

Casspian leaned back and the room grew warm again.

Dorian sucked in air, and pressed his head to the table, “dear lord.”

“I’ll sign it,” Hannah’s head lifted.

“There's no signing involved,” Cas said, wand already moving across his left palm, crimson pooling in his hand.

Hannah swayed on her feet, about to faint, but she managed to draw her blood and press her hand to Cas’.

Magic whipped around them, pages fluttering as a breeze picked up. Then, everything was settled and Cas was pulling away, wiping the blood off on a spare piece of parchment.

“Get lost, Abbortt,” Cas said softly, attention returning to his books. “You are likely to be no use to me, but I’ll find you if I need you.”

Hannah needed no further encouragement. She ran from the library, door slamming on her way out.

“That was a bit too harsh,” Dorian said tentatively, body tensed like he was ready to face Cas’ rage as well.

Cas looked up at them, a predatory glint in his eyes. He shrugged, spinning the pen between his long, thin fingers, “I don't want them to think that it's a friendship, because it isn't. It’s a political alliance, nothing more. If they ever expect me to care about them, they are mistaken. I'd rather squash that hope now than later.”

“Not like that,” Zephyr’s voice was soft but stern.

“Pardon?”

“You do not speak to people like you own them,” she met his gaze, rage sparking through her. “If you start acting like every pure-blooded Slytherin asshole, I can't be friends with you. I have been on the receiving end of those words and you of all people should understand how it feels to have your worth reduced to nothing by words.”

Cas choked on his next breath, eyes wide with shock.

“Zeph—”

“No. This is where I draw the line.”

She got up, slamming her book on Transfiguration shut. “I’m disappointed in you.”

She left her boys staring after her. Zephyr’s footsteps echoed down the hall as stormed off, a scream building in her throat.

Lockheart’s hand snaking down her underwear, Maldez’s heavy weight on her, their cruel, cruel words cutting through her.

Someone was running after her. Zephyr knew who it was but she did not stop.

“Please!” Cas cried. “Let me explain.”

“What's there to explain?” She called back. “I heard every word you said.”

Cas caught up to her and grabbed her wrist. He hauled her into an empty classroom and locked the door behind them.

She whipped around, ready to tear Cas a new one when he dropped to the ground, kneeling before her.

Zephyr faltered, the burning words that were about to escape dying on the tip of her tongue.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, head bowed. “I’m so sorry. I just…I don't have the capacity to care for more people, to have more people to lose. I’ve lost too much already. I refuse to lose more. I’m terrified of losing you. I almost did so many fucking times, Firefly.”

She recoiled at the nickname, like it physically hurt her to hear it.

“Don't stop being my friend,” Cas begged, eyes searching hers. “You're the only one that can stop me from going too far. Please be by my side forever. Please be my restrain.”

“I can't promise you anything of that sort, Cas,” she crouched down next to him with a sigh, her fondness for him overwhelming her anger. “You know the dangers. Anything can happen to the both of us. We could be dead by dinner.”

“I know,” he said, his voice broken and weak.

It was such a contrast from the overconfident boy earlier. Zephyr reached out to cup his cheek and he leaned into her touch, covering her hand with his own.

“Our loyalties could change,” she continued, “we could end up on different sides.”

“Never!” Cas shook his head. “Never.”

“Forever isn't a good promise.”

“I—” Cas glanced around desperately before he pressed a nail to his hand, to break the scab forming over the cut. “I vow to always be loyal to you, to always put you and your wellbeing first and to always remain by your side either physically or emotionally. You will forever be my number one priority.”

“Cas,” she said, staring as the thick, red liquid dripped to the floor. “You’ll die if you break the vow.”

“I know. I’m willing to.”

Zephyr was lost for words. Silently, she reached for her wand and drew a long line across her hand. Shaking, she pressed her blood against his, the warmth liquid slipping down their wrists.

He gripped her hand tightly, heated grey meeting  black, an ocean of unspoken feelings between them. 

Forever. He had bonded them together forever.

Their magic tangled together, weaving till their souls were entwined, impossible to tear apart. Cas’ magic smelt like a crackling bonfire and tasted like the whiskey that her mom gave her to try; intoxicating, bittersweet and erupting a fire in her chest.

She didn't know how long they stayed there, unmoving, in the darkness of the room where no one could come between them. 

Forever.

Chapter 39: 3.13

Summary:

hey guys

we have reached the war <3 yay

second to last chapter and then we will move on to the goblet of fire !!!

The school term was coming to an end, and that was when The Necromancer reared his ugly head. 

The four of them were summoned to the Headmaster’s office in the middle of the night, all hastily dressed and exhausted.

Dorian’s shirt was inside out. Matthias’ hair was not unlike a bird nest. Zephyr had dried toothpaste on her chin. Cas was the only presentable one, but the bags beneath his eyes showed how tired he truly was.

Dumbledore’s eyes were sad as he handed them a vanilla coloured file. Snape stood to the side, beady eyes watching as Cas took the stack slowly.

He read through it, face falling.

It told her what she needed to know and was dreading to hear. Dorian let out a heavy sigh, head hung in defeat.

“‘Mister and Missus Blackthorn were seen entering the Dizzy Broomstick, a lesser-known bar in the skirts of Hogsmead at five in the afternoon. The bar was bustling with life at the time.’” Cas swallowed. “‘The Blackthorn Lord and Lady casted several Killing Curses before Amanda Alfie, a regular patron of the bar, intervened. Sadly, she lost her life as well. In the end, there were no survivors, and several victims’ bodies were missing when the Ministry came down.’”

It was a newspaper article. Cas flipped through the rest, eyes darting across the words.

“There goes our holidays,” he said, handing the file to Zephyr.

There were over a hundred people dead in a day. She flipped through hundreds of reports, from Auror notes to snippets of the Daily Prophet, all about different wizards, most of them who had died long ago, attacking and killing people around the world. So many bodies were missing.

Zephyr passed on the file to Matthias, feeling queasy.

“The last pages identify the deceased that were taken,” Dumbledore told them softly, voice filled with remorse.

He was supposed to be the most powerful wizard alive–and yet, he could do nothing but send fourteen year olds to their deaths.

Cas grabbed her hand and she squeezed back, trying to let him know that she was okay.

“We will leave you four alone to think and plan your next move,” Dumbledore rose, Snape following behind with a scowl.

They left the room, and Cas sank into a seat.

“This is lovely,” he said, sarcasm dripping off his words. “Follow the trail of death and destruction!”

“At least we know they're nearby. All the attacks are centered in Hogsmeade,” Dorian said. “Smaller search.”

“So they are working with The Necromancer, but is The Necromancer working with Voldemort?” Zephyr asked. 

“What is this, Dark Lord X-men group?” Cas snorted.

“What's X-men?” Dorian asked.

Zephyr waved the air, “just some muggle superhero comic.”

“What's a comic?” Matthias blinked.

“A picture book with a few words,” Cas said and then shook his head. “We are way off the plot. Anyways, we can wander around Hogsmead and I’m sure we will bump into my mummy and daddy. Meet me in the Common Room in an hour.”

They headed back to their dorms to pack. Her roommates were up, all reading the papers that had been emergency-owled into the school.

As she entered the room, they stared at her, faces filled with sad realisation. Then, one of them got up, and placed a small hair clip on her bed.

“So that your hair doesn't cover your face,” she said softly. “Catch those bastards and give me my clip back.”

“We will,” Zephyr said, throat tight.

Zephyr packed light; only a few changes of clothes, tolietries and her broom was brought with her. She bid her roommates farewell and strolled down to what felt like the gallows.

Her friends were already there. Cas was chatting with Theo and Blaise, probably informing them of the situation.

As she neared, she caught the end of their conversation.

“—we’ll owl you if we know more,” Theo promised.

“Come back in one piece,” Blaise nodded to her.

“We will try,” Dorian said, shrugging.

---

Hogsmead was crawling with Aurors. Many tried to stop them but once they caught sight of Cas, they quickly backed off and allowed them to pass. The streets were crusted with crimson and the stench of death hung in the air. Store windows were shattered, glass crunching beneath their feet as they walked.

Shacklebolt met them outside the pub that was attacked, his eyes shadowed.

“We're at our wits end,” he said, rubbing his face. “We have no clue how they are getting in and out of stores without anyone seeing them. After the first attack, we put up wards to stop any Apparating but it didn't help.”

“Any new details?” Cas asked, hands tucked into his pocket.

They were bundled up pretty well, but Zephyr was still cold. She was always cold nowadays.

“We know that The Necromancer is targeting certain people–people with Masteries in Healing, Potions, the sorts. Anyone that is smart is taken. Ex-Aurors, too,” Shacklebolt winced, glancing around. “Many of our friends were killed and stolen. It’s hitting my men hard. They all want revenge.”

“What do you think this is?” Dorian asked. “An uprising? World domination?”

“War,” Shacklebolt’s voice was strained. “It is war and we will not win. They have the numbers, we do not. The Ministry is scrambling to close down Hogwarts, send everyone back by tomorrow with a group of Aurors to protect them…but if the train is targeted, nothing could save them.”

Cas’ lips were pressed tightly together. “Is there somewhere we can sit?” 

Shacklebolt gestured vaguely to the chaos all around, the smoking piles of tables, the broken bits of cobblestone.

“Fair point,” Matthias nodded. “We can stand.”

They huddled near the side of a shop, Zephyr too scared to lean against the blood-stained walls. 

“So,” Zephyr said. “What now?”

“I think we will be attacked, soon enough,” Dorian said, groaning. “There are over a dozen Aurors here. We are a target. Shacklebolt knows it tol–more and more Aurors are being called in. Get ready.”

Matthias face fell, “fuck.”

“Let's prepare,” Cas reached for his wand. “I’m sure we can use any spell we wish, but casting the Killing Curse is useless against the already dead.”

“It’s not like we can use them, anyways,” Dorian said, reaching into his bag. “We're not good enough yet. Here, some Invigoration Draughts. Theo gave me them.”

The orange liquid was surprisingly minty in taste and the world seemed to grow sharpened around her.

“It’ll keep us alert enough to not get hexxed in the ass,” Dorian explained, tossing the vial to the ground where it joined the rest of the broken glass.

There was a cry of alarm that was passed on by the Aurors. 

“Time to fight,” Cas said, rolling his shoulders back. “Don't die, yeah?”

Matthias let out a sigh.

“And join the masses?” Dorian snorted, “fuck, no.”

Matthias hopped on his broom as sailed upwards, his body tensed. Dorian headed towards Shacklebolt, who was speaking rapidly with several other Aurors.

Zephyr was about to go, too, when Cas caught her wrist, hauling her back.

“Wh—?”

His lips desperately found hers. 

They stood in a crumbling village, surrounded by death and destruction, but she had never felt warmer.

It didn't feel like their first kiss. It felt like it was going to be their last. Cas tasted like mint and coffee. He smelt like cider and whiskey. Zephyr’s hands tangled into his impossibly soft curls, wishing she could inhale him.

He pulled her closer, grip bruising on her hips. Someone screamed and they broke apart, breathing heavily.

His eyes were filled with tears as he reached behind her, gathering her hair into his hands and tied it with her hair tie he wore around his wrist.

“Stay safe, please,” he choked out. “I can't lose you.”

“Forever, right?” She whispered, pressing a hand to his cheek.

“Till death do us part,” he replied softly, sniffling.

A sob broke loose from her throat, “yeah.”

She took a step back, explosions ringing through the air, and stared at Cas, her Cas, one more time.

“Go,” she said quietly. “Be a Blackthorn. Kill them all. Think of Lockhart and Maldez.”

Cas’ eyes turned dark and he smiled weakly, “I will.”

Then, they parted, running towards the battlefield.

It was as if the gates of hell had opened. The dead limped forward in never-ending waves–there were at least a hundred of them. Every ten that were blown into pieces, fifty more rose up to take their places.

“Good lord,” she said, terror seizing her body.

“It's no good!” Someone yelled. “More keep appearing!”

A wave of fire rushed through the battlefield, a large serpent made out of flames wiping out the front of the army. It slithered through the mass, taking out dozens in its fiery wake.

“Fiendfyre,” someone muttered in awe.

“Cas,” Zephyr grinned.

From above, multi-colour lightning struck the hoard of dead. Matthias.

Two out of her three boys were accounted for. 

It wasn't like the undead wizards were useless, however. They had retained their abilities to cast spells and were tossing Unforgivables left and right, killing just as many of the alive.

Zephyr stepped forward, wand raised and she began.

“Confringo!” 

Zephyr let herself fall into the exhilaration of actually hurting people without the consequences of the action. At some point, the wall of Aurors was broken up and she was surrounded by the dead.

She spun, round and round, throwing ever spell she knew to keep them away from her.

“Expelliamus,” she cried, dropping as a green light shot over her head. 

The woman, missing half her skull, was thrown into the air. 

She fought towards where the army was marching from, determined to find The Necromancer and kill him herself.

“Expulso,” the few people were blown into smithereens, their flesh splattering across Zephyr’s face.

“Protego,” she muttered between every spell she did, trying to keep her shield erected at all times.

Since the dead did not speak, she tried to dodge most of the hexes, scared they would break her barrier with a spell she wasn't strong enough to endure.

Zephyr stepped over mangled body after body, forcing herself not to look down at their faces. She failed; she knew that this was going to scar her permanently.

More sleepless nights, whee-hee!

It took a gruesomely long time to reach the back to the army where it was the thickest. Zephyr had lost count of how many people she had killed (well, re-killed if she thought properly about it–was it even murder if they were already dead?), but she knew it was in the fifties at least.

She was branching out towards darker spells slowly, testing the boundaries of her magic, and was pleased, when she successfully casted Secare, a higher-level slicing curse that chopped someone in half cleanly.

A quick Canite Sapiunt (it exploded a wizard’s head) later, she was at the edge of the war. She couldn't see past the heads blocking her view, but she could feel the raw energy that pulsed out, filling each corpse with life.

It was terrifying and it was familiar. It reeked of sorrow, of loss, and strangely enough, smelt like the sea.

Zephyr jabbed her wand into the side of a witch without arms, and exclaimed, “Diffindo!”

The woman was completely limbless now, and rolled around on the floor uselessly chomping at Zephyr’s feet. A quick kick sent her flying and she broke out of the fight—

And her father stood there, wand raised to the sky, chanting in a language she never learnt. He smelt like Singapore; the tropical heat and the waves that crashed upon the sand. 

Her mother was bound at his feet, limp and unresponsive.

Zephyr could not move. It felt like the world was being pulled out from beneath her feet. She pitched sideways, stumbling, crashing to her knees.

She could not breathe. She couldn't think. The war faded from her mind–it was only her and her parents. 

Something grabbed her shoulder, nails puncturing her skin and the pain jolted her back to her senses.

Zephyr rolled, fueled by instinct, wand slashing down in an arch, fire exploding from the tip into the chest of a dead girl.

Her father’s chants faltered as his eyes cracked open to investigate the sound. She watched his gaze fix on her, mouth dropping open in surprise.

Zephyr was already moving. She threw herself forward, tackling her father to the ground.

They rolled, clawing at each other madly, all intentions of using magic gone. They were stripped down into their basic animalistic nature.

She punched him in the nose and he gasped, grabbing one wrist in an iron-vice grip. Another hit landed on his throat, his breathing turning gurgled, grip falling off. A sharp knee to his crotch caused him to buck but she held steady. 

Left-hook, uppercut, what the hell were those words even? All Zephyr knew was that she was beating her father into a bloody pulp and she was relishing the sting of her knuckles as she drew back her hand again and again.

“Wait!” He begged. “Stop! I can teach you to be as powerful as me. You have the same abilities. Firefly, please!”

His teeth were bloodied, but it wasn't enough. How dare he use the name her mother fondly gave her? Her mother, who was barely alive beneath his feet.

Firefly. The nickname only made her blood heat further. He grabbed her arms again, eyes pleading.

Zephyr’s next curse was wandless, slicing through bone, his hand weakening and falling off. He clutched his ribs, screaming in agony.

“Stupefy!” 

Her father’s eyes rolled up in his head. Slowly, gingerly, Zephyr got off him, wincing at the aches that seemed to reflect down to her very core.

Her mom! She rushed over, legs trembling and crumpled back down before she took her first step, right leg screaming in protest from bearing her weight. Numbly, she glanced down and nearly threw up when she saw her ankle was twisted the wrong fucking way.

She could still crawl; and so she did, hauling herself forward towards her mother’s body.

Zephyr sobbed when reached her side. There was a large gash on her forehead, brown crusting her too-pale cheeks.

She brushed a hand across her arm and tried to find a pulse. It took a couple of seconds to actually find it–weak but it was there. Her mother was still alive.

“Hold on,” she whispered desperately, “I-I’ll find help.”

Zephyr was ten again, alone in her new house in a foreign country for the first time. She was terrified and so, so lonely.

She could not breathe.

Her lungs rattled in her chest.

Her heart was pounding so hard to the point it was painful.

Blood roared in her ears.

Why couldn't she breathe?

She gasped, clawing desperately at her throat. Everything was spinning around her like she had gotten on the worst merry-go-round of her life.

Her chest was tight, too tight, a thick rope of dread that wrapped around her and was pulled taunt. Her hands tingled and she knew she was losing consciousness.

Zephyr was going to die. She was certain of it. It puzzled her as the last bit of rationality fading from her mind. She had not sustained any fatal injuries, had she? No, she would know if she did.

So, why the fuck was she dying?

“Zephyr! Duck!”

She turned, movements sluggish, when a flash of sinister green hit her—

Well, almost.

A woman levitated by her face, her skin waxy, eyes glassy, as she absorbed the killing curse for Zephyr.

The body dropped to the floor, jerking on the ground as her father’s magic combatted the Killing Curse.

Cas was running towards her, bloodied and bruised but he was alive. Relief flooded her for barely a second before the boy came crashing down, crying out in agony.

Red bloomed beneath him, spreading across the pavement, trickling across the street. Zephyr’s heart truly stopped then.

His parents stood behind him, wands pointed at him. They shared the same brown hair and pale skin, the same athletic build, the same sharp jawlines. They were as gorgeous as their son.

But they were evil.

Her vision went red.

Time seemed to move in slow motion after that.

She saw the words on his father’s lips. Cru—

Zephyr never understood love. Her mother and father never showed each other affection, and once her father was gone, her mother never tried to find another.

She loathed love. It was stupid and it made people do irrational things.

Love was why her wand was summoned to her hand wordlessly.

It was the reason why she reacted faster than she had ever done before, aiming straight for Cas’ pathetic excuse of a father. 

She didn't need a reason after that. 

Without even a sliver of doubt, she screamed, voice ringing loud and clear, “Avada Kedavra!”

Emerald shot from her wand, cutting through the air faster than she could even blink, and slammed home into Cas’ father. He went down like a useless sack of rotten potatoes.

His mother screamed, but even that was cut short when the same spell left Zephyr's lips, and his mom was dead.

Every part of her was buzzing with electricity and a dark satisfaction. Zephyr never intended to cross the line between Light and Dark, never planned to, but once she did, she felt like she was God.

Was this the start of an addiction?

Cas looked at her, eyes wide with shock but there was no fear. Understanding and gratitude crossed his features as he relaxed, rolling over.

Zephyr knew her mother was behind her, still unconscious. It was only right to tend to her own damned mother. It was her fucking mother! Her friend should never be as important as her mother.

Fuck what was right. 

She was at Cas’ side in a flash, gripping his cold hands in hers. His shirt had been ripped open–no, not just his shirt, but his side. Blood pulsed from the wound in rhythm with his heart beat.

“Don't you dare fucking die!” She shrieked, “Episkey! Brackium Emendo! Vulnera Sanentun!”

She was babbling at this point, casting every damned healing spell she had ever known.

Her boy gasped as the bleeding slowed, and she watched his skin knit back together. 

“Tergeo,” she whispered, cleaning the blood from his skin.

He sat up slowly, blinking at the scene before him. His eyes darted to his now dead parents. His lips parted.

Cas threw his head back and began roaring with laughter.

“Oh, Merlin, you killed my parents!” He doubled over, clutching his abdomen. “That is so hot.”

Zephyr’s senses returned to her at the display of normalcy. It felt like she had told him a funny joke about a classmate. It grounded her.

She scowled, “you shouldn't be this happy.”

“You killed them for me,” Cas’ eyes shone with disbelief, “you killed for me.”

“Like you wouldn't,” she muttered.

“Are you injured?” Cas asked abruptly, seemingly remembering his surroundings.

“My ankle is broken, I think,” she said with a wince.

Cas tapped his hand on her leg, “Brackium Emendo.”

Her bone snapped back into place and she flinched at the sound. 

“Ow,” she said, and rolled her foot. It felt sore still but she could use it now. “Cas! My mom!”

How the hell could she have forgotten?

She whipped around and found her father missing, the spot she had left him empty.

“Well, fuck,” she said slowly. “He was right there a second ago.”

“Who? Wait, is that Missus Slyvester?” Cas paused beside her.

Probably Miss Sylvester soon. Zephyr wasn't sure if her parent’s marriage would be successful after this.

“Oh, yeah,” Zephyr’s voice was hollow. “My dad’s The Necromancer. I knocked him out but now he's awake and he’s gone.”

“What?” Cas demanded.

“That’s the shortened version and we really do not have time for the longer one,” Zephyr raised her eyebrows at the remaining hoard.

After taking down her father, the dead fell faster, the magic sustaining them gone and by the time her attention returned to them, there were less than a dozen left. Bodies littered the ground and a vulture was feasting away on one of the corpses.

“Okay,” Cas said, nodding, his jaw set. “Let's finish this.”

Together, they made quick work of the remaining fighters, and somehow picked up Dorian along the way. The three of them cleared the last person and stopped, knee-deep in the dead.

Aurors were sobbing as they identified their fallen comrades. If Zephyr had even a piece of her heart left, she would be crying alongside them.

Any emotion within her died the moment she casted the Killing Curse.

“Erm,” Dorian said, his hair dyed crimson, “we probably should get Matthias down.”

They looked to the sky to find the speck of their friend still swooping about. He had stayed clear of the mess and had helped from far, far above.

“Probably,” Cas agreed, lips twitching upwards.

It was definitely insensitive of them but they couldn't hold back their giggles which rang through the battlefield, echoing into the night sky.

Chapter 40: 3.13

Summary:

and thats the third book wrapped up and done !!

this is a short chapter lol

Zephyr had gone through the process of writing a report dozens of times. She was fed Veritaserum, questioned and released. 

Cas and the others joined her as they made their way out of the Ministry. Hundreds of reporters stood inside, eager to snap a picture of them. 

They had floo’d away, flashes of light blinding them. She didn't remember much after that.

The week following the war was grim. Hundreds of students had lost their parents in the fight. Hundred more were injured and sent to St. Mungo.

Everyone, however, were thanking them. The news of their contribution to victory spread like fire, and they went from being shunned to heroes overnight.

“My inheritance is so annoying,” Cas said with a groan, head planted on the Slytherin table in the hall.

They were all going home tomorrow. Where home was, Zephyr did not know. Her mom was recovering in a Muggle hospital and Zephyr sure as hell didn't feel like going to her apartment.

“You're loaded, dude,” Dorian grinned. “You're Lord Blackthorn now!”

“Don't remind me,” Cas said, sighing. “What the hell even is a Lordship? I just own a heap of gold, a mansion and a shiny new title? Lord Casspian Blackthorn, son of now dead murderers, war hero, most powerful wizard of his age and a filthy rich child.”

Matthias elbowed him, “hey, being a Lord isn't too bad. We're all Lords.”

“We are still Heirs until our parents are dead,” Dorian corrected. “What about Zephyr? Is she the queen of the Dead?”

“Keep your voice down,” Zephyr said, rolling her eyes. “Do you want me to go to prison? You know the stigma around it.”

They nodded, humour melting off their faces. Necromancy was considered the Darkest and most taboo practice throughout the Wizarding World. Any text about the art was kept under strict supervision. 

Everyone was scared of a Necromancer. Zephyr didn't blame them–after all, the ability to control the dead was just...crazy.

It was playing God.

Zephyr didn't want to be God, she wanted to be a kid. Her friends and her spent hours figuring out what she could do, to unlock her ‘cool dead people powers’, as Cas had put it.

She couldn't wrap her head around the fact her father was powerful. She grew up believing he was just an average wizard, not the Lord of Death. 

What did that entail for her? Could she raise an army of corpses to do her bidding? Did she even want to?

She grimaced at the thought. Absolutely not.

“Well,” Dorian said, “we could live with my aunt. She's the only one in my family without ties to the Dark Lord.”

“You have an aunt? Since when?” Cas asked, grabbing a handful of chips.

Dorian raised an eyebrow, “since I was born?”

“Fair enough. Are you sure we can trust her?” 

Dorian nodded firmly, “yes. She was disowned by my grandparents.”

“Good enough for me,” Matthias said, sipping his coffee. “That's our holidays settled, then.”

Chapter 41: 4.0

Summary:

And I'm back!!

let's rock n roll n stuff

The formatting was a pain in the ass

 

Dorian Harlot,

It has been a long time since we've seen each other. Your sharp words are missed. My days have been dull, waiting for the pain of losing a part of me to disappear, and I long to have your wit to accompany me.

Sincerely,
Lord Voldemort.

August 14, 1994

---

Mister Voldemort,

Why the hell are you sending me letters? You have your fan club to entertain you in every way you wish.

Do not contact me again,
Dorian Harlot.

August 16, 1994

---

Dorian Harlot,

If you still take offence to the destruction of your broom, I have taken the liberty to purchase a new one for you. It has enchantments to make sure you will never slip whilst riding and it can never be hexed to harm you.

Sincerely,
Lord Voldemort.
August 31st, 1994

---

Mister Voldy,

Yeah, do you think I'm stupid? I will never accept a gift from the likes of you. I should tell Casspian about your letters.

By the way, I burned the broom,
Dorian Harlot.

September 1st, 1994

---

Dorian Harlot,

I do not think so lowly of you. I bask in the memories of when you were young, when you hung off every word that left my lips, when I put the stars in your skies.

You may deny it all you want, but you have kept our correspondences secret from your friends. You wish to protect me, regardless of the fire in your words.

Yours,
Lord Voldemort.
September 3rd, 1994

---

Volds,

Jeez, can you stop? Cas and the rest are questioning the letters now. I'm not telling them because this is weird. Full stop. You are weird. And creepy. And this is paedophilic.

Dorian Harlot.

September 8th, 1994.

---

My darling Dorian,

I am not a pedophile. I despise those creatures. I will wait until you are of age. I do not want you for your body, but for the sharpness of your mind.

Only yours,
Lord Voldemort.

September 9th, 1994.

---

Hey, Volds.

Do you know about the Blackthorns? How much do you know of them?

Dorian Harlot.
September 9th, 1994.

---

My Dorian,

The Blackthorn family originated from America. They attended the Ilvermorny school of Witchcraft and Wizarding. They are the last few remaining pure-blood families in America.

Salazar Slytherin married a Gaunt, a strong and wealthy Pure-Blooded family in the UK.

Roughly around the 1870's: one decedent of the Blackthorn family married Gabriella Gaunt, a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin.

The blood of Salazar is passed through the blood-line, merging Blackthorns with Gaunts. This is the American branch of the Salazar Slytherin family-tree. I must apologise, I could not find much.

Avalon Gaunt And Octavius Blackthorn get married and they birth one son: Casspian Blackthorn.

Do what you wish with this information.

Yours,

Voldemort.
September 11th, 1994.

---

Mouldy-shorts,

Stay away from the Blackthorn family.

Dorian.
September 11th, 1994.

---

Dearest Dorian,

I must ask you to refrain from calling me 'Mouldy-shorts'. I assure you that I practice good personal hygiene and I do not wear shorts.

I have not meddled in the Blackthorn family. I did not aid in their escape. I understand that there is no reason to trust my word, but I swear on Salazar's name I played no part in it.

Yours,
Voldemort.

September 11th, 1994.

---

Dear Voldemort,

How do you break into a low-level Wizarding prison? Can you get me information of any distant Blackthorn relatives that has been imprisoned in a small jail that is not Azkaban?

Dorian.
September 12th, 1994.

---

Sweetest Dorian,

Astria Triburt is a distant cousin of Casspian Blackthorn. She is held in WHP, Glasgow.

Whatever you are doing, I urge you to remain cautious.

Yours and only yours,

Voldemort.

September 12th, 1994.

---

Dear Mister Voldey,

Get me all the information you can get on a Maldez who works at the prison mentioned in your previous letter.

From Dorian.

September 14th, 1994.

---

Dear Dorian,

Bastian Maldez, born March 18th, 1957. His parents names are Ignacio Maldez, born on Christmas of 1922 and Bianca Arevelo, whose birthday falls on July first, 1931.

Ignacio and Bianca moved to Scotland in 1953, and Bastian was born and raised in Finniestow, Glasgow.

Bastian attended Hogwarts from the year 1968 to 1975. He was sorted into Slytherin.

January of 1976, he became an Auror and fought against my men during the war. He retired from service in 1980, and joined the prison where he works till this day.

He lives near Tilt Street, a couple blocks from the prison. He got divorced in the year 1980 from a muggle woman named Carol Hatt, born April 12th, 1960. They have two daughters, Sarah Maldez age fourteen and Nicola Maldez, age ten. Carol has full custody over their children. Sarah does not attend Hogwarts.

If you wish for me to get rid of them all, just let me know.

Yours,

Voldemort.

September 15th, 1994.

---

Dear Voldemort,

Thank you. No, Bastian's blood is not yours to spill. I will deal with him. I want you to update me with anything about Cas' parents; recent sightings, suspected attacks that they may be behind. Oh, and it's Zephyr's birthday tomorrow. Send her something.

My own,
Dorian.

September 20th, 1994.

---

My lovely Dorian,

I apologise for the late response. I have attached several Turkish Delights. I wish your friend a belated happy birthday and hope she enjoys the candy.

As for your request, there is no news on Avalon and Octavius. I will continue to search.

Yours,
Voldemort.

September 31st, 1994.

---

Volds,

Do you still have the notes on potions during your days at Hogwarts? I need the help.

Too cool for you,
Dorian.

October 7th, 1994.

---

Dearest Dorian,

This is my old notebook. It goes into detail about every subject I took at Hogwarts. I am confident it will help you.

Strive for first place, my heart.

Yours,

Voldemort.

October 8th, 1994.

---

Dear Voldemort,

What are blood pacts? Are they easy to make?

From,
Dorian.

October 9th, 1994.

---

Dearest Dorian,

Attached for your perusal are my research on blood-pacts and other types of soul-bonding.

Do not attempt them without supervision from someone experienced in dark magic, and indeed, that excludes your professors.

There still is no news on Blackthorn's parents.

Yours always,

Voldemort.

October 12th, 1994.

---

Dear Voldemort,

Do you believe in Divination?

Down with the flu,

Dorian.

October 16, 1994.

---

Dearest Dorian,

Few are talented enough to even get a glimpse into the future. Fewer still get accurate insights. The rest guess and use their knowledge on current world affairs to make 'predictions'. It is all nonsensical.

Attached are some chocolate frogs with the rarer cards.

Yours,

Voldermort.

October 20th, 1994.

---

Dear Voldemort,

Happy Halloween in advance. Here's a trick for you: Werewolves can make it, but cannot see it or hold it. What is it?

If you're confused, it is not to do with any real fact. It's just a little Halloween joke.

Give me a treat,
Dorian.

October 30th, 1994.

 

---

My darling Dorian,

Happy Halloween. The dead are rising from their graves. This is not a joke. Do not go into graveyards.

Here is some toffee. Enjoy the day. Here is a fun fact about Halloween celebrates the end of Summer, originating from Ancient Celtic Times. They would light bonfires and wear costumes to ward off evil spirits.

The answer to your puzzle is Noise.

Dress up as one of my men this Halloween. It would most please me.

Yours,
Voldemort.

October 31st, 1994.

---

Dear Voldemort,

You're perverted. Anyways, thanks for the sweets. My friends loved them.

Sorry I was away for a bit. I was busy with watching my friend play Quidditch. Matthias was bummed out that the match between Slytherin and Gryffindor had been cancelled.

Dementors attacked the last match. No one died.

Tired of school,
Dorian.

November 6th, 1994.

---

Dearest Dorian,

I will see if I can solve your Dementor infestation.

Yours,
Voldemort.

November 10th, 1994.

---

Dear Voldy,

I fought a Hinkeypunk today. We were placed in some smoke and had to ignore the Hinkeypunk's calls.

Cas failed. He thought Zephyr was in trouble. Zephyr passed–she had been so frightened that she accidentally shot off a slicing curse and nearly killed it.

Matthias walked into a wall and knocked himself out. I got lost and spent an hour wandering around aimlessly. Half of my hair is burnt off.

It was a fun day.

Mourning my beautiful locks,
Dorian.

November 8th, 1994.

---

Dear Dorian,

Octavius was spotted in Exeter today. He was seen coming out of a graveyard. No one was hurt.

To defeat a Hinkeypuff, trap it in a tight space. Perform the spell 'Lumos Duo' to make it solid. Once it is, you may use a knock-back spell, or any other spell you wish to chase it away. Use a shield to avoid being pelted by its fire attacks, or just stay out of its range. When you hear a voice, turn the other way.

I assume you have read the papers? I have sent a copy in case you have not.

Yours,
Voldemort.

November 16th, 1994.

---

Dear Voldemort,

Thanks for the lead. We can't leave Hogwarts to track it down, but it helps anyways. Thank you. Yes, I know the news on bodies going missing. Creepy, isn't it?

Goosebumps all over,
Dorian.

November 23rd, 1994.

---

Dearest Dorian,

Happy December. Please stay indoors. I have bought some instant Hot Chocolate packets from Belgium for your enjoyment. Share them with your friends, if you wish.

I have also found a star-dotted scarf that reminds me of you. You are the sun and I am being blinded by your light. It is enchanted to keep the wearer warm.

Yours,
Voldemort.

December 2nd, 1994.

---

My Dearest Dorian Harlot,

It has been weeks since I sent the previous letter and there has been no response. I grow worried about you.

War is brewing on the horizon, one that I did not create nor anticipate. The Necromancer is a vile man who does not respect those he killed. He will not stop until everyone is dead. I only kill those who are in my way. I am not the monster you think I am.

Are you well? Are you safe? Are you alive? I do not wish to overstep my boundaries but I will be sending someone to keep an eye on you if you do not owl back by the morning

Yours,

Voldemort.

20th December, 1994

---

Voldy-shorts,

Merlin, relax will you? I was busy fighting in the war, thanks.

Before your bald self comes rushing down to check up on me, I am fine, my friends are all fine. We won the war, mostly thanks to Cas' Fiendfyre.

Matthias loved the broom, by the way. I have it to him from his birthday.

Exhausted,
Dorian.

21st December, 1994.

 

---

My reckless boy,

I am glad that you are well. I have conducted my own research and destroyed the Necromancer's hiding spot. My Death Eaters have gone around placing enchantments on the graves of the newly deceased to stop more of them from rising.

Perhaps my efforts is enough to aid you in the fight. Perhaps it is not. If you informed me that you were involved sooner, I would have personally landed a helping hand.

I hope your dear friend enjoys the broom,
Lord Voldy.

December 21st, 1994.

---

  Volds,

I can't believe you signed off as 'Lord Voldy'. That was funny.

Why are you writing to me? I still don't understand this whole 'friendship' we have going. What do you want?

By the way, the second term was canceled due to the war. School resumes just a bit before September.

Battered, seasoned, fried and bruised,
Dorian.

December 22nd, 1994.

---

Dearest Dorian,

I wish to gain your attention to keep me from boredom on my most lonely days. My followers have never spoken to me the way you do, and your sharp wit is refreshing.

You are fearless and it is admirable.

Have a restful holidays, my dear, I will not write during them. Your next letter will come when you resume school.

Stay safe,
Lord Voldy-shorts.

December 23rd, 1994

---

Hi Volds,

Merry belated X'mas and a happy new year. We went skiing. Cas broke his leg. It was funny.

Lazy,
Dorian.

January 1st, 1995.

 

Chapter 42: 4.1

Summary:

Here's a fun fact—I wrote this book before I wrote the rest of the series. So, tons of editing had to go into it to change their behaviours etc. My characters may feel slightly OOC at the beginning.

Hey Voldemort,

You were serious about not sending anymore letters during the holidays, huh?

Fine, ignore me then. Whatever. Like I care. You could have sent a gift.

Annoyed, Dorian.

February 2nd, 1995.

---

Zephyr slid open a drawer in the golden wardrobe and grinned down at the treasure. 

In the distance, the stadium went wild, a chorus of ‘Ireland! Ireland! Ireland!’ rising into the starless night sky. 

Dorian’s aunt was in the Quidditch stadium with everyone else whilst she snuck through peoples’ tents.

This was the second tent she had hit–the owner had made it look like the interior of a palace with sparking columns and snarling gargoyles.

So far, she had scavenged a pair of diamond earrings, a couple of designer bags and even a Rolex.

The first one had been less promising. The guy who owned the tent must've been mad because it was made to look like a cave, dripping water from the ceiling and all. 

Zephyr only managed to get a tiger-skin rug, which seemed to be the most valuable item there.

Smugly, she turned, using her hipbone to slam the drawer shut. She couldn't wait to boast to her friends. They had been all over the UK, stealing from and scamming dozens in their wake. Dorian’s aunt really didn't care about the trouble they got up to, as long as Aurors weren't knocking on her door.

Right as they entered the camp site, Cas had declared a competition to see who could find a better item. Matthias, the slightly more rational one, found the whole idea stupid, but after some nudging, he joined their little game.

Zephyr knew she was going to win this time, and as she left the tent, she snatched up a cloth-covered broomstick–the newest and most expensive model as of late.

As good as Cas was, there was no way he’d beat her.

All thoughts about winning flew straight out of her head as a fireball headed right at her.

“Protego!”

Just before the flames turned her into roast chicken, an invisible shield was thrown up around her, the fire bouncing right off and causing light to reflect off the barrier.

“Couldn't stay out of trouble, Lady Slyvester?” 

Zephyr could practically hear his smirk in his tone. Rolling her eyes, she turned, her free hand planted on her waist.

“Trouble finds me, Lord Blackthorn.”

Casspian was behind her, his infamous heartstopping loop-sided smile on his face. He was leaning against a tent pole, twirling his wand in one hand and holding a duffle bag in the other.

“I always will, Firefly,” he said, laughing when Zephyr scowled at him.

If Zephyr hadn't practically grown up with him, she would be one of the many who fall victim to Cas’ charm.

With dark brown hair, mischievous grey eyes and standing at an impressive hundred and seventy-three centimetres tall, the fifteen year old boy was bound to have many fans.

They never really talked about the two kisses they shared, and never exchanged anymore. They were only given before or after life and death situations, where the two of them weren't sure if they would be alive after.

“Thanks,” she said begrudgingly after a pause, “for, you know, saving my life.”

“Always,” Cas gave her a mocking bow. “All jokes aside–please, for god sake, be more careful next time.”

Zephyr tiptoed, ruffling his already messy hair fondly, “I know. You can't blame me for being caught off guard.”

Cas sighed and with a flick of the wrist, dissolved the shield around them, “c’mon, we should get out of here. Maybe the Aurors are onto us. Let's find Dorian and Matthias.”

He offered her a hand after he tucked his wand into his pocket, and Zephyr accepted it. Together, they ran towards the panicked crowd as the sky filled with screams and dark magic.

---

Zephyr had broken many laws in her short fifteen years of life. However, she would never be able to surpass Casspian’s record. When he was ten, he had his parents, who were mass murders, arrested by the Ministry of Magic. After that, he had committed fraud, theft and a number of other pretty crime for the sake of it.

She had met him on the first day of school, nearly running him over with her cart when she was rushing for the train. After a bit of arguing and some chess, with a sprinkle of life-threatening situations, they had become firm friends.

Cas regularly used magic outside Hogwarts, and for good reason, too. Though Zephyr would never admit it to him, Casspian was the best wizard she’d ever seen.

At the age of fifteen, he was far, far more advanced than even the seniors of Hogwarts. Zephyr was decent–she maintained good grades in all her Hogwarts classes, but compared to him? She was like a baby learning how to walk.

Despite everything, Cas rarely boasted about it. He wasn't one of her classmates, Draco Malfoy, who was constantly seeking validation from others. No, Cas had always been confident in himself and needed no reassurance from anyone.

Frankly, Cas intimidated the living shit out of her. She loved him, of course, and trusted no one more, but she was also downright terrified of him.

Zephyr had watched Cas teach himself how to apparate and disapparate a year ago. The seniors at Hogwarts could barely even do it. That was how good he was. 

Honestly, she thought that Cas was more deserving of the recognition that their schoolmate, Harry Potter had.

Now, looking at the snoring boy beside her, Zephyr couldn't help but wonder how the hell someone like him could be so good.

Her two other friends were equally good. Dorian Harlot and Matthias Arnoux, both engaged in a rather heated chess game, were also practically royalty.

They were rich and they were the children of darkness. Cas and her helped Dorian get his family arrested in their first year of Hogwarts. Matthias Arnoux had struck a deal with them in their second year in exchange for their protection.

They had boarded the Hogwarts express a couple of hours ago and Cas had drifted straight off to sleep, using his Slytherine tie to cover his eyes.

Zephyr resisted the urge to poke Cas. 

Her other two boys were busy yelling at each other; ‘ that was an illegal move, Dorian! ’ ‘ No, it wasn't! ’

She squirmed around in her seat for a minute or so, then gave up and snuck out of the train carriage to aimlessly wander down the hallway.

Zephyr snuck peeks into each cabin as she passed, bored out of her mind. Outside, the world zoomed by in a blur of greens and blues, a dance of forest, sea and sky. She remembered being breath taken by the view the first time she had boarded the Hogwarts express as a Year One student.

She stumbled over a bit of loose carpet and refocused her attention back to the front, determined not to trip on the first day of school.

Zephyr grimaced when she noticed who was walking towards her.

Draco Malfoy didn't say or do anything to her, mainly because of her friendship with Cas, but she could feel his eyes burn a hole through the back of her head as she squeezed by.

She didn't understand what his problem was with her. Zephyr had barely even talked to Draco before. They shared classes but that was it. Maybe he still held a grudge against Cas for threatening him on the first day of school?

God, she would kill to pickpocket the guy.

Zephyr watched him leave before she allowed herself to relax. He gave her the creeps.

Glancing into the window of the cabin that she had been leaning on, she gave a small grin when she noticed the occupants.

Ronald Weasley slid the door open, “‘ello, Zephyr!”

“Hey-a,” she said, winking at Hermione when she noticed that she was reading a book that she had recommended to the girl. “How’d you find it?”

“Great!” the brunette straightened up, eyes sparkling, “I’m at the part where he finds the crown and realises that his father was actually the King.”

“Gosh, I love that book,” Zephyr said, wistfully wishing that she could find another book that was similar.

It had put her into a readling stump for an entire month– that was how good it was. Cas had made fun of her when she had complained about not being able to read a new book after that.

“Where's your other half? And the blond, rude one?” Harry asked teasingly as he tore open a chocolate frog.

“Abandoned in his sleep,” came a very familiar and very irritating voice from behind her. “As for Harlot and Arnoux, they’re currently adding to sound pollution.”

Cas snaked an arm around her torso and pulled her back flush against his chest, his chin dropping to rest on top of her head.

Zephyr rolled her eyes, “wished you stayed asleep for longer.”

“Aww, I love you too,” he said and she elbowed him in the stomach.

He released her and Zephyr turned around, laughing when she saw how crooked his tie was.

“Turning sixteen and still unable to tie a tie,” she teased, undoing the knot he had made.

Cas had been born at the end of August, so they just chucked him with their year, so he was the oldest instead of the youngest.

He watched her through hooded eyes before glancing up at the Golden Trio, “how has your holiday been?”

As they filled them in, Zephyr raised an eyebrow when they said they were at the Qudditich world cup as well.

“—and some asshole stole my blanket . Who steals blankets?” Ron exclaimed.

Cas and her exchanged amused looks. 

“Terrible,” Cas said, nodded solemnly and coughed as Zephyr tightened his tie.

“Bit tight, Firefly,” he said, sounding slightly choked.

Zephyr grinned, not bothering to pretend like she had done it by accident and loosened it slightly. Smoothening the green and black striped fabric out, she took a step back to check if it was straight.

“Thank you,” Cas flashed one of his genuine smiles at her, one that he gave to almost nobody, and she found herself grinning back.

“Want a lolly?” Harry offered the candy to her.

She plucked it out of his hands, “yes, please. Anyways, I’ll see you at school. Bye!”

Zephyr grabbed Cas’ elbow and pulled him with her, knowing that if she left him there, he’d disappear off somewhere and land himself into detention.

“Eager to be alone with me, Miss Sylvester?” The teasing tilt in his voice made her want to murder him.

“In your dreams, Casspian.”

“We partake in more scandalous activities in my dreams, Firefly.”

Zephyr’s face flushed and she shoved him through an open doorway, storming down the hallway. She could hear him laughing as he trailed after her.

Asshole , she thought, heart racing from his comment.

---

They arrived at Hogwarts several hours later, with Zephyr begrudgingly forgiving Cas for his comment after he bought cookies for her from the snack cart.

The students filed into the Great Hall, and as per usual, Zephyr and Cas sat across from each other at their table, and like always, everyone avoided them like the plague. The seat next to Zephyr was occupied by Dorian, with Matthias across from him.

That was their rag-tag group of friends. Theo and Blaise were sitting further down with Draco, but six of them were on good terms.

“ Psst !”

Sighing, she looked up, an eyebrow quirked, “yes, Cas?”

“We have a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher!” the boy said, looking dismayed. He preferred Lupin.

“Who is the new one?” Matthias asked, perking up.

“Dunno,” Cas ran a hand through his hair and slumped down in his seat. “Merlin’s beard, I hate that they change teachers every year. I have to prove time and time again that I’m capable of more than what is taught.”

Dorian snorted, “humble as always.”

Cas had the tendency of either sleeping in class or reading ahead of syllabus in his classes. Normally, the teachers who had him since year one wouldn't bother him, since they knew Cas was practically a genius. However, having new teachers meant that he was going to be scolded.

Before she could reply, the doors of the Great hall opened and a hush fell over the room. Zephyr pivoted in her seat.

Prof’ McGonagall was leading a line of terrified-looking first years towards the front of the room. Zephyr smiled at one that locked eyes with her. She remembered being scared but excited when she was sorted.

Professor McGonagall set a three-legged wooden stool in front of the first years, the fraying Sorting Hat on it.

Zephyr smiled as she recalled when she had been sorted herself. She had only discovered who Casspian was, and noticed how everyone gave him a wide berth. She did not know exactly what compelled her to do it, but she had begged the hat to let her be with Cas.

Straightening the green scarf around her neck, she leant forward to examine the first years.

Then, the Sorting hat began singing.

“A thousand years or more ago, when I was newly sewn, there lived four wizards of renown,  whose names are still well known: Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor, Fair Ravenclaw, from glen,  Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad, Shrewd Slytherin, from fin. They shared a wish, a hope, a dream, they hatched a daring plan to educate young sorcerers.”

“Thus Hogwarts School began. Now each of these four founders formed their own house, for each did value different virtues in the ones they had to teach. By Gryffindor, the bravest were prized far beyond the rest; For Ravenclaw, the cleverest would always be the best; For Hufflepuff, hard workers were most worthy of admission; And power-hungry Slytherin loved those of great ambition.”

“While still alive they did divide their favourites from the throng, yet how to pick the worthy ones when they were dead and gone? ‘Twas Gryffindor who found the way, he whipped me off his head. The founders put some brains in me so I could choose instead! Now slip me snug about your ears, I’ve never yet been wrong, I’ll have a look inside your mind and tell where you belong!”

Zephyr clapped along with everyone, more out of politeness than approval–the song he sang when she was a first-year was still the catchiest–and then snuck a glance at Cas. The boy had his nose stuck in a thick leather book, probably reading about some ancient spell.

The only reason why Cas hadn't been sorted into Ravenclaw was because he was too cunning and manipulative to be a Ravenclaw. He had a twisted moral compass and Zephyr would forever be grateful that she was his friend and not his foe.

The first kid who was sorted, a boy named Stewart, was placed into Slytherin. Zephyr cheered when he slid into the empty seat beside Dorian.

“Welcome to the family,” she said, smiling as comfortingly as she could.

The poor kid flinched like she had struck him, “t-thank you.”

“I’m Zephyr,” she introduced. “Fourth year.”

“Stewart Ackerley,” he replied, eyes flirting around the room like he was trying to find an escape route.

She couldn't remember if she had been as jittery as he was on her first day. Sure, she had been nervous, but she had the ability to adapt and fit into her surroundings pretty fast. The only reason why she didn't have many close friends was because everyone was scared of Cas, and he was constantly with her.

“Baddock, Malcom,” Professor McGonagall called out.

“SLYTHERIN!”

Their table erupted into cheers and whoops yet again as a scrawny boy hurried over.

Cas did not look up even once throughout the rest of the sorting ceremony, religiously pouring over his book. Zephyr wondered why he hadn't read it on the train. He had lounged around and harassed them into a game of Uno–which she lost five times–instead.

Finally, the last first year was assigned a house–Hufflepuff–, and Zephyr sat forward, eagerly waiting to snatch up a drink. She was parched!

Then, Professor Dumbledore stood, arms spread to his side dramatically like he was going to declare a new law.

Groaning, she slumped back down in her seat.

“I have only two words to say to you,” he boomed. “Tuck in!”

“Oh, thank fuck !” Dorian exclaimed as the once-empty golden plates before them filled with food.

Zephyr took an apple and threw it at Cas’ forehead.

It bounced off and he looked up, a dark glare on his face. When he realised it was her who had hit him, the anger faded into mischief and he mouthed, “ you better watch out .”

She stuck out her tongue at him childishly before turning back to grab another apple, for her own consumption this time. Cas returned to his book, scooping a glob of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

Zephyr didn't eat much. She had lost her appetite after being Crucio’d and she really couldn't stand to eat any meat after the war. She however, guiltily scooped a serving of chocolate pudding onto her plate when dessert appeared, and ate small bites as the rest of the Slytherin polished off the rest.

Matthias was chatting about the Quidditch game, how the Cannons were losing and he was pissed at their plays. The three of them nodded at the appropriate intervals, all tuning him out.

He was the only one who cared for Quidditch.

When everyone had finished eating, Professor Dumbledore stood yet again to address the room. Instantly, everyone fell silent, the sound being the rain pounding against the glass and thunder rumbling overhead.

“So!” said Dumbledore, smiling around at them all. “Now that we are all fed and watered, I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices.”

Yawning, Zephyr sipped on her chocolate milk.

“Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and EverBashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch’s office, if anybody would like to check it.”

The corners of Dumbledore’s mouth twitched. 

He continued, “as ever, I would like to remind you all that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year.

She hid a smile at that. Cas had snuck them to the village dozens of times over the two years.

“It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year.”

This raised a clamour of protests from the students, Matthias practically screaming in horror.

Dorian groaned loudly, “shut up, Arnoux.”

“But—!”

“This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers’ time and energy–but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts—”

Professor Dumbledore was cut off mid-sentence as the doors to the Great Hall slammed open.

A man stood in the doorway, leaning upon a long staff, shrouded in a black traveling cloak. Lightning flashed above them, illuminating the stranger.

Zephyr automatically looked over to Casspian–a habit she had gained over the three years of being his friend. He had his book half closed, his thumb stuck between the pages as an impromptu bookmark. The boy had a cold, calculating look on his face as he cooly examined the man. 

Matthias’ head was in his hands, too busy grieving the loss of his beloved game. Dorian threw him a bemused look before leaning forward to whisper to Cas.

The man lowered his hood, shook out a long mane of grizzled, dark gray hair, then began to walk up toward the teachers’ table. A dull clunk echoed through the Hall on every other step. He reached the end of the top table, turned right, and limped heavily toward Dumbledore.

Another flash of lightning crossed the ceiling and Zephyr saw his face. It was marred with scars, as if a dog with scalpels for teeth had gone at him like he was a chew toy.

One of his eyes was a prosthesis, and it randomly swivelled around the room as he limped up to Professor Dumbledore.

They shook hands and Zephyr narrowed her gaze. Something about him seemed familiar to her. The man sat down next to Professor Dumbledore and began digging into a plate of sausages.

“May I introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?” Professor Dumbledore said cheerfully, ignoring the tension in the room. “Professor Moody.”

“He sure looks moody,” Cas whispered as he slid into the seat beside her, forcing poor Dorian to scoot aside to make space.

The blond scowled at the brunette. “I was sitting here first.”

“Well, I want to be next to Zeph’,” Cas stuck his tongue out childishly.

“How the hell did you cross over here so fast? Did you crawl underneath the table?” She smacked him across the shoulder for making her jump.

Cas fixed her with his wide-eyed, innocent look that got teachers excusing his tardiness to classes. She was about to hit him again, or something, when it struck her. Zephyr straightened up, leg bouncing rapidly as she tapped Cas’ arm repeatedly to get rid of the sudden excess energy.

“Go on, then,” he looked bemused, propping his head up using his arm. 

She tried to collect her thoughts to form some sort of comprehensible sentence, “he, I, he’s—”

Cas nodded encouragingly, “yeah?”

This was one of the many reasons why Zephyr loved him: he understood how her brain worked. She had been diagnosed with ADHD during the Holidays and it made sense why had always been scrambling to convey her thoughts to others, especially when she was excited.

“He's Mad-Eye Moody,” she finally got out and grinned victoriously. “Ya’ know, the Unforgivable curse hunter.”

Recognition dawned on Cas’ face and he snapped his fingers, “you're right! Damn, I am getting rusty. Wasn’t he in retirement or something? What’s he doing teaching kids?”

Satisfied that she managed to get her thoughts out coherently, she fell silent, leaning against Ca side.

Dorian nodded, trying to coax their ginger friend out from his sorrow, “yeah, Moody was there during the war last year.”

“As I was saying,” Dumbledore said, smiling at the sea of students before him, “we are to have the honour of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year.”

“You're joking !” Fred Weasly, Ron’s older brother, exclaimed loudly enough for the whole hall to hear.

Laughter broke the apprehension in the room, and just like that, the students were at ease again.

“I am not joking, Mr. Weasley,” he said, “though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar.”  

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly.

“He hangs out with people during the holidays?” Cas looked flabbergasted at the idea that teachers were also people, and had hobbies outside academics.

“Yes, Cas,” Dorian replied drily. “He has friends unlike you.”

The boy flicked a strand of dark hair out of his eyes and glared half-heartedly at him, the corners of his lips curved upwards, “are we not friends, Zephyr?”

“Are we?” she teased and was rewarded with an exaggerated sigh of disappointment. 

“—ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament,” Professor Dumbledore was saying, “well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely.”

“The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks.”

“The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities–until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued.”

At the words ‘death toll ’, Cas perked up, looking interested. He, apparently forgetting to act hurt from Zephyr’s earlier comment, grinned at her enthusiastically.

“There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament,” Dumbledore continued, “none of which has been very successful.”

“However, our own departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt.”

“We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that this time, no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger.”

“The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money.”

A thousand Galleons? What was a school student supposed to do with that amount of money? Zephyr couldn't even imagine what she would use it for, but, as she glanced at Casspian, she could tell that he already had an idea in his mind.

Not that he needed it. Dorian and Cas were loaded with generational wealth. A thousand Galleons was like a daily budget for them. Matthias’ eyes, however, were wide with greed. The poor guy, although from a well-off family, wasn't exactly on great terms with his parents after they tried (multiple times) to kill him.

“Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts,” he said, “the heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year.”

“Only students who are of age–that is to say, seventeen years or older–will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration.”

Cas and Dorian let out simultaneous groans.

“This is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion. I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen.”

Uh, oh . Going by the sudden spark in her friend’s grey eyes, she knew that he was going to do something stupid. She didn't doubt that he would be able to submit his name as a contender and get around Professor Dumbledore’s enchantments.

“Cas,” Zephyr warned.

“What?” Cas protested.

“The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year.”

“I know that you will all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!”

Groaning, Cas slumped against her shoulder, and whined, “I dun’ wanna part from you.”

The two of them had spent every waking moment together during the holidays, and even slept in the same room in Dorian’s Aunt’s house. She was horrified but when her nephew informed her it was totally normal for them, she turned a blind (and judgmental) eye. 

Zephyr couldn't sleep without Cas by her side. The nightmares plagued her every damned night. Cas always knew how to calm her down after she woke up screaming. He was the only one who knew how to.

Her palm, where they had sealed their blood pact, buzzed with warmth everytime Zephyr touched Cas. Her body craved his companionship like a drunk needing alcohol. Was it possible to be addicted to a person?

She pushed Cas off gently and giggled when he pretended to lose his balance as he got up.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning, yeah?” Cas said, and his handsome face suddenly solemn. 

He dug out a tissue-wrapped item from his robes’ pocket and pushed it into her hands, “eat this. An apple won't fuel you until tomorrow. You deserve to eat, Firefly.”

She exhaled shakily, “curse you and your perceptiveness.”

Cas winked, “my best quality, of course.” He held out his arm with a flourish, “may I escort m’lady back to her chambers?”

His attempt at a British accent was so atrocious that Zephyr couldn't help but laugh, sliding her hand into his as he pulled her up.

Together, they made their way towards the Slytherin tower.

Chapter 43: 4.2

Voldertmort,

Why the hell did you attack the Quidditch cup? I broke my damned arm running from your henchmen.

Was that why you were silent? Were you planning this crap?

With a lot of hatred,
Harlot.

26th August, 1995.

---

The next day was gloomy, but Casspian’s surprising cheer made up for it. He had been waiting at her seat the next morning at breakfast, and perked up when she entered the hall with Matthias and Dorian in tow.

They weren't sure why Cas had gone ahead of them, but suspected he wanted to speak ro Theo and Blaise about something.

Cas waved a sheet of parchment in the air and Zephyr winced at the odd looks he was receiving from the year ones who had no idea who he was yet. However, it didn't stop them from liking Casspian.

She had overheard a bunch of first year Griffendor girls giggling about Cas earlier.

He did look incredibly dashing today. His brown hair was in its usual mess, locks falling into his eyes. His tie was loose and crooked, making him look like those bad boys in cliche American high school shows.

Cas’ face was free of its usual scowl, making him look extra handsome–high cheekbones, sharp jaw and a dusting of freckles over his nose.

“What's that?” she asked, plucking the paper from his grip.

He had an identical sheet in front of him and he poked her, “we have a great schedule this time. Look, the classes aren't too long and we have twenty minutes between the heavier subjects like Potions.”

“We do?” Zephyr cross-examined their schedules and realised he was right.

Dorian grimaced, reaching for the paper, “three hours on a Monday morning with Binns? Damn, do they want us to die?”

“I think they want us to get extra sleep,” Matthias reached for a toast.

“Eat,” Cas suddenly said, pushing a plate of steaming scrambled eggs in front of her.

She gave him a pleading look, “you know I don't like having breakfast.”

“Eat half, then.”

“A quarter.”

“One-thirds,” Cas crossed his arms, eyes narrowed at her. “Or else I won't lend you my book.”

Unfair. The boy knew how to get her to give in.

She sighed, picking up a spoon and aggressively shoved a scoop of eggs into her mouth, maintaining eye contact with Cas as she chewed.

The boy, used to her passive-aggressive ways, only smiled back.

Zephyr gave up a few mouthfuls later and refocused her attention onto her schedule, “Herbology with Hufflepuff first, then Care of Magical Creatures with Gryffindor. Eh, not bad.”

“Double Study of Ancient Runes with Ravenclaw after that,” Dorian sniffled, “boring.”

“Which is the boring one, Study of Ancient Runes or Ravenclaw?” she asked, laughing.

“Both,” Cas said with a sigh.

Cas, thanks to his insanely good memory, had memorized every Rune and their meanings in one week over the holidays, and now regretted taking the subject because it was ‘less interesting than he had thought.

Mattjias nodded, “I’d rather every lesson to be DADA.”

They had developed a habit of calling the Defense Against the Dark Arts ‘DADA’  just because the class was a mouthful to say.

Before Zephyr could reply, a deafening mix of paper rustling and wings beating filled the room.

Thousands of owls soared into the Great Hall, each carrying envelopes and packages of some sort.

An owl, or specifically, a Boreal Owl, landed in front of Zephyr after dropping a package right into her scrambled eggs. Her mother’s owl, Herrinton, haughtily ruffled his feathers, let out an ear-piercing screech and flew off.

Herrington’s wings slapped her cheeks as he dove past her.

Cas cracked up beside her and she sighed. She didn't know why the owl hated her so much.

Removing the rectangular package from her breakfast, she discarded the cheese-soaked brown paper wrapping and grinned at the contents.

“Look!” She exclaimed as she took out four identical knitted Slytherin Green hats from the box.

“Ooh!” Dorian snatched up one, eyes gleaming. “Thank you Missus Sylvester!”

The blond always loved her mother–maybe it was because he lost his family when he was only eleven.

Matthias nodded in thanks, always the polite one, and slipped the beanie over his hair, red locks poking out from beneath. “It's not scratchy. That's nice.”

“Let me see how it looks on you,” Zephyr turned to Cas eagerly.

Casspian bent down to let her put the red beanie onto his head and then straightened up when she was done. 

Zephyr’s jaw went slack as she stared at Cas. With bits of his hair poking out from underneath the cap, he looked…cute.

Cute wasn't the first word she’d use to describe Cas. He was good-looking, handsome and maybe even hot, but cute? Never.

Until now.

“I want to see it on you,” he said, pulling the other one over her hair.

“Whaddya think?” she asked, feeling the neat needlework of the hat.

Pink spread over his cheeks and he cleared his throat, glancing away. He mumbled something.

“What?” she leant in.

“I said you look good.” Cas was refusing to look her in the eyes.

“Ooh,” Dorian wiggled his eyebrows. “He thinks you look good!”

The embarrassment on Cas’ face made him extra cute and she resisted the urge to pinch his cheeks.

Zephyr had to slowly work him out of his shyness throughout the rest of breakfast.

---

Thankfully, by Herbology, Casspian had returned to his normal, slightly brooding, self, and was glaring at the plants like they were the source of all his troubles.

The plants looked like the slugs that she had used when she went fishing with her boys a couple of weeks ago. They squirmed, a mess of black stems, protruding from the soil as if clawing its way to the surface.

“Bubotubers,” Professor Sprout told them briskly. “They need squeezing. You will collect the pus—”

“The what?” said Matthias, sounding revolted. 

Beside her, Cas looked equally disgusted and faked a gagging sound.

“Pus, Arnoux, pus,” said Professor Sprout, “and it’s extremely valuable, so don’t waste it. You will collect the pus, I say, in these bottles. Wear your dragon-hide gloves; it can do funny things to the skin when undiluted, bubotuber pus.”

That seemed to capture Cas’ interest as he reached for the plant, hands unprotected and Zephyr quickly slapped his arm away, fixing him with a dark look.

He pouted at her and she silently nodded over to the gloves on the table. Reluctantly, the boy slunk over to slip them on.

She wore her own and prodded at the plant, weirdly fascinated by how it squirmed under her finger. It felt like it had proper muscles that allowed it to move, which was definitely out of the ordinary.

Regular, muggle, plants had no ligaments. Instead, to help maintain structural support, their xylem, the water carrying tube in the centre of the stem, had lignified walls that helped hold the plant up.

Since this particular plant didn't seem to have a hard xylem due to how squishy it looked, it must have developed something identical to human muscles.

Zephyr had always been interested in Biology and Anatomy. She loved understanding how people worked, their thoughts and everything in between their cells.

She squeezed the pus-filled bubble gently and collected the yellow, patrol-smelling ooze with a bottle. Once she finished what her teacher told her to do, she prodded the plant, feeling for a xylem or phloem or anything that gave her clues on how it transported substances around.

After a while, she gave up and decided to just assume it moved stuff via diffusion, osmosis and active transport. Stripping off her gloves, she turned to find Cas staring at her with a small smile.

“What?” she asked, tossing her gloves down onto the working bench.

“I like seeing you absorbed in your work.”

He was leaning against a table, elbows propped up behind him. She could tell that he hadn't bothered to participate in the class.

Not knowing how to reply, Zephyr offered him a grin as she went to stand beside him. They watched Dorian and Matthias struggle against their plants, throwing out unhelpful bits of advice that fell upon deaf ears.

“Yes, I know that I have to squeeze, Cas,” Matthias scowled, holding the plant in a white-knuckled grip. “I don’t see you doing it.”

“I’m bored,” Cas said, shrugging.

“Your head is stuck too far up your ass, more like,” Dorian grumbled half-heartedly. “Lord Blackthorn, too high and mighty to touch a plant.”

“Whiny children,” Zephyr muttered, the three boys frowning at her words.

Eventually, she guided the two boys to extracting half a vial of pus each, and they retreated from the Bubotubbers.

“I don't think I can eat after this,” Dorian said, green in the face.

Cas cocked a brow, “liar.”

The blond hung his head in defeat and admitted, “I’m starving.”

“This’ll keep Madam Pomfrey happy,” said Professor Sprout, stoppering the last bottle with a cork. “An excellent remedy for the more stubborn forms of acne, bubotuber pus. Should stop students resorting to desperate measures to rid themselves of pimples.” 

“Like poor Eloise Midgen,” said Hannah Abbott, a Hufflepuff, in a hushed voice. “She tried to curse hers off.” 

“Silly girl,” said Professor Sprout, shaking her head. “But Madam Pomfrey fixed her nose back on in the end.”

A booming bell echoed from the castle across the grounds, signaling the end of the lesson, and the class separated; the Hufflepuffs climbing the stone steps for Transfiguration, and the Slytherins heading in the other direction, down the sloping lawn toward Hagrid’s small wooden cabin, which stood on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. 

Hagrid, a bearded giant-like man, stood outside his hut waiting for them. Zephyr liked him–he was one of the nicest teachers in the school. Hell, once, he had caught Cas and her sneaking around at night and just turned a blind eye.

He held his dog’s collar in one hand, and several opened wooden crates were scattered on the ground around him.

Cas’ eyebrows rose, “baby dragons?”

“Killer flowers,” she guessed.

“Killer flower dragons,” Matthias said, nodding.

“That sounds pretty,” Dorian replied with a grimace.

Cas glanced at her, “pretty gruesome.”

As they drew closer, Zephyr could hear the sound of miniature explosions going off inside each crate.

“Exploding killer flower dragons, then,” Cas decided with a firm nod.

She hid a grin. He always indulged in their dumb humour.

“Mornin’!” Hagrid said. “Be’er wait fer the rest of the Slytherins, they won’ want ter miss this: Blast-Ended Skrewts!”

“A what?” Cas repeated dumbly. “Blasted who?”

“Dumbass,” she said and received a flick against her forehead.

“Come again?” said Ron.

 Hagrid pointed down into the crates.

“Eurgh!” Squealed Lavender Brown, jumping backward.

They looked like deformed, shell-less lobsters, pale and slimy-looking, with legs sticking out in strange places and no visible heads.

There were about a hundred of them in each crate, each about three centimetres long, crawling over one another, bumping blindly into the sides of the boxes.

“Oh,” Cas said, crouching down to see them better.

Zephyr readied herself to lunge at him in case he decided to stick his hand into the box. Thankfully, he didn't, glancing back at her with a grin.

The creatures were giving off a very powerful smell of rotting fish. Every now and then, sparks would fly out of the end of a skrewt, and with a small phut, it would be propelled forward several centimetres. 

“On’y jus’ hatched,” said Hagrid proudly, “so yeh’ll be able ter raise ‘em yerselves! Thought we’d make a bit of a project of it!” ”

Cas gave her a helpless look, so she quickly translated what Hagrid said.

“And why would we want to raise them?” said a cold voice. 

Zephyr knew that voice anywhere. She couldn't stop the scowl from appearing on her face as she turned to glare at Draco Malfoy.

The other Slytherins had arrived. Crabbe and Goyle were chuckling appreciatively at his words. Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini strolled across the lawn with their hands in their pockets. 

Hagrid looked stumped at the question. Casspian came to stand by her side, easily towering over them and causing Malfoy to look away.

Theo and Blaise came to stand behind them.

“Nott, Zabini,” Dorian acknowledged.

“Harlot, Blackthorn, Arnoux and Zephyr,” Theo nodded back.

She grinned victoriously, “they like me more.”

“Everyone does,” a dark-skinned girl muttered.

Cas tilted his head, “anything to add, Nathalie?”

Nathalie Jones, their former friend, rolled her eyes and returned her attention to Pansy Parkinson and Tracey Davis.

“This is stupid,” Draco ground out.

Gone waa her friend’s easy-going expression, replaced by dark hatred and a thirst for violence, like he was daring Draco to do something so Cas could hit him.

“I mean, what do they do?” asked Malfoy, backtracking a little.

“What is the point of them?” Hagrid opened his mouth, apparently thinking hard; there was a few seconds’ pause, then he said roughly, “Tha’s next lesson, Malfoy. Yer jus’ feedin’ ‘em today. Now, yeh’ll wan’ ter try ‘em on a few diff’rent things–I’ve never had ‘em before, not sure what they’ll go fer–I got ant eggs an’ frog livers an’ a bit o’ grass snake–just try ‘em out with a bit of each.” 

“First pus and now this,” muttered Matthias.

“I guess the dragon thing wasn't too far off,” Zephyr said, nudging Cas with her hip to get his attention.

The boy looked down at her, his eyes still shadowed, “what?”

“You said they were dragons. I think they are similar to dragons, no?”

“Ah, hm. I suppose,” he looked thoughtful, his anger disappearing. “I mean I haven't encountered many dragons–actually, any dragons, so I can't say for sure.”

---

Cas helped her levitate a piece of liver towards her little pet with his wand in one hand, and tried to hand-feed his own with his other.

Zephyr refused to touch the snake and the liver. Not that it mattered, though. The creatures didn't have fucking mouths to eat with.

“This is dumb,” she muttered.

Cas made her piece of liver balance on a Skrewts’ head and chuckled when it dodged the meat.

“Ouch!” yelled Dean Thomas after about ten minutes. “It got me.” 

Hagrid hurried over to him, looking anxious.  

“Its end exploded!” said Dean angrily, showing Hagrid a burn on his hand. 

Cas reached further into the box with a sudden show of enthusiasm. He always found things more interesting when they posed a chance of killing him. Zephyr spent half the time saving him from his dumb decisions.

“No, Cas, you will not lose your fingers today,” she said with an exasperated groan, catching him by the wrist and pulling him back.

“Trying to find an excuse to touch me, Miss Sylvester?” The arrogant tilt in his tone made her want to shove his face into the box.

Over the holidays, the boy had developed a strange confidence, after one too many romance novels. Zephyr spent most of their interactions cringing at him. Hopefully it would be a phase he grew out off.

She offered him a dark glare in return.

“Eurgh!” said Lavender. “Eurgh, Hagrid, what’s that pointy thing on it?”

“Ah, some of ‘em have got stings,” said Hagrid enthusiastically.

Dorian quickly withdrew his hand from the box.

“I reckon they’re the males…the females have got sorta sucker things on their bellies…I think they might be ter suck blood.”

Zephyr exchanged looks with Cas who instantly knew what she wanted. 

He flicked his wand at one of the Skrewts’ and it began levitating. Cas had mastered the ability to use majority of the spells without saying it out loud over the holidays, something Zephyr was trying–and failing–to do. She could only do a couple nonverbally, and had a low success rate on them.

Cas rotated the creature, whose legs were kicking the air pathetically, and they huddled closer together to check for the suckers.

“Casspian, put the Skrewts down,” Hagrid called out tiredly from behind them.

Cas set it back down carefully and gave her an apologetic look. 

“Well, I can certainly see why we’re trying to keep them alive,” said Malfoy sarcastically. “Who wouldn’t want pets that can burn, sting, and bite all at once?”

“Just because they’re not very pretty, it doesn’t mean they’re not useful,” Hermione snapped. “Dragon blood’s amazingly magical, but you wouldn’t want a dragon for a pet, would you?”

Casspian pursed his lips but remained silent. She knew that he’d kill to have a dragon. Honestly, so would she. Dragons were awesome.

---

An hour later, the class had finally ended and they made their way back to the castle for their next lesson.

“I’ll steal a Skrewt for you next time,” Cas promised as he held the door open for her.

Zephyr shook her head, “nah, not worth it. We’ll eventually get to examine them properly. Gods, if only I could dissect them. Imagine the skeletal structure!”

“I’m sure we can dig up a book about it from the library later,” Dorian laughed at her enthusiasm.

Their next class was the Study of Ancient Runes. Zephyr and Casspian chose the seats at the very back of Classroom Six-A, their pile of textbooks on the table in front of them.

Zephyr still couldn't believe that Cas had managed to memorise all five textbooks within a week.

She was taking a longer time to memorise the Rune Dictionary, and often had to refer back to it as she slowly and painfully translated Rune texts.

Their teacher, Professor Bathsheda Babbling (what were her parents thinking when naming her, Zephyr wondered), swept into the class five minutes late, causing the chatter to die down as she entered. She was a middle-aged woman with frizzy silver hair and pink glasses.

She scrawled her name in white chalk on the board, her handwriting tight and messy, and dusted chalk dust off her hands, “my name is Professor Babbling. I will be your Rune teacher this year.”

Beside her, Casspian rested his forehead against his hands, already close to dozing off. Zephyr resisted the urge to kick his foot.

“Has anyone read up about the subject over the holidays?”

The rest of the students were silent and Zephyr didn't raise her hand, mainly because she didn't want to draw attention to herself.

“No? Okay. Let's go over the basics, then,” the teacher turned and scrawled a quick drawing of a Demiguise on the board, and a large zero below it. “This is the rune that represents number zero. Can anyone guess why?”

No one replied and Professor Babbling scanned the class. Her eyes stopped when she caught sight of Cas who was drifting in-and-out of sleep.

“Young man, since this class is so boring, maybe you can explain what this Rune is and why it is used to represent zero.”

Zephyr nudged Cas with her elbow and he lifted his head lazily, “could you repeat that?”

She wanted to duck under her desk in embarrassment. 

“The young lady beside him–could you enlighten your friend?” Professor Babbling said, crossing her arms.

Quickly, Zephyr whispered the question to him and he let out a yawn, stretched and sat up.

“That's the Demiguise. A Demiguise is a creature that can turn invisible. That's why it's used to represent zero,” Cas said, expression blank.

“I see you've done some reading,” the professor looked slightly pleased. “But it does not excuse your behaviour, Mr…?”

“Casspian Blackthorn,” he said, running a nonchalant hand through his hair.

The teacher paused at his family name. The Blackthorn family were infamously cruel and it left its mark on Cas’ reputation.

“As Casspian correctly stated, the Demiguise is used to represent zero because of its invisibility,” she drew a unicorn next to the first Rune. “The Unicorn symbolises the number one because of its singular horn.”

Professor Babbling drew a Graphorn next, a bull-like creature with two horns to represent the number two. She sketched the rest of the Runes in ascending numbers, but skipped the Rune for seven.

Once she was done, she glanced at the class, “can anyone tell me the significance of the Rune for seven?”

When it was obvious the class wasn't going to answer, Professor Babbling pointed her chalk at Zephyr.

“Casspian’s friend. Maybe you know?”

“Uh, yeah. Seven is a powerful number and not much is known about it, so the Rune for the number is represented by the Unknown,” Zephyr said.

Cas had opened his eyes when she began speaking, and gave her a nod of encouragement when she glanced at him for support.

“Very good. I see both of you have done your reading. Ms…?”

“Zephyr Sylvester, madam.”

She had dropped her father’s surname since the war. Zephyr didn't want any links to him, even though the world didn't know The Necromancer was her father. She guarded that secret with her life.

“Ms Sylvester is right. Seven is a mysterious number with an unknown amount of magical properties. In your free time, I encourage you to research more about the known properties of seven. Now, let's move onto practising how to write the Runes…”

“Show off,” Dorian said teasingly as he leaned back to copy her answers.

The rest of the class went by pretty fast, ending with them having to translate a series of Runes into numbers. Casspian finished his in three minutes and spent the other two minutes quietly watching her scribble down her answers on a parchment paper.

Once her boys were done, they dropped their work onto Professor Babbling’s desk for marking and headed out to dinner.

Zephyr wanted the year to go by faster so that the triwizard tournament would come. It wasn't like Hogwarts was boring–it sure beat normal school. However, the anticipation of something even more exciting was alluring.

“Now, we’ll go find a book on the anatomy of that Skwert after we eat.”

“Why wait?” she asked, heading towards the staircase, only to be pulled back by Cas.

“Uh-uh,” he tutted, wagging his index finger. “You have to eat first.”

“I’m not hungry,” Zephyr said, giving him a pleading look.

The resolute look in his eyes told her that he was not taking no for an answer. With a heavy sigh, she trailed after him to the Great Hall. Thank god he had persuaded her to go there. Malfoy was trying to pick a fight with Harry yet again.

They stood at the side, watching eagerly as they argued.

“And there’s a picture, Weasley!” said Malfoy, flipping the paper over and holding it up. “A picture of your parents outside their house—if you can call it a house! Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn’t she?”

“Damn, I should have brought popcorn,” Dorian said, grinning.

Matthias offered him a bar of chocolate which he gladly accepted.

Ron was shaking with fury. 

“Get stuffed, Malfoy,” said Harry. “C’mon, Ron...”

“Oh yeah, you were staying with them this summer, weren’t you, Potter?” sneered Malfoy. “So tell me, is his mother really that porky, or is it just the picture?”

“You know your mother, Malfoy,” both Harry and Hermione had grabbed the back of Ron’s robes to stop him from launching himself at Malfoy—“that expression she’s got, like she’s got dung under her nose? Has she always looked like that, or was it just because you were with her?”

“Ooh,” Dorian said under his breath. “That was good.

Malfoy’s pale face went slightly pink.“Don’t you dare insult my mother, Potter.”

“Keep your fat mouth shut, then,” said Harry, turning away.

Draco whipped out his wand and Zephyr cried out in warning, but it was too late.

BANG!

Several people screamed as a white-hot flash of light scraped by Harry. Dorian was moving forward but Matthias reached for the back of his robes and hauled him back, stepping in front of the blond boy.

“Just once,” Dorian pleaded.

Matthias snorted, “and get detention because of Malfoy? You're crazy.”

Cas reached for his own wand and she grabbed his arm, shaking her head furiously. “No. Malfoy’s not worth it.”

She heard a second loud pop, and a roar that echoed through the entrance hall.

“Oh no you don’t, laddie!”

Professor Moody was limping down the marble staircase. His wand was out and it was pointing right at a pure white ferret, which was shivering on the stone-flagged floor, exactly where Malfoy had been standing.

There was a terrified silence in the entrance hall. Nobody but Moody was moving a muscle. 

“Fucking hell, can you do that?” Zephyr whispered to a silent Casspian.

“‘Course I can,” he said, sounding vaguely offended. “I turned your chair into a cat, remember?”

“But that was a chair! This is a person,” she replied, wanting to annoy him further. “It’s vastly different. If you can’t, it’s okay.”

“I’m going to turn you into a parrot,” he declared with a glare at her.

The other two boys sniggered.

“Leave it!” Moody yelled.

Crabbe, who had just frozen, had been about to pick up the white ferret. It seemed that Moody’s rolling eye was magical and could see out of the back of his head.

Moody started to limp toward Crabbe, Goyle, and the ferret, which gave a terrified squeak and took off, streaking toward the dungeons.

“I don’t think so!” Said Moody, pointing his wand at the ferret again; it flew ten feet into the air, fell with a smack to the floor, and then bounced upward once more.

“I don’t like people who attack when their opponent’s back’s turned,” growled Moody as the ferret bounced higher and higher, squealing in pain. “Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do…”

The ferret flew through the air, its legs and tail flailing helplessly.“Never—do—that—again —” said Moody, speaking each word as the ferret hit the stone floor and bounced upward again.

“Is that legal?” Zephyr asked, not out of concern for their house mate, but out of curiosity.

“Probably?” Matthias shrugged.

“Professor Moody!” Said a shocked voice. 

“Oh no,” Zephyr said, grimacing.

Professor McGonagall was coming down the marble staircase with her arms full of books.

“Hello, Professor McGonagall,” said Moody calmly, bouncing the ferret still higher. 

“What–what are you doing?” said Professor McGonagall, her eyes following the bouncing ferret’s progress through the air.

“Teaching,” said Moody.

“Teach–? Moody, is that a student?” shrieked Professor McGonagall, the books spilling out of her arms.

“Yep,” said Moody.

“No!” Cried Professor McGonagall, running down the stairs and pulling out her wand.

A moment later, with a loud snapping noise, Draco Malfoy had reappeared, lying in a heap on the floor with his sleek blond hair all over his now brilliantly pink face. He got to his feet, wincing. 

“Moody, we never use Transfiguration as a punishment!” said Professor McGonagall sternly. “Surely Professor Dumbledore told you that?”

“He might’ve mentioned it, yeah,” said Moody, scratching his chin unconcernedly, “but I thought a good sharp shock—”

“We give detention, Moody! Or speak to the offender’s Head of House!” 

“I’ll do that, then,” said Moody, staring at Malfoy with great dislike.

Malfoy, whose pale eyes were still watering with pain and humiliation, looked malevolently up at Moody. Draco said something and Moody limped forward, the sound of his wooden leg hitting the floor echoing through the hall.

Soon, Moody had grasped Draco and hauled up to his feet, dragging him towards the dungeons.

Professor McGonagall stared anxiously after them for a few moments, then waved her wand at her fallen books, causing them to soar up into the air and back into her arms. 

“Library,” she muttered to Cas.

“Right,” Casspian shook his head and followed behind her as they headed to their seats.

They ate a quick lunch, and the two of them left Dorian and Matthias behind to go to find the book she wanted. Nothing on earth could tear Dorian away from his meal. 

“Have you noticed that he keeps getting letters and he refuses to share them with us?” Cas asked suddenly as they walked.

"Let a man keep their secrets," Zephyr said. "If it's anything of importance, surely he would share it with us. Maybe Dorian has made a new friend, that's all."

"We're the only ones with thick-enough skins to be friends with the guy." Cas said and grinned.

"You're an ass," Zephyr rolled her eyes. "Leave him be."

"Urgh, fine."

Zephyr had been to the library hundreds of times. In fact, whenever she felt like isolating herself from society, she always holed herself up in a dark corner between bookshelves. It was her safe space–nothing was going to hurt her there.

Despite being so familiar with the place, Casspian was still better at navigating the shelves because he had memorized the layout.

He passed by bookshelf after bookshelf as he strolled towards the Magical Creatures section, occasionally having to backtrack to find her when she wandered off to look at a book that caught her eyes.

Eventually, Cas found a book that contained all the information on Skrewts and pulled it down from the top shelf. 

Impatiently, she grabbed it from him and sat down on the floor, crossed-legged, and flipped it open to a page that had multiple anatomical drawings.

Cas settled down next to her, his long legs stretched out to reach the bookshelf opposite, and closed his eyes, hands tucked behind his head.

They stayed like that until the bell rang to signal that lunch was over.

Chapter 44: 4.3

Summary:

hi. im in writer's block 😔 anyways happy halloween !

Dorian Harlot,

I apologise for my long absence.

I did not anticipate that you would attend. Had I known, I would have not launched the attack that day.

Have you healed your arm? I have attached a healing potion for you, but I am certain you do not trust me enough to take it.

Has the rest of your holidays gone uneventful?

Yours,

Lord Voldemort.
September 1st, 1995

---

Potions class was amazing, as usual. Zephyr was possibly better than Casspian, since the class involved more science than magic, which was her area of expertise.

They had to make a drought of the living dead, a pitch black potion that could kill people. It was difficult to perfect, according to Professor Snape. 

Zephyr and Casspian did theirs easily, following their own instructions that they had written on their textbooks, instead of the ones that were provided. They had spent part of their break mastering certain potions by trial and error. It was mostly errors, but in the end, they had rewritten the entirety of their potion’s textbook instructions.

By the time the lesson had ended, they were the only two who had managed to make perfect cauldrons of the drought of the living dead, receiving a “hmph” from Snape and no homework.

Dorian’s cauldron had exploded mid-way and he was to redo the potion, which set him and Matthias back. Their faces were stormy by the end of the class.

On Thursday, it was their first DADA lesson. Casspian, as per usual, couldn't give less of a fuck about the class. Zephyr, on the other hand, was practically bouncing off the walls (and even punched Cas several times) from excitement.

As they lined up outside the classroom with the Gryffindors, Cas finally had enough of her hyperactivity and pulled her against his chest to keep her still.

“Lemme go,” she struggled half-heartedly against his grip.

Cas only rested his chin against her head and laughed, “absolutely not. I think you're three steps away from throwing yourself out of the window and spontaneously combusting.”

Dorian grinned, “that would be amusing.”

“I am fine.” She scowled at her friends.

"Please don't jump out. Cas will follow you and you both will be in the Infirmary," Matthias said.

Before they could continue to argue, the bell rang. Cas released her and she glared at him, smacking him across the shoulder. They made their way into the classroom to the seats at the very back, Casspian holding his shoulder with a wince.

He didn't bring his textbook along with him because he had, unsurprisingly, memorised and mastered every spell in the book. Zephyr would be surprised if he couldn't do any spell at all.

Soon they heard Moody’s distinctive clunking footsteps coming down the corridor, and he entered the room.

They could just see his clawed, wooden foot protruding from underneath his robes. 

“You can put those away,” he growled, stumping over to his desk and sitting down, “those books. You won’t need them.”

Zephyr sighed and did so. She should just adopt Cas’ style of being unprepared for every lesson.

Moody took out a register, shook his long mane of grizzled gray hair out of his twisted and scarred face, and began to call out names, his normal eye moving steadily down the list while his magical eye swivelled around, fixing upon each student as they answered.

“Right then,” he said, when the last person had declared themselves present, “I’ve had a letter from Professor Lupin about this class. Seems you’ve had a pretty thorough grounding in tackling Dark creatures–you’ve covered boggarts, Red Caps, hinkypunks, grindylows, Kappas, and werewolves, is that right?”

There was a general murmur of assent.

“But you’re behind–very behind–on dealing with curses,” said Moody. “So I’m here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to each other. I’ve got one year to teach you how to deal with Dark—”

“What, aren’t you staying?” Ron blurted out.

Cas sat up, eyes wide, suddenly attentive.

He leant towards her, whispering excitedly, “Dark Curses? We’re going to learn them?”

Dorian groaned, “Merlin. I have had enough of the Dark Arts to last me for the rest of my life.”

Moody’s magical eye spun around to stare at Ron. After a moment, Moody smiled. The effect was to make his heavily scarred face look more twisted and contorted than ever, but it was nevertheless good to know that he ever did anything as friendly as smile. 

“You’ll be Arthur Weasley’s son, eh?” Moody said. “Your father got me out of a very tight corner a few days ago…Yeah, I’m staying just one year. Special favor to Dumbledore…One year, and then back to my quiet retirement.”

He gave a harsh laugh, and then clapped his gnarled hands together. “So–straight into it. Curses. They come in many strengths and forms. Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I’m supposed to teach you countercurses and leave it at that. I’m not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you’re in the sixth year. You’re not supposed to be old enough to deal with it till then. But Professor Dumbledore’s got a higher opinion of your nerves, he reckons you can cope, and I say, the sooner you know what you’re up against, the better."

 

"How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you’ve never seen? A wizard who’s about to put an illegal curse on you isn’t going to tell you what he’s about to do. He’s not going to do it nice and polite to your face. You need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful. You need to put that away, Miss Brown, when I’m talking.”

Lavender jumped and blushed. She had been showing Parvati her completed horoscope under the desk. Apparently Moody’s magical eye could see through solid wood, as well as out of the back of his head. 

“So…do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?” 

“The three Unforgivables,” Cas murmured to her, grinning. 

He had been trying them out over the break on insects. They had to travel deep into a forest to avoid detection, but so far, Cas hadn't been successful. Zephyr had stayed away from them, knowing it could backfire on her.

It was very entertaining to watch Cas get frustrated by spells that he couldn't perform. He normally could do any spell after reading about it once. He was that good, but so far, he came up empty with those three spells.

His failure puzzled her. Zephyr had successfully casted the Killing Curse on Cas’ parents the year before. If she could, why couldn't he?

Several hands rose tentatively into the air, including Ron’s and Hermione’s. Moody pointed at Ron, though his magical eye was still fixed on Lavender. 

“Er,” said Ron tentatively, “my dad told me about one… Is it called the Imperius Curse, or something?”

“Imperio,” Cas said quietly.

“Ah, yes,” said Moody appreciatively. “Your father would know that one. Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble at one time, the Imperius Curse.”

Moody produced a glass jar with three black spiders inside from his drawer. He reached inside, caught a spider and brought it out. He showed it to the class and Cas leant forward, eyes calculative.

Zephyr knew that look. He was in his zone, where you could stab him in the side and he wouldn't notice. He was completely and utterly focused on Moody.

Moody pointed his wand at it and said, “Imperio!”

The spider leapt from Moody’s hand on a fine thread of silk and began to swing backward and forward as though on a trapeze. It stretched out its legs rigidly, then did a backflip, breaking the thread and landing on the desk, where it began to cartwheel in circles.

Moody jerked his wand, and the spider rose onto two of its hind legs and went into what was unmistakably a tap dance. Everyone was laughing, besides Moody and Casspian.

“Think it’s funny, do you?” Moody growled. “You’d like it, would you, if I did it to you?”  

The laughter died away almost instantly.

Casspian pulled out his wand and she inched away from him in case he tried it on her.

“Just point,” he muttered. “No motion necessary. That's where I was getting it wrong!”

“Total control,” said Moody quietly as the spider balled itself up and began to roll over and over. “I could make it jump out of the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats…”

“Years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards being controlled by the Imperius Curse,” said Moody. “Some job for the Ministry, trying to sort out who was being forced to act, and who was acting of their own free will.” 

“The Imperius Curse can be fought, and I’ll be teaching you how, but it takes real strength of character, and not everyone’s got it. Better avoid being hit with it if you can. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!” He barked, and everyone jumped.

Moody picked up the somersaulting spider and threw it back into the jar. “Anyone else know one? Another illegal curse?”

Hermione’s hand flew into the air again and so, to Harry’s slight surprise, did Neville’s. The only class in which Neville usually volunteered information was Herbology which was easily his best subject. Neville looked surprised at his own daring. 

“Yes?” said Moody, his magical eye rolling right over to fix on Neville.

“There’s one–the Cruciatus Curse,” said Neville in a small but distinct voice.

Zephyr winced and Cas gripped her hand, thumb running over her knuckles soothingly. She had a pretty traumatic run-in with that particular curse.

Moody was looking very intently at Neville, this time with both eyes.

“Your name’s Longbottom?” He said, his magical eye swooping down to check the register again. 

Neville nodded nervously, but Moody made no further inquiries. Turning back to the class at large, he reached into the jar for the next spider and placed it upon the desktop, where it remained motionless, apparently too scared to move.

“The Cruciatus Curse,” said Moody. “Needs to be a bit bigger for you to get the idea,” he said, pointing his wand at the spider. “Engorgio!”

The spider swelled. It was now larger than a tarantula. Cas had gotten to his feet to get a better look. He seemed to be seconds away from sprinting to the front of the room.

Moody raised his wand again, pointed it at the spider, and muttered, “Crucio!”

Zephyr shuddered, eyes slipping shut.

Helpless rage; Cold fingers; Warm breath; Concrete poured on her; Drowning, drowning, drowning.

Maldez over her, the curse hitting her body over and over, his laughter ringing through the prison. The horrible, horrible pain. The blinding agony. 

“You’re safe,” Cas whispered to her, entwining their hands.

She nodded, squeezing him and swallowing hard as she cracked her eyes open.

At once, the spider’s legs bent in upon its body; it rolled over and began to twitch horribly, rocking from side to side. No sound came from it.

Moody did not remove his wand, and the spider started to shudder and jerk more violently.

“Stop it!” Hermione said shrilly.

“You keep pointing the wand,” Cas whispered, scribbling it down onto his hand.

Zephyr blinked and slid a piece of parchment paper to him. He rewrote it onto her paper, casting her a brief smile.

Moody raised his wand. The spider’s legs relaxed, but it continued to twitch. 

“Reducio,” Moody muttered, and the spider shrank back to its proper size. He put it back into the jar. 

“Pain,” said Moody softly. “You don’t need thumbscrews or knives to torture someone if you can perform the Cruciatus Curse… That one was very popular once too. “Right…does anyone know any others?”

Casspian was the only one to raise his hand, unwavering, his eyes bright with barely contained excitement.

“Yes?” Moody looked at him.

“Avada Kedavra,” he said, his voice quiet but it still carried through the tense atmosphere.

“You're Casspian Blackthorn, aye?”

Cas gave a slow, hesitant nod.

“As expected, you know this one,” said Moody, another slight smile twisting his lopsided mouth. “Yes, the last and worst. Avada Kedavra…the Killing Curse.”

He put his hand into the glass jar, and almost as though it knew what was coming, the third spider scuttled frantically around the bottom of the jar, trying to evade Moody’s fingers, but he trapped it, and placed it upon the desktop. It started to scuttle frantically across the wooden surface. Moody raised his wand and Zephyr’s breath caught.

“Avada Kedavra!” Moody roared.

There was a flash of blinding green light and a rushing sound, as though a vast, invisible something was soaring through the air–instantaneously the spider rolled over onto its back, unmarked, but unmistakably dead. 

Just like Cas' parents.

Several of the students stifled cries; Ron had thrown himself backward and almost toppled off his seat as the spider skidded toward him.  

Moody swept the dead spider off the desk onto the floor. 

“Not nice,” he said calmly. “Not pleasant. And there’s no countercurse. There’s no blocking it. Only one known person has ever survived it, and he’s sitting right in front of me.”

All eyes turned to Potter, besides Casspian who was now writing furiously on the piece of paper. Zephyr scanned his notes. It was detailed and explained every single thing he had observed. 

She sighed, knowing that he was going to drag them out to the forest that night to practice. This time, she had a feeling that he would succeed.

“Avada Kedavra is a curse that needs a powerful bit of magic behind it–you could all get your wands out now and point them at me and say the words, and I doubt I’d get so much as a nosebleed.”

Cas’ fingers twitched towards his wand.

“But that doesn’t matter. I’m not here to teach you how to do it. Now, if there’s no countercurse, why am I showing you? Because you’ve got to know. You’ve got to appreciate what the worst is. You don’t want to find yourself in a situation where you’re facing it. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!” he roared, and the whole class jumped again. 

“Now…those three curses–Avada Kedavra, Imperius, and Cruciatus–are known as the Unforgivable Curses. The use of any one of them on a fellow human being is enough to earn a life sentence in Azkaban. That’s what you’re up against. That’s what I’ve got to teach you to fight. You need preparing. You need arming. But most of all, you need to practice constant, never-ceasing vigilance. Get out your quills… copy this down…”

“Sir,” Cas raised his hand once more.

“Yes?” Moody looked a bit taken aback that someone still had the guts to speak to him after his demonstration of the last spell.

“Can we perform it on insects without getting into trouble?” Casspian asked.

“Yes, you can, boy. I doubt anyone here could do that, even if they wanted to,” Moody said.

Cas began to smile. It wasn't the smile she was used to. No, it was feral, filled with malice and unrestrained joy. “Could I try, sir?”

The whole class was staring at them. Zephyr tugged at Cas’ robes, “no.”

“Trust me,” he whispered. “I got this.”

“Oh, Merlin’s hairy balls,” Dorian said with a groan.

“Ew?” Matthias’ voice was filled with disgust.

“No harm trying. Like I said, I doubt you’ll be able to do any of them,” Moody said, but she could tell it was hesitant.

Casspian got up, taking his wand with him. He strode to the front of the classroom and pulled out one of the two live spiders from the jar. It was the one that had been tortured.

The boy closed his eyes for a moment, like he was mustering the strength to speak, before he snapped his gaze to the spider once more.

“Imperio,” he said, in a surprisingly gentle tone.

The spider froze mid-scuttle. It began to hop up and down, then, following Cas’ wand, it leapt onto the desk.

“One down, two to go,” Casspian said, giving Professor Moody a grin.

He broke the spell and shook out his wand hand. Then, he pointed it at the spider once more, “Crucio!”

Skin crawling; Calloused hands sliding down her stomach; Blood roaring in her ears; Blue eyes filled with lust; A heavy body pinning her down; The smell of leather.

She shook her head, body trembling in response to the word. Gods, she hated that spell.

The spider began to seize, its movements barely visible to her from her seat.

There were gasps and cries of horror while Casspian examined the spider emotionlessly. Then, he glanced over to meet her gaze, eyes soft and open, checking in on her, always checking on her.

She forced herself to smile back.

Moody was staring at her friend, looking thoughtful. “Try the last one.”

Casspian nodded and pointed the wand at the spider. “Avada Kedavra.”

A beam of green light hit the spider and Zephyr knew it had died. Cas had done it–he mastered the three Unforgivable Curses. No one spoke. It felt like the first day of school all over again–everyone was giving Casspian looks of disgust and horror. Zephyr glared at her classmates, daring them to say anything nasty, but it seemed like no one dared to even move a muscle.

Casspian froze, realising how quiet it was and she saw a flash of self-hatred cross his face before it was gone, and he bowed sarcastically, then swept out of the room, door slamming shut behind him.

“Anything you want to add?” Dorian snapped, slamming his hand on his table. “He's not some exhibition to gawk at!”

“Stay,” she told Matthias and Dorian who were already out of their seats.

Zephyr jumped up, grabbed her stuff, and slid his notes carefully between the pages of her textbook to protect it, before running after her best friend. Moody didn’t call after either of them.

The hallway was empty when she stumbled out of the room. She swept her gaze around wildly. How the hell did Cas disappear so fast? Her eyes widened. He probably took one of the secret passages.

No, Zephyr realised. He was in a secret passage–their secret passage. They found one that even the Weasley twins did not know about in their second year. It led to the Forbidden Forest. They used it to sneak out to duel in the woods.

She dashed down the hallway and skidded to a stop in front of a painting of a farmhouse overlooking a grassy field. The crops swayed in the wind, courtesy of the magical properties of the painting. Zephyr pressed a well-concealed button located at the bottom of the frame. The entire wall shifted backwards and she slipped through the small gap into the darkness of the passage.

Zephyr was right–Casspian was there, seated with his back against the wall. He was tossing his rubix cube up in the air and catching it again, but his eyes were unfocused. She settled down beside him, gently bumping him with her shoulder.

Cas blinked at her, grey eyes solemn, “I’m just like my parents, aren’t I?”

“No, you aren’t,” she said, firmly but gently. “You are nothing like them.”

For one, they are dead. Zephyr didn't dare to say that out loud.

He offered her a self-deprecating smile, “I got my ability to learn spells from them, you know. They could perform every hex and curse after learning the pronunciation. Dad, in particular, had a way with curses. I saw him use the Killing Curse for the first time when I was six.”

Cas sniffled, turning away, “I know everyone thinks I’m a dangerous, heartless bastard that came from a family of murderers. And, if they don’t think that, they think I’m a disloyal piece of shit that betrayed my own blood. Whatever I do, I either prove I’m like my family or show how untrustworthy I am.”

Zephyr shifted, cupping his face and forcing him to look at her. She looked into the watery, blood-shot grey eyes of her favourite person; the boy she would lay down her life for.

“Listen to me, Casspian. They are gone,” she said sternly, like she was talking to a child. “You are nothing like them. I’ve known you for years and you are the most amazing and impressive individual I’ve ever set my eyes on. I know that you did the right thing, turning your parents in to the authorities. It was very brave. You are brave, not disloyal. I am very certain that you wouldn’t abandon me when I need your help–and you’ve proven that, time and time again. Fuck the rest of them for thinking that about you. I am on your side, okay?”

Cas nodded mutely, eyes shining with tears, and buried his face into her shoulder, arms wrapping around her. She hugged him back, running her fingers through his hair, whispering sweet nothings against his head.

Chapter 45: 4.4

Summary:

tw: graphic description of sexual activity

Voldemort,

Thanks, the potion helped. I did a few tests on it and it was surprisingly safe to drink. Thanks, I suppose.

Yes, the rest of my holidays were uneventful. I'm not sure why I'm even telling you, but my friends and I played Quidditch for most of the break. Matthias is on the Slytherin team, but this year's season was canceled due to the Tri-Wizard tournament.

He's bummed about it.

Also, if you can, can you send me some chocolate frogs?

Dorian Harlot.
September 31st, 1995.

---

Next morning, they snuck out of the passage, having slept there that night. No one raised any alarm bells, since they were known to disappear randomly.

Zephyr felt her ears get hot as she recalled the previous night. They had fallen asleep, snuggled together. It wasn't the first time they had cuddled, of course, but this time, it felt different. It made her stomach flutter, and she did not like that. Cas was a friend. One of her only close friend. She couldn't afford to lose him to childish crushs.

Neither of them wanted to acknowledge their kisses. That was fine by her–she was too busy dealing with her trauma to stress over their relationship.

Once they changed into fresh clothes, they headed down to breakfast, extremely late. Zephyr settled down beside Cas at the Gryffindor table, after Harry told her that he had something important to show them.

Dorian reached for a chicken wing, then changed his mind and grabbed the whole plate of fried meat, and pulled it over to himself. Matthias stole one and was elbowed harshly.

A small scuffle ensued and Zephyr shot them a scathing look. Dorian relinquished three chicken drumlets to Matthias. Satisfied, she returned her attention back to the front.

Zephyr tore a chunk of white bread and dipped it into a plate of olive oil absentmindedly as she read the letter that Sirius had sent Harry last night.

Harry

I’m flying north immediately. This news about your scar is the latest in a series of strange rumors that have reached me here. If it hurts again, go straight to Dumbledore - they’re saying he’s got Mad-Eye out of retirement, which means he’s reading the signs, even if no one else is. I’ll be in touch soon. My best to Ron and Hermione. Keep your eyes open, Harry.

Sirius 

Harry then quickly told them what he had sent back in reply. Zephyr raised an eyebrow, exchanging glances with Casspian.

“That was a lie, Harry,” said Hermione sharply over breakfast. “You didn’t imagine your scar hurting and you know it.”

“So what?” said Harry. “He’s not going back to Azkaban because of me.”

“Drop it,” said Ron sharply to Hermione as she opened her mouth to argue some more, and for once, Hermione heeded him, and fell silent.

Over the next couple of weeks, none of them heard from Sirius. Most of it kind of drifted to the back of her mind because Zephyr was slowly growing to the realisation that she had a crush on her best friend.

It began with small things–she noticed the way he laughed, gentle and breathy. It was the most amazing sound she heard. She couldn't keep eye contact with him for long because his grey eyes were so damn warm and she would turn red if she didn't look away.

Zephyr’s heart leapt every time he spoke, which was probably unhealthy, and she would catch herself just staring at him in class. 

When he pressed a kiss to her forehead after almost getting them caught by Finch, she felt like she was about to spontaneously combust. She knew right then and there that she was absolutely fucked.

Dorian and Matthias were grinning at their interactions, seemingly noticing her growing affection for Cas. The latter remained oblivious.

At night, in the bathroom, after she warded the walls to trap all noises inside, she undressed herself, setting herself in the shower. Zephyr was burning with need. She was absolutely losing her mind.

Water poured down her naked body as she whimpered, eyes shut tightly as Zephyr imagined Cas kneeling before her. 

Imaginary Cas (her hands, in reality) would drag hiss rough palms down her body, hefting her breast, fingers flicking against her nipples. She moaned loudly as her hands travelled between her legs, stopping to circle her clit, electricity shooting through her spine.

Zephyr felt the wetness of her pussy, thought of Cas’ gentle fingers (definitely not like Lockharts'–No, don't think of him) rubbing her folds. She would lean up to capture his lips between hers as he pushed in, curling his fingers in her tight vagina, making her squirm on his hand.

Her fingers were moist, warm as they moved in and out of her pussy, pleasure curling in her stomach. She palmed her tits, rocking her hips against her hand.

In her mind, Cas would add a second finger, splitting her apart as his thumb rubbed her nub, and she whispered his name pleadingly.

Zephyr’s inner walls contracted, squeezing her fingers and she came with a cry.

She sat there, panting as she drifted down her high, shame filling her body. This was her nightly routine now.

At least, her lessons became harder, diverting a bit of her focus away from her friend.

To their surprise, Professor Moody had announced that he would be putting the Imperius Curse on each of them in turn, to demonstrate its power and to see whether they could resist its effects. Casspian perked up and she nearly sobbed at how adorable he was.

“But–but you said it’s illegal, Professor,” said Hermione uncertainly as Moody cleared away the desks with a sweep of his wand, leaving a large clear space in the middle of the room. 

“You said to use it against another human wa—”

“Dumbledore wants you taught what it feels like,” said Moody, his magical eye swiveling onto Hermione and fixing her with an eerie, unblinking stare. “If you’d rather learn the hard way–when someone’s putting it on you so they can control you completely–fine by me. You’re excused. Off you go.” He pointed one gnarled finger toward the door. 

Hermione shut her mouth.

Moody began to beckon students forward in turn and put the Imperius Curse upon them. Zephyr watched as her classmates did the funniest things under its influence.

Dean Thomas hopped three times around the room, singing the national anthem. Lavender Brown imitated a squirrel. Neville performed a series of quite astonishing gymnastics he would certainly not have been capable of in his normal state.

Not one of them seemed to be able to fight off the curse, and each of them recovered only when Moody had removed it. 

“Potter,” Moody growled, “you next.”

Harry moved forward into the middle of the classroom, into the space that Moody had cleared of desks.

Moody raised his wand, pointed it at Harry, and said, “Imperio!”

Zephyr watched as Moody instructed Harry to jump onto the desk. Harry bent his knees, gaze unfocused, about to jump, and then froze in his squatting position.

“Jump!” Moody exclaimed. “Now!”

Harry jumped–but then threw himself back down at the same time. His knees buckled and he smashed face first into a desk, overturning the books and stationary on it.

Cas whistled lowly, “not bad.”

“Now, that’s more like it!” growled Moody’s voice. “Look at that, you lot…Potter fought! He fought it, and he damn near beat it! We’ll try that again, Potter, and the rest of you, pay attention–watch his eyes, that’s where you see it–very good, Potter, very good indeed! They’ll have trouble controlling you!”

Next, it was Zephyr’s turn. Nervously, she fidgeted under the unnerving gaze of her professor. She was used to being overlooked, all the attention being given to Cas. It was a nice feeling to be unnoticed. Now, everyone was looking at her. There were varying looks of encouragement (Matthias, Dorian, Cas, Theo and Blaise) and judgement (Nathalie, Pansy, Draco, Crabbe, Goyle).

Yep, she totally wasn't nervous whatsoever.

“Casspian,” Moody said, glancing up. “Why don't you perform the spell on your friend instead?”

“What?” Cas spluttered. “Me?”

“Yes. I doubt that you have any hostile intentions towards Zephyr, so what is the harm?” 

Cas stood in front of her, his expression uncharacteristically gentle. He said, “it's okay, I’ll be nice.”

“I will smother you in your sleep if you make me do anything embarrassing,” she threatened.

The corners of his lips twitched upwards, “I’m looking forward to that. Imperio.”

Instantly, she was hit with a floating, light-weight feeling. Her brain felt like it had been replaced by cotton balls. It was freeing. Nothing mattered, not really.

“Wave at me, Zephyr,” said a voice.

Whose voice was that? It was very nice–deep, smooth and calming. She would follow the voice to the pits of hell if it asked her to.

She lifted a hand, and felt fingers close around her wrist. Whoever it was tightened their grip slightly, squeezing her arm gently.

“Listen to me, Zeph’. Wave at me.” The voice was much closer now, almost whispering directly into her ear.

She felt another quick squeeze. The hand did not want her to wave.

Zephyr felt the familiar roughness of the palm around her wrist, fingers that she knew very well. She trusted the hand.

She did not wave.

Then, the feeling of haziness disappeared. She blinked up at Casspian, who was grinning at her. He slid his hand down and entwined their fingers.

“Not there yet,” he decided with a wolfish grin. “Maybe soon, you’ll be able to resist it.”

“I failed?” Zephyr asked, actually shocked.

He pursed his lips, “your hand twitched upwards. Would have waved if I didn't stop you. I count it as a fail.”

She scowled at him.

"Hey, don't get mad at me."

Moody clapped and they jumped apart. She had completely forgotten that she had company.

Professor Moody shook his head, eyeball rolling, “this is Defence Against the Dark Arts class, not Romance class. Casspian, your turn.”

She blushed and ducked back into the crowd of students as Cas took her place, his back to the class.

Moody pointed his wand at the brunette and exclaimed, “Imperio!”

Cas didn't move.

“Crawl on the floor,” Moody instructed.

Part of her wanted to see him do that. That would be hilarious.

Cas tilted his head to the side, “I rather not.”

The curse hadn’t affected him one bit. Moody nodded approvingly and turned back to the class, “that is how it's done. Not bad, Potter and Blackthorn. The rest of you–pray you will never find yourself a target of Imperio.”

Dorian was winded from trying to crawl like a spider. Matthias didn't react, perhaps because of his Legilimancy. Cas and Zephyr cheered. Their blond friend was busy sulking in the corner to acknowledge them.

That was probably the most fun they had in a while. Most of their classes were a rigorous rinse and repeat of never-ending work.

All the fourth years had noticed a definite increase in the amount of work they were required to do this term. Professor McGonagall explained why, when the class gave a particularly loud groan at the amount of Transfiguration homework she had assigned.

“You are now entering a most important phase of your magical education!” she told them, her eyes glinting dangerously behind her square spectacles. “Your Ordinary Wizarding Levels are drawing closer—”

“We don’t take O.W.L.s till fifth year!” said Dean Thomas indignantly.

“Maybe not, Thomas, but believe me, you need all the preparation you can get! Miss Granger, Miss Sylvester and her friends remain the only people in this class who have managed to turn a hedgehog into a satisfactory pincushion. I might remind you that your pincushion, Thomas, still curls up in fright if anyone approaches it with a pin!”

“Casspian is good at everything. Everyone else is mediocre,” another girl complained.

Cas blinked, lifting his head lazily from his desk. He had been transforming his hedgehog into a multitude of different objects–a cactus, a tennis ball, a particularly spikey rubix cube. Dorian was trying to get Matthias’ doorknob back into his originally-shaped quill.

“It was my favourite one!” Matthias exclaimed.

Dorian gritted his teeth, “I am trying.”

“Try harder!”

“Like you can do better, Arnoux.”

She blocked out their quarrel easily, used to it.

Runes were just as bad. Now, they had to translate a whole book of runes into English. Zephyr was only halfway through and she had slaved away at it for an entire week. Cas hadn’t bothered to even touch his homework, too preoccupied with mastering the Unforgivable Curses nonverbally and wandlessly.

He had probably wiped out an entire population of toads while testing out Avada Kedavra. It was kind of eerie to see him surrounded by piles of dead frogs, but it was Cas, and she knew he wouldn't harm her. Well, besides the time when he tried to kill a fly, missed and almost killed her. Casspian had taken a break from that spell for an entire month after.

He had refused to use Crucio after the first time at DADA. He knew the curse still terrified her. However, he also abused the living hell out of Imperio, teaching mice to dance for their amusement. 

Moody was very impressed with Cas’ progress and began secretly teaching them more and more spells, some that weren't found in their textbooks. On his birthday, Moody allowed Cas to perform Imperio on him. It was hilarious to see Professor Moody do pirate impressions.

Dorian and Matthias hadn't attempted the curses. They weren't interested. As growing teen boys, their attention was a bit more…focused on other things.

She didn't miss the wide-eyed stares Matthias gave a Gryffindor girl, Lavander, with enormous breasts. He went red every time she spoke to him.

Dorian, in a surprising turn of events, was ogling Theodore now. Zephyr wasn't homophobic by any means–she grew up in bars for fucks’ sake. 

But Dorian never showed an interest in anyone before. He had been so hard-headed, fixed solely on being an asshole. 

Whilst her friends’ love lives flourished, Zephyr’s plummeted to the drains. Cas was a genius but he was utterly clueless about relationships.

Whatever.

Professor Binns, the ghost who taught History of Magic, had them writing weekly essays on the goblin rebellions of the eighteenth century.

Professor Snape was forcing them to research antidotes. Everyone took this one seriously, as he had hinted that he might be poisoning one of them before Christmas to see if their antidote worked. 

Professor Flitwick had asked them to read three extra books in preparation for their lesson on Summoning Charms. Even Hagrid was adding to their workload. The Blast-Ended Skrewts were growing at a remarkable pace given that nobody had yet discovered what they ate.

Cas had honoured his promise and stolen one for Zephyr on her sixteenth birthday. She was very tempted to dissect it, but decided against it. Cas had killed enough animals for the both of them.

Hagrid was delighted by the growth, and as part of their “project,” suggested that they come down to his hut on alternate evenings to observe the Skrewts and make notes on their extraordinary behaviour.

“I will not,” said Draco Malfoy flatly when Hagrid had proposed this with the air of Father Christmas pulling an extra-large toy out of his sack.

“I see enough of these foul things during lessons, thanks.” Hagrid’s smile faded off his face.

“Yeh’ll do wha’ yer told,” he growled, “or I’ll be takin’ a leaf outta Professor Moody’s book…I hear yeh made a good ferret, Malfoy.”

The Gryffindors roared with laughter. Malfoy flushed with anger, but apparently the memory of Moody’s punishment had traumatised him enough to keep his mouth shut.

Cas smirked from beside her. His good mood only grew when they returned to the castle, pushing–shoving, more like–through the crowd to see what had been posted on the notice board.

TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT THE DELEGATIONS FROM BEAUXBATONS AND DURMSTRANG WILL BE ARRIVING AT 6 O’CLOCK ON FRIDAY THE 30TH OF OCTOBER. LESSONS WILL END HALF AN HOUR EARLY. STUDENTS WILL RETURN THEIR BAGS AND BOOKS TO THEIR DORMITORIES AND ASSEMBLE IN FRONT OF THE CASTLE TO GREET OUR GUESTS BEFORE THE WELCOMING FEAST.

“What do we have on Friday?” Zephyr asked, scratching her nose.

Matthias frowned, “I’m pretty sure it’s Arithmancy.”

“Fuck, yes,” Dorian muttered. “Hate it.”

Cas looked surprised and said, “I thought you had an outstanding on your last essay?”

“I did. Just because I do well in the subject doesn't make me like it. It's so boring.”

They escaped the crowd and headed for the stairs.

“Hey,” Zephyr glanced around before lowering her voice. “Heard that Hills is entering.”

Billy ‘Hills’ Harlot, Dorian’s older brother, a fifth year Slytherin Prefect had been quite publically humiliated by Casspian on the first day of school, when they were first years. It had been hilarious at the time, and also very heartwarming, since Cas had hexed Hills after he had said something about blood purity.

Ever since then, Hills has been tormenting them (specifically her, because no one dared to come after Casspian directly, and Zephyr was the easier target between the two of them).

Cas’ gaze darkened, “I hope he dies during the tournament.”

“Cas!” Mattias warned, eyeing Dorian.

“I don't care,” Dorian gave them two thumbs up. “Go ahead.”

Cas shrugged nonchalantly, “what? That bastard deserves it. Remember what he did last week?”

Zephyr winced, fingers drifting to her hip. He had shoved her, quite hard, down a flight of stairs while she was waiting for her boys to finish their detention. She suffered a broken ankle and a bruised side, and had dragged herself to Madam Pomfrey to get herself fixed up before Cas realised.

Unfortunately, Cas was like a bloodhound and had found her, after threatening a poor Hufflepuff year one who had witnessed the incident. Hills had to spend the night at the hospital wing after Cas was done with him, and Cas was given a month of detention.

Hills had become bolder and bolder with his actions recently. It used to be just racist comments whispered to her and little hexes that Cas would block with a wordless flick of his wand. He hadn't been physically violent before, and it gave Zephyr very unwanted flashbacks of her life in her old muggle school–something she hadn't told Cas yet.

“You know,” Zephyr said one morning, lazing around on Cas’ bed. They had slept together the previous night (in the literal sense, not the sexual one). “I heard that Cedric is going to join the tournament.”

“The Hufflepuff prefect Qudditch one?” Cas’ eyes opened slowly, still half asleep.

"Oh, that Cedric," Matthias said lazily. "He's a pretty darn good player."

"Still clueless," Cas said.

“The hot one.”

Cas sat up, suddenly awake, “you find him hot?”

“Yeah,” Zephyr gave him a weird look. “Are you okay?”

He blinked at her, looking confused, “yeah. Go on.”

“Nothing. I just felt like telling you.”

“Oh.” He laid back down on his stomach, face buried into his pillow.

She paused for a moment, readied herself for his answer, and whispered, “Cas?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you going to enter your name into the tournament?”

"Of course he is!" Called Dorian from his own bed.

Cas rolled over, his familiar up-to-no-good grin appearing, “naturally.”

She looked away. Zephyr didn't find it funny. She chewed at the inside of her cheek, hating the worry that filled her. She knew he was going to participate, one way or another. Cas was bound to do something stupid and she couldn't help but feel anxious because what if he got hurt, or even died? She had no one else.

“Hey,” Cas nudged her.

She glanced up, meeting his soft grey eyes. He cocked his head, blinking at her, “come on Firefly, tell me what’s wrong.”

“Just promise me that you’ll be careful,” she said quietly. “I can't lose you.”

His gaze softened even further and he pulled her against him, nuzzling into her hair, “never, Zephyr, never. You’ll never get rid of me.”

“If you get hurt, I’ll throw you off the Astronomy tower,” she said, trying to sound stern but failing miserably at it.

“Duly noted,” Casspian laughed, ruffling her hair in a friendly, almost too platonic, way.

Was there a chance that he could like her back? Casspian Blackthorn was perfect, too perfect, so someone as mundane as her. Their kisses were impulsive. Under regular circumstances, he never attempted to do it again.

The sudden understanding that her crush on him would be fruitless caused Zephyr to realise it was better to be less attached now, to save her the heartbreak. 

“C'mon,” she slid the bed curtains back, peeking out to see that Cas’ dorm was empty before slipping out of his bed. “Let's get breakfast.”

Casspian made a surprised sound which he tried to cover up as a cough, but Zephyr already knew that what she had said was uncharacteristic. She hated eating breakfast. Cas had always been the one who had to drag her (quite literally) to eat.

He leaned over, half of his body hanging from his bed, so he could reach underneath to find his clothes, “gimme a sec’.”

She turned her back respectfully as he quickly changed out of his pyjamas into the school uniform, face burning. Zephyr was reaching a breaking point, she realised. One day, she was going to snap and just confess her undying love to her best friend, and then lose her best friend because he would laugh in her face.

Zephyr couldn't imagine Casspian being in a relationship with not just her, but anyone. Cas– flighty, fidgety, spontaneous Cas.  He would be bored to death by someone who couldn't keep up with his antics and genius brain. Zephyr barely managed to catch on to what he meant nowadays, and she was pretty sure the only reason why he kept her around was because they had been friends for years.

“I hope they have pie today,” Cas said cheerfully, throwing open the room door with a flourish. “I love pie.”

“I know,” Zephyr replied dryly. He had brought them to a pie festival over the holidays and he had indulged in his passion for pastries, and then threw up on her.

“Oh, don't bring that day up,” Cas groaned, as they headed towards the Grand Hall.

She shuddered playfully, saying, “I’m still traumatised.”

“Oh, shush, I wasn't that sick.”

“The state of my shirt begged to differ.” Dorian grumbled.

“You know, Harlot, some people would consider it an honour to be puked on by me.”

“Unfortunately, I am not one of them.”

“Bummer. Hey, look, they decorated the Grand Hall!”

Indeed, they did. Large silk banners hung from the walls, each of them representing a Hogwarts House: red with a gold lion for Gryffiindor, blue with a bronze eagle for Ravenclaw, yellow with a black badger for Hufflepuff, and green with a silver serpent for Slytherin. Behind the teachers’ table, the largest banner of all bore the Hogwarts coat of arms: lion, eagle, badger, and snake united around a large letter H.

Zephyr spotted the Golden Trio seated at their table and saw that Harry had received a letter. Cas was too much of a busybody, so he dragged them over.

“Padfoot replied?” Zephyr asked quietly, to make sure the Weasley twins didn't hear, as she popped up behind Harry.

He jumped, folding the letter to hide its contents, “bloody hell, Zephyr!”

Cas raised his eyebrows, “hello to you too, Potter.”

They slid into free seats and took turns reading the letter.

Nice try, Harry. 

I ’m back in the country and well hidden. I want you to keep me posted on everything that’s going on at Hogwarts. Don’t use Hedwig, keep changing owls, and don’t worry about me, just watch out for yourself. Don’t forget what I said about your scar.

Sirius.

“Why d’you have to keep changing owls?” Ron asked in a low voice.

“Hedwig’ll attract too much attention,” said Hermione at once. “She stands out. A snowy owl that keeps returning to wherever he’s hiding…I mean, they’re not native birds, are they?”

Harry rolled up the letter and slipped it inside his robes. Cas gave her a look, one that she knew meant that he had something important to tell her, but not right now.

“Thanks, Hedwig,” Harry said, stroking her. 

The bird hooted sleepily, dipped her beak briefly into his goblet of orange juice, then took off again.

“Why can't my owl be nice,” Zephyr grumbled to Cas.

He laughed, spearing his pie with his fork, “I don't think your charms work on animals.”

She snorted, “my charms work on no one.”

“They work on me,” Cas said, smiling.

Dorian coughed.

It was an offhand comment, with probably nothing romantic behind it, but Zephyr felt her heart skip a beat anyways. She cursed herself inwardly.

“What's the next class?” Zephyr asked, just to dispel the sudden tension (not a necessary bad one, just a strange one) between them.

Cas closed his eyes briefly, probably conjuring up a mental image of their schedule, before saying, “Muggle Studies.”

“Lovely,” Matthias said with a sigh.

---

The day before the foreign students arrived was filled with a flurry of cleaning and excitement. Students seemed to have ironed their robes and styled their hair. Wands were polished in class and the Professors all had a hard time getting them to focus during their lessons.

Charms was, well, painful to get through. After Cas and Zephyr had been scolded for talking during lessons for the twentieth time, they had been separated by Professor Flintwick.

By dinner, all four of them had detentions and they spent the night polishing trophies by hand, under Filch’s watchful gaze.

At one point, Dorian dropped a medal and was scolded quite badly by the Groundskeeper. In a very Dorian-like fashion, he had snapped back that Filch prefered physical punishment because he was a squib, a wizard with little to none magical abilities, and then was given a month's  of detention to serve.

The next day was supposed to be exciting but Zephyr was just sleepy. They had crashed into bed at five in the morning, Matthias cursing Dorian out for making Filch angry and resulting in a two hour extension of their punishment.

The two boys didn't go to sleep on good terms. Cas, too lazy to entertain their childish behaviour, had just motioned for Zephyr to get beneath his covers. They fell asleep tangled in each other’s arms.

That evening, they assembled at the entrance of the courtyard, Snape doing a headcount to make sure no one was playing hooky. 

The Professor stopped before their small group, peering down at them past his beaky nose.

“And where is Mister Nott and Mister Zabini?” Snape drawled in his nasally voice.

“No clue, sir,” Cas said with a polite smile.

Snape stared at them for a couple seconds more before he scowled and moved on. 

Once he was out of earshot, Cas leaned towards them, whispering, “I asked them to break into Filch’s office and trash it. I wish we could do it ourselves, but this is the best chance they would get and if any of us were missing, people would be suspicious.”

Dorian grinned, eyes glittering with malice. “Good.”

Matthias shivered, his cheeks pink, “I wish they chose a day that wasn't so cold.”

Dumbledore called out from the back row where he stood with the other teachers, “aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!”

“Where?” said many students eagerly, all looking in different directions.

Dorian rolled his eyes, rubbing his hands together, “I hate this.”

Cas wrapped an arm around Zephyr, trying to keep her warm. She shuffled closer, leaning against his chest. He smelled so good. She could never get enough of his scent; of the whiskey, parchment and smoke that seemed to drift after his wake.

“There!” yelled a sixth year, pointing over the forest. 

Something large was hurtling across the deep blue sky toward the castle, growing larger all the time.

“Christ,” she said under her breath. The hell was it?

As the gigantic black shape skimmed over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest and the lights shining from the castle windows hit it, they saw a gigantic, powder blue, horse-drawn carriage, the size of a large house, soaring toward them, pulled through the air by a dozen winged horses, all palominos, and each the size of an elephant. 

“Merlin,” Cas said, jaw slack. “That’s a bit on the nose, isn't it?”

Dorian smirked, turning to Matthias, “look how big the horses are. Imagine how big their cocks are.”

Casspian stretching, his V-line that showed when his shirt rode up, the fair dusting of dark hair that ran from his stomach down into his pants, his black boxers peeking through.

“Dorian!” Zephyr exclaimed, face burning.

The blond shrugged apologetically, “in the biological sense, Zeph’.”

The front three rows of students drew backward as the carriage hurtled ever lower, coming in to land at a tremendous speed–then, with an almighty crash, the horses’ hooves, larger than dinner plates, hit the ground.

A second later, the carriage landed too, bouncing upon its vast wheels, while the golden horses tossed their enormous heads and rolled large, fiery red eyes.

Zephyr jumped at the noise, pretty confident that the passengers in the carriage were killed during their landing. Cas only tightened his grip on her.

The carriage door opened and a boy in pale blue robes jumped down from the carriage, bent forward, fumbled for a moment with something on the carriage floor, and unfolded a set of golden steps.

He sprang back respectfully. A shining, high heeled black shoe emerging from the inside of the carriage–a shoe the size of a child’s sled–followed, almost immediately, by the largest woman he had ever seen in his life. The size of the carriage, and of the horses, was immediately explained. A few people gasped.

The woman was like Hagrid–similar in size, with olive skin and dark eyes. 

“What are they feeding them?” Cas asked. “Whoa!”

She was dressed from head to foot in black satin, and many magnificent opals gleamed at her throat and on her thick fingers.  Dumbledore started to clap; the students, following his lead, broke into applause too, many of them standing on tiptoe, the better to look at this woman.

Her face relaxed into a gracious smile and she walked forward toward Dumbledore, extending a glittering hand.

Dumbledore, though tall himself, barely had to bend to kiss it.

“My dear Madame Maxime,” he said. “Welcome to Hogwarts.”

“Dumbly-dort,” said Madame Maxime in a deep voice. “I ‘ope I find you well?”

“In excellent form, I thank you,” said Dumbledore.

“My pupils,” said Madame Maxime, waving one of her enormous hands carelessly behind her.

A group of students, dozens of teenagers, had gathered behind Madame Maxime.They were shivering, which was unsurprising, given that their robes seemed to be made of fine silk, and none of them were wearing cloaks. A few had wrapped scarves and shawls around their heads. They were staring up at Hogwarts with apprehensive looks on their faces.

“Oh, wow, if you're going to be all high and mighty, you shouldn't have come!” Dorian shouted.

Several heads turned, dainty faces curling into one of disgust.

“Harlot! Detention!” Snape snapped. “Ten points from Slytherin!”

“Whatever! They–mphm!” Someone slapped a hand over Dorian’s mouth, cutting him off.

Theo shook his head, “are you crazy? Shush!”

Blaise knocked his fist against Matthias’ and beamed, “we were successful.”

Cas’ smile was vicious. “Good job, boys.”

“As Karkaroff arrived yet?” Madame Maxime asked.

“He should be here any moment,” said Dumbledore. “Would you like to wait here and greet him or would you prefer to step inside and warm up a trifle?”

“Warm up, I think,” said Madame Maxime. “But ze ‘orses -”

“Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher will be delighted to take care of them,” said Dumbledore, “the moment he has returned from dealing with a slight situation that has arisen with some of his other - er - charges.”

The Skrewts. She wondered how their animals were faring. They had fondly named them Eragon (Cas’) and Toothless (her’s). Dorian and Matthias didn't give theirs names–they did noy share the same love for their creatures as they did.

“My steeds require - er - forceful ‘andling,” said Madame Maxime, looking as though she doubted whether any Care of Magical Creatures teacher at Hogwarts could be up to the job. “Zey are very strong…”

“I assure you that Hagrid will be well up to the job,” said Dumbledore, smiling.

“Very well,” said Madame Maxime, bowing slightly. “Will you please inform zis ‘Agrid zat ze ‘orses drink only single-malt whiskey?”

“So do I. I suppose I am a stallion,” Cas said and winked at her, making warmth curl in her belly.

Cas’ pale arms, veiny and corded with muscles, flexing as he wrapped them around her waist.

“Yee-haw, cowboy,” Dorian snickered, elbowing Cas.

“Why is everything coming out from your mouths so damn sexualised?” Zephyr said with a long-suffering groan.

Blaise said, laughing, “we’re horny teen boys. Of course everything we say has a sexual insinuation.”

She ran a hand down her face, wishing the ground would just open up and swallow her. Gods, her boys were insufferable once they hit the prime of their puberty. All they thought of was sex.

“It will be attended to,” said Dumbledore, also bowing. ”

“Come,” said Madame Maxime imperiously to her students, and the Hogwarts crowd parted to allow her and her students to pass up the stone steps.

“Dumb-stanks next, right?” Dorian asked, yawning.

“Durmstrang,” Theo corrected.

“Whatever.”

They stood in the freezing cold, waiting for the Durmstrang party to arrive. 

Most people were gazing hopefully up at the sky. For a few minutes, the silence was broken only by Madame Maxime’s huge horses snorting and stamping.

“Can you hear something?” Said Matthias suddenly.

Zephyr’s head snapped up. Yes, in the far distance, there was a grinding and oddly eerie noise drifting toward them from out of the darkness: a muffled rumbling and sucking sound, as though a large vacuum cleaner were moving along a riverbed.

 “It’s coming from the lake,” Cas said, craning his neck, frowning. “What the hell is that?”

From their position at the top of the lawns overlooking the grounds, they had a clear view of the smooth black surface of the water–except that the surface was suddenly not smooth at all. 

Some disturbance was taking place deep in the center; great bubbles were forming on the surface, waves were now washing over the muddy banks and then, out in the very middle of the lake, a whirlpool appeared, as if a giant plug had just been pulled out of the lake’s floor. 

What seemed to be a long, black pole began to rise slowly out of the heart of the whirlpool. Matthias inhaled sharply. The mast of a ship appeared.

“Is that a fucking submarine?” Matthias asked. “We barely can afford new school brooms and they get a damned submarine?”

“I think it's just an underwater ship,” Blaise said.

Cas raised a brow, “an underwater ship is a submarine, Zabini.”

Slowly, magnificently, the ship rose out of the water, gleaming in the moonlight. It had a strangely skeletal look about it, as though it were a resurrected wreck, and the dim, misty lights shimmering at its portholes looked like ghostly eyes. 

“Way to make an entrance,” Cas whistled, thoroughly impressed.

Finally, with a large splash, the ship emerged entirely, bobbing on the turbulent water, and began to glide toward the bank.

A few moments later, they heard the crash of an anchor being thrown down in the shallows, and the thud of a plank being lowered onto the bank.

People were disembarking; they could see their silhouettes passing the lights in the ship’s portholes. 

All of them, she noticed, seemed to be built along the lines of bodybuilders but then, as they drew nearer, walking up the lawns into the light streaming from the entrance hall, she saw that their bulk was really due to the fact that they were wearing cloaks of some kind of shaggy, matted fur. 

“It's not that cold,” Dorian said, trying to maintain his uninterested demeanour.

Zephyr eyed his dragon-hide winter coat that must have cost the amount her mother paid for a month’s rent.

“Speak for yourself, Harlot,” Theo grumbled, shivering. “I’m freezing my balls off.”

“Enough with cocks and balls, please,” Zephyr snapped. “I’m sick of thinking of them.”

“Whose are you thinking about?” Dorian teased and she shoved him hard, making him stumble back.

Cas getting out of the shower, towel wrapped loosely around his waist, water sliding down his toned body, hair dripping wet—

Zephyr’s face burned and she raised her hand to further assault her friend.

Cas chuckled, grabbing her and nuzzled his cheek against her hair. “Okay, we’ll stop.”

Even though his words were light, the command in his tone was clear and the boys fell silent.

The man who was leading them up to the castle was wearing furs of a different sort: sleek and silver, like his hair.

“Dumbledore!” he called heartily as he walked up the slope. “How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?”

“Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff,” Dumbledore replied.

Karkaroff had a fruity, unctuous voice; when he stepped into the light pouring from the front doors of the castle they saw that he was tall and thin like Dumbledore, but his white hair was short, and his goatee (finishing in a small curl) did not entirely hide his rather weak chin.

“Inbreed,” Cas whispered to her, humour colouring his words.

“Like you?”

He barked a laugh, “yes, like me. Pure-blooded bigots that fuck their cousins.”

“Enough about sex!” Zephyr cried out, her body tingling like she was about to explode.

The students around them shot her a strange look. She hid her face into Cas’ arm, ignoring the way his body shook with mirth.

When Karkaroff reached Dumbledore, he shook hands with both of his own.

“Dear old Hogwarts,” he said, looking up at the castle and smiling but his smile did not extend to his eyes, which remained cold and shrewd. “How good it is to be here, how good. Viktor, come along, into the warmth–you don’t mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold.”

“Their own Harry Potter,” Cas said, tone dripping with disdain. “Their golden boy.”

Karkaroff beckoned forward one of his students. As the boy passed, she caught a glimpse of a prominent curved nose and thick black eyebrows.

Matthias sucked in a breath and said in an airy voice, “holy shit, that's Victor Krum.”

“Who?” Dorian asked.

“What?” Matthias’ jaw dropped.

Chapter 46: 4.5

Summary:

and after 144k (?) words, the slow burn comes to an end. zepian is here!!!!

Dearest Dorian,

Inform me if you require anymore. I have included caramel melts and floating bubble gum for you as well. I hope you enjoy them.

Are you looking forward to the competition? It had been banned since the 1790's so I never had the pleasure of watching it.

Yours,

Lord Voldemort.

7th October 1995

---

They sat at their usual spots, Theo and Blaise joining them for the meal.

Krum and his fellow Durmstrang students were still gathered around the door, apparently unsure about where they should sit. The students from Beauxbatons had chosen seats at the Ravenclaw table. They were looking around the Great Hall with glum expressions on their faces. Three of them were still clutching scarves and shawls around their heads.

Zephyr yawned, covering her mouth. Cas out a small huff of amusement and pushed a cup of steaming coffee over to her.

Viktor and his friends glanced at their empty table and headed over.

“Heads up,” Theo said with a sigh.

Matthias was positively vibrating in his seat, eyes shining as Krum sat beside him, his friend beside Viktor.

“I—” Matthias spluttered and then pulled out a muggle pen from his pocket. “Wait—”

“Hey, isn't that mine?” Zephyr frowned.

The ginger dug through his robes frantically and Dorian, pitying the boy, passed him a scrap of parchment.

Matthias thrusted it to Viktor who looked uncomfortable but he politely signed his name on the paper. 

The boy stammered, “t-thank you. I really look up to you. Your last game was incredible! When you—”

“Boys.” Cas said sharply, glaring at Matthias. “This is not how we behave.”

Matthias stiffened, a mask of cool indifference slamming down on his face. He shifted, clearing his throat and folded the paper, stuffing it back into his robes.

“Sorry, I forgot myself,” he muttered awkwardly.

The other three boys straightened up, falling into their roles of being cold Slytherins.

“Let's start over, shall we?” Cas said, his twangy accent filtering in. “My name is Casspian Blackthorn. Nice to meet you.”

“Blackthorn?” Krum repeated slowly, recognition colouring his handsome features. “The war hero?”

Cas inclined his head slightly, a smug smile playing on his lips. Zephyr rolled her eyes.

“Dorian Harlot,” the blond went next, offering a slender hand out across the table.

Viktor shook it hesitantly, “as in, the richest magical family in london?”

“Most of them are in jail, I’m afraid,” Dorian shrugged. “Just me left.”

Krum’s eyebrows shot up.

“Matthias Arnoux,” the ginger said, somehow sounding calm. “I apologise for earlier.”

Viktor’s friend choked on his next breath. He leaned forward, blond hair falling into his blue eyes, “the terrorist's son?”

“That one is new,” Matthias said softly with a frown.

Dorian shot him a soft look. Matthias' shoulders sagged.

“Theodore Nott,” Theo waggled his fingers. “Nothing special about me.”

“Blaise Zabini, pleasure,” Blaise’s smile was tight and artificial. “I play Chaser.”

“The Sovereign of the Italian Ministry of Magic?” Viktor’s friend exclaimed. “Seven ex-husbands, Mrs Zabini?” 

“Why is everyone so concerned over my mother’s dating life?” Blaise asked, reaching for some tea.

“Your name, please?” Viktor’s eyes drifted to her.

Cas tensed up beside her and she placed a soothing hand on his leg.

“Zephyr Sylvester,” she said with a soft smile. “I’m not famous or rich. Nice to meet you.”

Viktor reached for her free hand and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. “The pleasure is all mine.”

Dorian’s and Matthias’ gaze shot to Cas, who was gripping the table tightly. 

Zephyr shot the boy a scathing look.

“My name is Åke Andersson,” Viktor’s friend said, pronouncing his name as ‘Oakleh’.

Cas’ fingers tapped lazily against the tabletop.

“Your father’s name is Anders?” Cas asked.

Åke’s pale eyes widened, “you are familiar with Swedish last names?”

“Cas is familiar with everything,” Dorian grinned. 

The Drumstrang students began stripping off their coats and Viktor’s attention moved to stare at the ceiling, examining the starry sky with intrigue.

“Is this real gold?” Åke asked, touching the goblets.

Matthias nodded. “All of it is.”

The two Drumstrang students looked slightly more impressed.

Up at the staff table, Filch, the caretaker, was adding chairs, the legs screeching across the floor. He was wearing his mouldy old tailcoat in honour of the occasion. 

When all the students had entered the Hall and settled down at their House tables, the staff entered, filing up to the top table and taking their seats.

Last in line were Professor Dumbledore, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime. When their headmistress appeared, the pupils from Beauxbatons leapt to their feet.

A few of the Hogwarts students laughed. The Beauxbatons party appeared quite unembarrassed, however, and did not resume their seats until Madame Maxime had sat down on Dumbledore’s left-hand side.

Dumbledore remained standing, and a silence fell over the Great Hall.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and— most particularly —guests,” said Dumbledore, beaming around at the foreign students. “I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable.”

“The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast,” said Dumbledore. “I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!”

The plates in front of them filled with food as usual. The house-elves in the kitchen seemed to have pulled out all the stops; there was a greater variety of dishes in front of them than she had ever seen, including several that were definitely foreign.

Dorian’s eyes sparkled as he marvelled at the spread.

“Careful, Harlot,” Theo teased. “Don't drool all over the food.”

Dorian blushed, pulling back. He began to grab a bit of everything.

“What’s that?” said Matthias, pointing at a large dish of some sort of shellfish stew that stood beside a large steak-and-kidney pudding.

“Bouillabaisse,” said Cas, “it’s a seafood stew made with tomatoes. Quite nice. It has French origins.”

“Yum,” Dorian scooped some over his rice. “Reminds me of Korean Army Stew. Remember that chicken place down the street?”

Zephyr let out a longing sigh, “how could I? The boneless Bulgogi wings were insane.”

Cas reached for a slice of what seemed to be cheese pie.

Viktor nodded approvingly, “the Västerbottenostpaj is very nice.” 

“It has string onions in it,” Zephyr leaned over to stare.

“Do you want to try some?” Cas asked and speared some on his fork, holding the paster up to her mouth, hand positioned below to catch any crumbs that fell.

She indulged in a bite and groaned as the rich, savoury cream filled her mouth and was surprised at the slight bitterness after she swallowed.

“Is it good?” Cas asked, bemused by her near-erotic reaction.

She turned red, “yeah.”

He exchanged his plate for her empty one, “have mine. I’ll take more.”

“I feel as if you’ve eaten every pie on earth,” Dorian said, voice muffled through his mouthful of food. There was a grain of rice clinging to his cheek.

Matthias gave him a disgusted look, “swallow before you speak.”

Theo thumbed away the piece of food and Dorian’s cheeks went pink. Äke’s eyebrows raised at the display of affection.

“Excuse me, are you wanting ze bouillabaisse?”

They were torn away from their conversation by a dulcet voice.

Zephyr jumped and Cas squeezed her hand before turning to address the girl who had spoken. 

She was beautiful. Her eyes were large and baby blue, like those dolls that were given to Zephyr as a kid that made her feel so ugly because of her dull dark eyes. Her skin was nearly paper white, a large contrast to Zephyr’s own brown skin. Her platinum blond hair fell almost to her waist, shining and perfect unlike Zephyr’s messy black locks.

“Beauxbatons student?” Cas asked, head tilted with genuine attention.

Zephyr's heart dropped down to her stomach and she turned back to her pie, stabbing at it. She slipped her hand out of his, clenching her fist in her lap.

"Buonasera, amore,” Blaise said husky, his italian silky smooth.

“Bonsoir,” the girl replied, giggling softly. 

“Sure, take the Bouillabaisse,” Matthias said, mouth agape as his gaze ran down the girl’s slender body.

Zephyr wanted to throttle every boy at the table. Except Dorian, who was wholeheartedly not into girls.

“I’m not done with it,” Dorian said, pulling the dish closer.

“Learn to share, Harlot,” Matthias hand shot out to grip the plate.

A staring match went down, both boys egging each other on.

“What is your name?” The girl did not reach for the bowl of stew.

“Casspian Blackthorn,” Cas said, smiling slightly.

He fucking smiled at her!

Rage boiled in her veins, the viper of jealousy sinking its fangs into Zephyr’s heart.

The girl did not sound remotely fazed by who he was. “I am Fleur Delacour. It is a pleazure to meet you.”

Her soft French accent was mesmerising and Zephyr itched to slam her cup onto the table.

She got up from her seat abruptly, “I need to use the bathroom—”

Cas’ hand shot out, grabbing her wrist gently before she could take another step away from the table.

“Is it really a pleasure to meet me? Most think it is a curse.” Cas turned his back to the girl, his body language making it obvious that he was done with the conversation.

Fleur gave a pretentious huff of annoyance and left. 

“Wait, Miss!” Matthias cried.

Cas tugged her back down to her seat.

“Jealous, are we?” Cas teased her.

Normally, his comment would normally be taken easily and replied with a snarky, “you wish.” The past few weeks of bottling up her growing love for the boy reached a breaking point–she could feel the cracks growing larger every second she spent with him. She had spent every damned second of her day drooling over Cas.

Right now, she could not mentally take anymore from anyone, including her closest friend. 

“Shove a fucking sock in it,” she whispered, unable to unclench her fist. “You know. Don’t pretend you don't.”

The table fell silent. Matthias and Dorian suddenly found the tablecloth incredibly intriguing.

Theo was pointing at his cup, “this looks new!”

Blaise nodded feverishly, even though everyone knew the settings were the same. They started examining the goblet with the passion of a Historian in a museum.

“Know what?” Cas sounded sincerely confused. He was a great actor. “Firefly, what’s—?”

“—do not call me that,” she snapped, reaching her limits. “Just shut up, Casspian.”

The other boys all flinched in unison.

“Told you so,” she heard Dorian hiss to Matthias.

She stood once more and said curtly to a flabbergasted Casspian, “goodnight. Do not follow me or else, I swear to god, I will cut off our friendship.”

Zephyr intended to storm out of the Great Hall, retreat to one of the secret passages and hole herself up there for the rest of eternity. Her plans were foiled as Cas trailed after her, her threat having absolutely no effect on him.

She managed to keep in her outburst until the wooden doors swung shut behind them. Then, she rounded on to him and tore into him, planning to rip his emotional state into shreds just because she could.

“You know, Casspian! Don't act like you're fucking dumb. You're just as smart as your parents and perhaps just as manipulative,” Zephyr bellowed, not caring if those in the hall could hear her. 

She knew her words were too harsh. She did not care.

“That was unfair. I have no clue what you're talking about!” Cas exclaimed, the tell-tale signs of anger gathering in him showing—his jaw clenched like he was preventing himself from saying something.

“You do!”

“Perhaps if you give me some clues—”

Zephyr cut him off, eyes flashing. “Fine, you want me to spell it out for you? I am in-fucking-love with you! Do you know how difficult it has been since our first kiss? I have been losing my goddamn mind when you didn't even acknowledge it happened. Twice! You kissed me twice and you never explained your intentions.”

His expression went blank and so she continued. “I hope you get the satisfaction you’re craving. Fuck off and leave me alone, you absolute bastard.”

“Zephyr—”

“Don’t you dare say another word. I’m actually going to punch you.”

“Zeph’, listen—”

“I swear to fucking Merlin!” Zephyr felt the last strands of her sanity snap as she launched herself at him, fist drawn back to deal some physical damage on top of the already dealt emotional carnage.

Casspian caught her fist with ease and used her momentum to pull her against his body. Without another second of hesitation, his lips were on hers, hard; unyielding, until she sagged against him.

Heat burst in Zephyr’s chest, a chain of fireworks going off in her stomach. It burned, bubbling up until she kissed him back to release the energy.

His lips were softer than she could ever imagine and sweeter than she could believe. This felt different from their previous kisses–there was nothing endangering either of them. It wasn't out of fear of losing each other, but from mutual affection.

Cas’ grip was tight enough to hold her firmly but not rough enough to bruise.

When they pulled apart, both of them were gasping for air but Cas’ wide grin was so worth almost suffocating.

“I love you too, you violent idiot,” he said, laughing as she closed her eyes, groaning. “I’ve been flirting with you for the entire year!”

“You’ve flirted with me since year one. How would I know if you liked me?”

“Have you seen me give anyone the same attention I give you? Besides, remember the blood pact?” Cas asked.

“Yeah?” She said cautiously.

“What were my exact words?”

“Loyalty, putting me first,” she waved her hand in the air vaguely. “So?”

“I phrased the words so that if we never dated, I wouldn't be able to court or marry anyone,” Cas said, pink flaring in his cheeks. “I vowed to be by your side forever and to always put your interest over anyone else's. It's practically a promise to be with you or no one else.”

“You swore yourself off from everyone but me?” Zephyr repeated, jaw agape.

“Yeah. I thought my attraction to you was obvious just by that vow. If I so much as consider making someone else my priority, I’ll drop dead.”

Zephyr stared at the boy, speechless. 

He shrugged, “I am devoted when it comes to love.”

“Hate you.”

“You love me."

“Unfortunately.”

Cas kissed her again. 

---

They stumbled back into the dining hall a couple of minutes later, grinned at each other. She never felt lighter. Professor Dumbledor had been about to give a speech but he paused to allow them to hurry back to their seats.

Dorian raised an expectant eyebrow at them.

“We worked things out,” Zephyr said, still blushing.

“We snogged each other silly,” Cas explained.

She slapped his arm.

“Finally!” Matthias said, “I wasn't sure how much more of you two denying your love for each other I could take.”

Dorian shot Cas a thumbs up.

“Now, since Mister Blackthorn and Miss Sylvester are ready, shall we begin?” The man exclaimed. “The moment has come. The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket—”

“The what?” Zephyr asked, alarmed.

Cas gave her a bemused look.

“—just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mister Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation,” slight applause, “and Mister Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports.”

The students clapped much louder for Bagman, which he waved at in acknowledgement. Crouch looked like a grouch, with his small moustache and deep frown.

“Mister Bagman and Mister Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament,” Dumbledore continued, “and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions’ efforts.”

Casspian, along with most of the other students, sat up at the word ‘champions’. 

Professor Dumbledor noticed the attention snapping back to him and he smiled as he said, “The casket, then, if you please, Mister Filch.”

Filch, who had been hovering in the corner like a dark cloud, now approached Professor Dumbledor with a large wooden chest embezzled with jewels and gems.

“At least we won't fit in there,” Theo joked.

Dorian snorted, “they could chop us up into itty bitty pieces.”

“Who knows, maybe that's one of the challenges,” Cas added.

“And we’ll finally be rid of you? Thank Merlin,” Matthias said with a grin.

“Being minced wouldn't stop me.” Cas said with a haughty sniff.

“The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mister Crouch and Mister Bagman,” said Professor Dumbledore as Filch placed the chest carefully on the table before him, “and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways . . . their magical prowess, their daring, their powers of deduction, and, of course, their ability to cope with danger.”

At this last word, the Hall was filled with a silence so absolute that nobody seemed to be breathing. Cas looked like Christmas had come early, his eyes shining.

“As you know, three champions compete in the tournament,” Professor Dumbledore went on calmly, “one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire.”

Professor Dumbledore took out his wand and tapped three times upon the top of the casket. The lid cracked slowly open and Cas craned his neck to see better.

Professor Dumbledore reached inside it and pulled out a large, wooden cup, filled to the brim with dancing blue-white flames.

“Awesome,” Cas gasped.

“You are such a nerd.” Dorian said with a pretentious roll of his blue eyes.

“Oh, shut it. I am not.”

“Sure you aren't, Mister hundred-percent-on-every-subject.”

The man closed the chest and placed the goblet carefully on top of it, where it would be clearly visible to everyone in the Hall. 

“Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet,” said Professor Dumbledore. “Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools.”

“The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete. To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation,” said Dumbledore, “I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line.”

“Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Goodnight to you all.”

---

“I’m sorry for the comment about your parents,” she whispered to him in bed that night.

“I know you didn't mean it,” he muttered back, hand splayed out on her back, idly tracing her spine.

Zephyr lifted her forehead from his chest and said, “it was still wrong and asshole-ly for me to say that. I’m sorry, I crossed a line.”

“Oh, Zephyr,” he said, kissing the crown of her head. “You can cross all of my lines and never face the consequences.”

“How are you planning to enter the tournament?” Zephyr asked, burying her face into his neck.

Cas shivered as she placed a ghost of a kiss against his throat, “Zephyr…”

“What?” She asked innocently.

The boy shifted, grip tightening slightly, “you’re going to be the death of me.”

“Tournament, how?” She pressed.

“I’m getting Zigi, the Six year, to put my name in. She is of age to join, so that’ll solve the problem of the age barrier,” he said with a sigh. “Don't worry about me, please. You know I’m more than capable of winning.”

Zephyr nodded. “Okay.”

 

Chapter 47: 4.6

Summary:

erm hi. yes. 2 months or so since my last update. broke up with my bf, found a new one, life is going good. work is stressful. i'm going to upload as many chapters as i can now, because i havent been motivated to write for a while

 

Dear Tom Riddle,

Perhaps I am feeling suicidal today, but I want to call you by your old name. Anyways, I'd like some Fizzing Wizzbees and Cauldron Cakes.

Class is okay. I'm holding my position at the top for some of my classes. Cas and I are neck-to-neck in Potions but Matthias has risen to second place.

Cheers,

Dorian.

---

The next morning, Cas and her were out of bed three hours before their usual wakeup time, especially since it was a Saturday. Cas wanted to see who was participating and impatiently dragged all of them up.

They, the four of them, stumbled into the Entrance Hall, dressed in muggle clothes (hoodies and jeans). Many other students were there already–it seemed like they weren't the only curious onlookers.

Zigi, an African girl with a seriously impressive afro, winked at Cas before stepping over the age line. She dropped a scrap of parchment in and Cas tensed.

The scrap of paper disintegrated in the flames and Zigi left the cup. He let out a sigh of relief. It worked.

Zephyr leaned against him, grinning as he folded her into his side instinctively. They were definitely going through their honeymoon phase of their relationship, and she was going to savour it.

Cedric, the Hufflepuff, was the next to enter his name in. A crowd of his fans squealed as he smiled at them and Zephyr couldn't help but wave, much to Casspian’s chagrin.

“I’m better looking,” Cas grumbled quietly. “I’m smarter, faster and richer.”

“You're also the most grumpy person alive,” she teased.

He frowned thoughtfully, “the most? I’d place myself in the top ten, but the most? Doubtful. Snape would have that title.”

Zephyr snorted at his words and was rewarded with a grin. “Oh, look.”

Harry, Ron and Hermione waved as they approached them. Ron’s eyes rounded as he caught sight of Cas' hand placed possessively on her hip.

“Blimey,” Ron gasped, red-faced. “Are you two…?”

“Dating, yeah,” Cas said firmly.

Dorian whistled at his words. “Can't believe it either.”

Hermione grinned, hugging Zephyr tightly, “I knew it! I could tell by the way you two looked at each other since last night!”

Zephyr giggled, squeezing back. Then, she turned to face Cas, a mischievous look on her face, “we’re dating?”

Cas’ jaw fell open. He exclaimed, “was the kissing not indicative?”

Ron’s face turned even redder. Harry snickered at his friend’s expression.

“I mean,” she shrugged as nonchalantly as possible. “Kissing and dating are two separate things, right Hermione?”

The girl, bless her, nodded solemnly, “it is.”

“Well then,” Casspian said. “Will you be my official girlfriend, Zephyr Sylvester-Lee?”

“Is there an unofficial girlfriend?” Zephyr frowned, intending to draw out Cas’ suffering.

He groaned. “Firefly, please…”

“I think he’s about to cry,” Matthias said, laughing at the fake pained expression on Cas’ face.

The boy sniffled dramatically and began swiping at his eyes.

“There, there, you big baby,” Zephyr patted Cas’ arm. “I’ll be your girlfriend.”

“Yes!” Cas cheered, voice echoing through the room.

All eyes turned to them but Cas seemed oblivious to the attention and picked her up, spinning her about.

“Get a room!” Dorian grumbled. “We haven't even had breakfast yet.”

Zephyr aimed a kick to his thigh and he grunted, settling her back down. “Ow.”

“Rethinking my decision,” she said.

He gave her his best puppy eyes.

“So, has anyone from Hogwarts put their names in yet?” Ron asked them.

“Erm,” Zephyr gave Cas a glance. “He did.”

“What?” Ron and Hermione exclaimed together.

“Shh,” Cas hissed, glowering at them.

Hermione dropped her voice, “but how?”

“I got a sixth year to put my name in. I can't cross it but that doesn't mean someone who can isn’t able to put my name in,” Cas shrugged. “Simple loopholes.”

“Bloody hell, I didn't think of that,” Ron whispered. “That's genius!”

Harry frowned, “do you want to get chosen?”

“Not really,” Cas said, idly reaching for her hand. “It's more of a way to flaunt my ability to break rules. If I do get chosen, I should be fine as well. I can win the tournament quickly.”

He sounded so confident that even Hermione believed him.

“Oh, look,” Cas said in a drawl. “Trouble.”

Fred, George, and Lee Jordan hurrying down the staircase, all three of them looking extremely excited.

“Done it,” Fred said in a triumphant whisper to the seven of them. “Just taken it.”

“What?” said Ron, bewildered.

“The Aging Potion, dung brains,” said Fred.

“One drop each,” George added, rubbing his hands together with glee. “We only need to be a few months older.”

Cas raised an eyebrow. 

“We’re going to split the thousand Galleons between the three of us if one of us wins,” said Lee, grinning broadly.

“I’m not sure this is going to work, you know,” said Hermione warningly. “I’m sure Dumbledore will have thought of this.”

Fred, George, and Lee ignored her.

“Ready?” Fred said to the other two, quivering with excitement. “C’mon, then–I’ll go first.”

Fred pulled a slip of parchment out of his pocket bearing the words Fred Weasley — Hogwarts.

He walked right up to the edge of the line and stood there, rocking on his toes like a diver preparing for a fifty-foot drop. 

“Five gallons it fails,” Cas whispered.

“On Cas’ side,” Matthias said immediately.

“For loyalty sake, I’ll be on Zephyr’s,” Dorian winked at her.

“You're on,” Zephyr said back. She dug through her pocket for the money and slapped it into his palm.

He blinked at her.

“I already know it’s going to fail,” she said with an eye roll.

Dorian handed over the coins as well, shrugging. “If your girlfriend says it’ll fail, I trust her word.”

“How about my word?” Cas frowned, shoving the coins into his robes where they jingled against each other.

“Remains to be seen.”

The brunette scowled.

Fred heaved a deep breath and stepped over the line. For a second, nothing happened. George yelled out his victory and leapt in to join his brother.

There was a loud sizzling sound, and both twins were hurled out of the golden circle as though they had been thrown by an invisible shot-putter.

They landed painfully, ten feet away on the cold stone floor, and to add insult to injury, there was a loud popping noise, and both of them sprouted identical long white beards.The entrance hall rang with laughter.

Even Fred and George joined in, once they had gotten to their feet and taken a good look at each other’s beards.

“There is a reason why no one bets against you, Cas,” she said with a fond smile. “You don't lose.”

He pressed a kiss to her cheek, grinning wildly.

“I did warn you,” said a deep, amused voice, and everyone turned to see Professor Dumbledore coming out of the Great Hall.

He surveyed Fred and George, his eyes twinkling. “I suggest you both go up to Madam Pomfrey. She is already tending to Miss Fawcett, of Ravenclaw, and Mr. Summers, of Hufflepuff, both of whom decided to age themselves up a little too. Though I must say, neither of their beards is anything like as fine as yours.”

Cas winked at her. He was the only one who had succeeded, thus far.

Fred and George set off for the hospital wing, accompanied by Lee, who was howling with laughter.

The rest of them trooped off to breakfast, still giggling over the Weasley Twins beard.

The decorations in the Great Hall had changed this morning. As it was Halloween, a cloud of live bats was fluttering around the enchanted ceiling, while hundreds of carved pumpkins leered from every corner. 

“What if the bats take a shit on us?” Dorian asked worriedly.

Matthias wrinkled his nose, “gross.”

“But what if?”

“Nothing we can do about it,” Cas said and grinned, “look! Pumpkin pie!”

“Do you want to scout the area for the tournament?” Dorian asked, settling down in front of them, next to Matthias.

Dorian reached for the roasted chicken on the table, his gaze ravangous.

Zephyr’s eyebrows crept upwards, “that’s genius, but wouldn't the challenges be well-hidden?”

“I am one,” Dorian gave her a look. “And it wouldn't hurt to try.”

“I’m smarter,” Cas jumped in, eager as always to show off. “Right, Zeph’?”

Matthias turned his head, blocking out their chatter.

She sighed, “if you say so.”

“I’m the best in Potions, Arithmancy and Muggle Studies.” Dorian said, eyes narrowed.

“Oh yeah?” Cas leaned forward and Zephyr groaned. “I’m top in Charms, DADA and Runes. My subjects are harder so I win.”

“I…” Matthias deflated, “am not top in any subjects.”

Dorian patted him on the back sympathetically.

“And I hold first place for Care of Mythical Creatures, Herbology, History of Magic and Transfiguration,” Zephyr said dryly. “So I’m smarter than all of you, by your logic.”

“You're actually first in four subjects?” Matthias blinked.

“Yes, I am,” she said with a shrug but she couldn't help the pride that shot through her. “You two compete for the flashier subjects so I work on the ones you deem boring and ta-da.”

“That's my girl,” Cas said with a grin.

Her face heated at his words.

“So are we on for later or not?” Dorian asked.

“I’m down if you are,” Cas glanced at her.

She nodded and reached for a slice of pizza that had red cheese oozing out of the crust to mimic blood. 

“Angelina from Gryffindor put her name in,” Dorian said suddenly. “Also the Diggory fellow.”

“Didn't Warrington put his in as well?” Matthias asked. “I heard someone talk about it.”

“Yeah. People are upset about it. They're saying that they didn't want a Slytherin Champion.”

The four of them scowled. Sure, Slytherin was notoriously bad, but it was still unfair to discriminate against everyone in their house just because of some evil people that were their alumnis.

Other houses also produced wizards that did horrible things but it was always excused because the Slytherin had always been the bad guys and it was to remain that way.

“Hills entered his as well,” Matthias said quietly. “Saw him do it after dinner. Seemed embarrassed about it too.”

“Hope he dies,” Cas said with a snarl, a repeat of their conversation before.

“Cas!” Zephyr scolded. “Not in front of Dorian.”

“I do hate him, but he is my brother,” Dorian said, looking troubled. “I am also a Blood Traitor, so say what you wish, Blackthorn.”

Cas inclined his head in acknowledgement before taking a bite from his pie.

Zephyr chewed the inside of her lip before saying hesitantly, “but Hills doesn't seem like the type to enter a competition like this. I mean he’s the definition of a coward. He pushed me down the stairs from behind. He backs down when Cas challenges him. It doesn't feel right.”

“He pushed you down the stairs?” Matthias looked up from his food. “When?”

“A couple of weeks ago,” Zephyr waved his concern off. “Doesn't matter. I got healed up.”

“Wasn't it the day you went around with a limp?” Matthias frowned. 

“I think it does matter,” Dorian said, eyes cold. “I can't care less if that fucker is related to me–you are my family, not him. I swear to god, Hill’s better watch out.”

“Okay, mister judge, jury and executioner,” Zephyr rolled her eyes. “The point is, your brother will never put himself into harm’s way like this.”

For some reason, it really unsettled her. 

“I suppose,” Dorian said, “but it’ll also give him a lot of fame. He likes that.”

Cas met her eyes, “you're too nice, Firefly. You shouldn't worry about assholes like Hills.”

“Cheers to that,” Matthias raised his goblet. “He won't give two shits about you, so why should you?”

She shrugged, knowing they wouldn't understand the strange dread she was feeling.

Once breakfast was done, they headed out of the room towards the grounds of the school. Since it was Halloween, there was no classes, which was definitely a good decision because she could already imagine the pranks that would occur if there were.

They pushed out into the cold autumn air and Zephyr shivered, cursing internally for not bringing a jacket. She had worn a hoodie and jeans, but it was insufficient for keeping the chill away.

Cas offered his leather jacket and she declined, seeing that he only wore a thin long-sleeved shirt beneath. Dorian, icy inside and out, was only clad in a polo shirt and shorts but seemed unfazed by the cold. Matthias, being equally sensitive to the cold as her, was nice and cosy in his puffer jacket.

They started to comb the area methodically. First, the grass, looking and prodding for a hatch or something. Matthias, at one point, had to haul Dorian out from inside the hollow of a tree. 

They came up empty. Cas frowned, shaking dirt from his hair, “the lake, maybe?”

Dorian scowled, “I’m not getting wet.”

In a flash, Cas’ wand was out and he summoned a jet of water that hit Dorian right in the face. The blond boy spluttered, offering Casspian a deadly glare.

“Don't you dare,” Matthias warned as Cas’ gaze turned to him.

“You're wet now,” Cas said cheerfully and gestured towards the still water.

With a groan, Dorian dove into the lake. 

He surfaced, calling out, “c’mon Arnoux, the water is nice and freezing.”

The ginger closed his eyes, looking like he was praying for patience before he unzipped his jacket and jumped in. 

“Whoo!” Matthias broke through the water, “holy shit! It’s fucking cold. I’m turning into an ice block.”

“Don't waste your energy talking,” Dorian told him, and his head disappeared into the murky liquid.

Cas snickered at them and sat down at the edge, beckoning to her to join him.

Zephyr approached warily, “you wouldn't push me in, would you?”

“No,” he said, blinking innocently at her.

She edged away and said, “nope, I do not trust that.”

Cas laughed, a rich and deep sound that warmed her stomach, “smart girl.”

She settled a couple of metres away, stripping off her shoes and socks so she could submerge her ankles in the water.

A couple of seconds later, hands grasped her legs and she screeched, throwing herself backwards. Cas sat up, alarmed, but it was only Dorian with a shit-eating grin upon his face.

“Asshole,” she aimed a kick at him which he blocked with his forearm.

“You nearly busted my eardrums, Zephyr,” he complained and hoisted himself up onto the grass. “Fucking hell, it’s freezing.”

Matthias dragged himself out a couple seconds later, and flopped onto the grass.

“Are you okay?” Zephyr asked.

Matthias raised his hand in a lazy thumbs up.

Dorian shook his head like a dog, spraying the both of them with droplets of cold water. Cas groaned, flipping Dorian off.

“There's nothing down there,” he said, sprawling on his back, sunlight hitting his face. “Just a large squid that tried to eat me.”

Zephyr withdrew her feet from the water and crossed her legs beneath her.

“Damn,” Cas said with a frown. “I was so sure it would be here.”

He flicked his wand at her and said, “Aqua Evaporate.”

The water from her clothes hissed off in a puff of steam that left her feeling nice and warm. Cas performed the charm thrice more to dry everyone.

They lounged around for a couple of hours, sleeping in the shade of a nearby tree and gossiping about people to pass the time. They had all simultaneously given up on finding the tasks for the Triwizard Tournament.

Zephyr lifted her head from Cas’ lap, having used him as a (rather muscular) pillow. “We should go soon.”

Cas blinked, setting his textbook down beside him, “what time is it?”

Mattjias glanced at his watch, “ten past five. We’ll be late soon.”

“Durmstrangs,” Cas said, straightening.

Approaching them were the Durmstrangs students, marching towards the castle led by Viktor Krum himself.

A couple of boys hollered at her as they passed but Cas’ and Dorian’s dark expression caused them to hurry by. Matthias watched them, eyebrows raised.

Matthias rolled his eyes, “they’re just perverts, don't let them get to you.”

“Dumb-stanks, more like,” Cas said in disgust. “Absolutely no women-respecting bone in their body.”

Zephyr stood, stretching her sore muscles out before heading back to the castle.

“C’mon,” she said, grabbing her boyfriend’s wrist as she passed. “Let's get to the Halloween feast.”

The Grand Hall was the most crowded she’d ever seen. Even their table, normally empty, had a handful of students sitting on one side. 

They threw the four of them fearful stares as they sat, in their usual formation. Theo and Blaise eventually made their way over as well, ignoring Draco’s glared.

She reached for Cas’ hand, claustrophobia tightening her throat. He laced their fingers together beneath the table, his hands rough and calloused against hers. His thumb slowly rubbed across the side of her hand.

The Goblet of Fire stood before Professor Dumbledor’s seat, alight with pale blue flames.

“Good luck,” she whispered to Cas.

He shrugged and said, “unlikely to be me, but I sure hope it is.”

Dorian snorted, “we both know it's likely to be you. The Goblet of Fire is smart enough to know that you are the best option.”

“Was that a compliment?” Cas marvelled. “You’ve grown soft, Bloodtraitor.”

The blond rolled his eyes as he reached for a platter of boneless chicken coated in a sticky brown sauce. 

Dorian, Theo and Blaise seemed to be one of the few who were capable of eating. Everyone, including Casspian, was too filled with anxious anticipation. 

Just when Zephyr thought her boyfriend (she grinned at the word) was about to explode, the plates were cleared, signalling the end of dinner.

Dumbledore stood and silence fell like a heavy blanket of snow across the hall. She shivered, goosebumps appearing across her arms.

Cas’ grip on her tightened but she didn't care. She prayed that Cas wasn't chosen. She’d rather him safe and disappointed than in danger and happy.

“Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision,” said Professor Dumbledore. “I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions’ names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber—” he indicated the door behind the staff table, “—where they will be receiving their first instructions.”

He took out his wand and gave a great sweeping wave with it; at once, all the candles except those inside the carved pumpkins were extinguished, plunging them into a state of semidarkness. Now it was her turn to grab Cas’ arm. He let out a grunt of pain.

The Goblet of Fire now shone more brightly than anything in the whole Hall, the sparkling bright, bluey-whiteness of the flames almost blinding.

It was near silent now. Zephyr could feel the tension mounting, higher and higher as the seconds ticked by.

Dorian, always unimpressed, said in his drawl, “a magical cup has a flair for the dramatics.”

There was a small round of giggles at his words, enough to relax some people.

The flames inside the goblet turned suddenly red again. Sparks began to fly from it. Next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it. The whole room gasped.

“Please be me,” whispered Cas like a prayer. “Please, please, please.”

Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm’s length, so that he could read it by the light of the flames, which had turned back to blue-white

“The champion for Durmstrang,” he read, in a strong, clear voice, “will be Viktor Krum.”

A storm of applause and cheering swept the Hall. Dorian and Cas rolled their eyes as Viktor Krum rose from the Slytherin table and slouched up toward Dumbledore. Matthias and Blaise cheered loudly. 

Krum turned right, walked along the staff table, and disappeared through the door into the next chamber.

He did not seem surprised nor excited at being chosen.

“Bravo, Viktor!” boomed Karkaroff, so loudly that everyone could hear him, even over all the applause. “Knew you had it in you!”

“Always eager to lay claim on their champion,” Cas said with distaste.

The clapping and chatting died down. Now everyone’s attention was focused again on the goblet, which, seconds later, turned red once more. A second piece of parchment shot out of it, propelled by the flames.

“The champion for Beauxbatons,” said Dumbledore, “is Fleur Delacour!”

“Isn’t that the girl from yesterday?” Zephyr craned her neck.

“The one you were jealous of?” Cas teased, eyes twinkling.

“Fuck off,” she said with a sigh.

As the girl disappeared, Cas leaned forward in his seat. It was time for the Hogwarts champion.

The Goblet of Fire turned red once more; sparks showered out of it; the tongue of flame shot high into the air, and from its tip Dumbledore pulled the third piece of parchment.

“The Hogwarts champion,” he called, “is Cedric Diggory!”

“No!” Cas groaned, head falling onto the table.

Thank the fucking gods. She heaved a sigh of relief and rubbed at Cas’ slumped shoulders.

Dorian snickered at his disappointment. 

Matthias raised his goblet to his lips, “haven't you had enough of near death situations?”

“Still,” Cas whined.

“Excellent!” Dumbledore called happily as at last the tumult died down. “Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real—”

But Dumbledore suddenly stopped speaking, and it was apparent to everybody what had distracted him. The fire in the goblet had just turned red again. Sparks were flying out of it. 

Cas sat up, almost standing from his seat, grey eyes bright with hope. Zephyr’s stomach plummeted.

A long flame shot suddenly into the air, and borne upon it were two pieces of parchment.

“Five champions?” Dorian whispered, eyes wide. “No way!”

Dumbledore reached out a long hand and seized the two pieces of paper. He held it out and stared at the names written upon them. 

There was a long pause, during which Dumbledore stared at the slips in his hands, and everyone in the room stared at Dumbledore. 

And then Dumbledore cleared his throat and read out, “Harry Potter and—”

“Zephyr Sylvester-Lee.”

Chapter 48: 4.7

Summary:

i give up on the dates ive confused myself. anyways next chap.

Dear Dorian,

You may call me by any name you wish. This is your privilege alone.

I am glad that you are faring well in school. Make me proud and more treats will come your way.

Your candy is attached, as per your request.

Yours,

Tom Riddle/ Voldemort/ Voldy/ Voldy-shorts.

---

Everyone’s eyes were on her and Harry. Zephyr was suffocating. Had it always been this difficult to breathe?

Cas’ jaw was clenched, “you didn't put your name in, did you?”

“No!” She exclaimed, hurt filling her voice. “You were with me yesterday!”

“I know,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry. You're right.”

Dorian shook his head, “then how?” His eyes narrowed, “fuck.”

“What?” Cas asked urgently as Harry stood.

Zephyr slowly got onto shaking legs.

“Hills. He didn't enter his name. He entered hers.”

Zephyr could see the grin upon Dorian’s brother’s face. Dread filled her. He did enter her name.

“I’ll kill you!” Casspian roared, wand out. “Ava—”

Dorian grabbed Cas and hauled him back, a hand over his mouth. Several students had jumped back, scrambling away from the boy.

“Are you nuts?” Matthias hissed. “You’ll be arrested!”

“I don't care!”

Zephyr stepped forward, heart thumping in her chest. 

"Zephyr will!" Dorian shot back.

“Harry Potter! Zephyr Sylvester-Lee!” Dumbledor again. “Harry, Zephyr! Up here, if you please!”

She could not mentally move past the fact that Casspian was about to use an Unforgivable Curse on Hills.

She met Harry halfway, his face reflecting the pure shock on hers.

“I didn't put mine in,” she whispered.

“Neither did I,” he replied shakily.

“Well...through the door, Harry, Zephyr,” said Dumbledore. He wasn’t smiling.

They moved off along the teachers’ table. Everyone was staring. Zephyr wanted to scream. She held it back, burning pressure building behind her eyes. She could not cry right now.

Zephyr stumbled through the door out of the Great Hall and found herself in a smaller room, lined with paintings of witches and wizards. A fire was roaring in the fireplace opposite her.

The faces in the portraits turned to look at them as they entered. 

Zephyr saw a wizened witch flit out of the frame of her picture and into the one next to it, which contained a wizard with a walrus moustache. The wizened witch started whispering in his ear.

Viktor Krum, Cedric Diggory, and Fleur Delacour were grouped around the fire.

They looked strangely impressive, silhouetted against the flames.

Krum, hunched-up and brooding, was leaning against the mantelpiece, slightly apart from the other two. He nodded politely at her, though he looked puzzled.

Cedric was standing with his hands behind his back, staring into the fire.

Fleur Delacour looked around when they walked in and threw back her sheet of long, silvery hair.

Zephyr felt the hot burn of tears zing her eyes. She turned away, hand slapping over her mouth as a sob escaped. She would not be able to do this.

She wasn't Casspian or even Dorian. She was not fearless like her boyfriend and confident like her best friend.

She was just Zephyr.

“Zephyr,” Harry said gently, placing a soothing hand on her shoulder. She shrugged him off.

“What is it?” Fleur said. “Do zey want us back in ze Hall?”

There was yelling, a small explosion and the door was thrown open. Casspian flew in, Dorian, Matthias and the other two snakes holding back a couple of teachers from grabbing Cas.

Her boyfriend grasped her, pulling her into his chest. She broke, sobs wrecking her body. Her knees buckled and Cas grunted, adjusting his grip to hold her up.

“You’ll be okay, I swear it,” he promised, a hint of desperation in his voice. “I am so sorry.”

Cas’ hands smoothed down her hair, squeezed her waist, slipped up her arm. It seemed like he couldn't get enough of her, like he was afraid that she was going to disappear if he let go.

Ludo Bagman managed to evade Dorian’s guard and scrambled into the room. He grabbed her, yanked her away from her boyfriend.

Cas growled, his wand brandished but she shook her head. He lowered his weapon reluctantly.

Harry was pulled forward as well. 

“Extraordinary!” he muttered, squeezing her arm. “Absolutely extraordinary! Gentlemen, ladies,” he added, approaching the fireside and addressing the other three. “May I introduce—incredible though it may seem—the fourth and fifth Triwizard champions?”

Viktor straightened up. His surly face darkened as he surveyed them. Cedric looked nonplussed. He looked from Bagman to them and back again as though sure he must have misheard what Bagman had said.

Fleur Delacour, however, tossed her hair, smiling, and said, “Oh, vairy funny joke, Meester Bagman.”

“Joke?” Bagman repeated, bewildered. “No, no, not at all! Their names just came out of the Goblet of Fire!”

Krum’s thick eyebrows contracted slightly. Cedric was still looking politely bewildered. Fleur frowned.

“But evidently zair ’as been a mistake,” she said contemptuously to Bagman. “Zey cannot compete. Zey are too young.”

“Exactly!” Cas cried out. “You cannot make her—”

“Remove him,” Bagman said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Do it, and I’ll rip you to shreds.”

“I suggest you listen to him,” Zephyr said. Her voice was quite weak, even to her ears. “That's Casspian Blackthorn.”

“Blackthorn,” Bagman paused and then shrugged. “Well…it is amazing. But, as you know, the age restriction was only imposed this year as an extra safety measure. And as their names came out of the goblet…I mean, I don’t think there can be any ducking out at this stage. It’s down in the rules, you’re obliged. They will just have to do the best they—”

The door behind them opened again, and a large group of people came in: Professor Dumbledore, followed closely by Mr. Crouch, Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Snape.

Dorian and Matthias darted in as well, eyes defiantly staring down Dumbledore until the man obliged, nodding. They joined Casspian, forming a wall before her.

Everyone in the room, including the teachers, warily watched the three boys. It seemed like they were all reminded of who they were—Casspian Blackthorn, son of two of the most powerful magic folk; Matthias Arnoux, son of one of the most deadly mass murderers; and Dorian Harlot, who took down an entire society of dark wizards at the ripe age of eleven.

Not even the devil could drag these boys out. Now they stood there, tension lining their bodies, both of their wands out.

“Stand down,” she said weakly.

Cas’ gaze shot to hers, “what?” His voice was choked.

“You heard me.”

“Madame Maxime!” said Fleur, striding over to her headmistress. “Zey are saying zat zis little zids are to compete also!”

Madame Maxime had drawn herself up to her full, and considerable, height. The top of her handsome head brushed the candle-filled chandelier, and her gigantic black-satin bosom swelled.

“What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?” she said imperiously.

“I’d rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore,” said Professor Karkaroff.

He was wearing a steely smile, and his blue eyes were like chips of ice. “Three Hogwarts champions? I don’t remember anyone telling me the host school is allowed three champions—or have I not read the rules carefully enough?”

He laughed without humour.

“Watch your tone, Karkaroff,” snapped Casspian.

“Detention!” Professor McGonalgall said, appalled. “You cannot speak to a teacher like that.”

“Watch me,” Casspian said, baring his teeth. He was all blind rage and animalistic anger. 

“C’est impossible,” said Madame Maxime, whose enormous hand with its many superb opals was resting upon Fleur’s shoulder. “’Ogwarts cannot ’ave three champions. It is most injust.”

“We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore,” said Karkaroff, his steely smile still in place, though his eyes were colder than ever. “Otherwise, we would, of course, have brought along a wider selection of candidates from our own schools.”

She wanted to tell him to be glad that Cas hadn't been chosen. There was no winning against Casspian Blackthorn.

“It’s no one’s fault but Potter’s and Sylvester’s, Karkaroff,” said Snape softly. His black eyes were alight with malice. “Don’t go blaming Dumbledore for their determination to break rules. They had been crossing lines ever since they arrived here—”

Cas’ and Dorian’s furious gazes locked on the man. Zephyr saw the exact moment both boys swore to make their Housemaster’s life a living hell. Matthias, the rational one of their group, flung his arms out to the sides to block the two boys from advancing onto Snape.

“Thank you, Severus,” said Dumbledore firmly, and Snape went quiet, though his eyes still glinted malevolently through his curtain of greasy black hair.

Professor Dumbledore was now looking down at them. They looked right back at him. Zephyr’s fear was slowly ebbing away, her mind fading into a cool logical state. Scared Zephyr was unwanted and unneeded here.

“Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Harry?” he asked calmly.

“No,” said Harry.

Dumbledor turned to her. “Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Zephyr?”

“No.”

“Did you ask an older student to put it into the Goblet of Fire for you?” said Professor Dumbledore.

They both shook their heads.

“Ah, but of course zey are lying!” cried Madame Maxime.

Snape was now shaking his head, his lip curling. Cas seemed torn between attacking his professor or attacking the woman.

“He could not have crossed the Age Line,” said Professor McGonagall sharply. “I am sure we are all agreed on that—”

“Dumbly-dorr must ’ave made a mistake wiz ze line,” said Madame Maxime, shrugging.

“It is possible, of course,” said Dumbledore politely.

Cas snorted, causing everyone to look at him. He straightened, “Hill’s put Zephyr’s name in. He’s been assaulting her since day one.”

“Do you have proof?” Snaps asked, beady eyes narrowed.

“No, but—”

“Then you cannot accuse him.”

Cas stepped forward and Dorian hauled him back. The blond said, “we will find proof.”

“Dumbledore, you know perfectly well you did not make a mistake!” said Professor McGonagall angrily. “Really, what nonsense! They could not have crossed the line themselves, and as Professor Dumbledore believes that they did not persuade an older student to do it for them, I’m sure that should be good enough for everybody else!”

“Mister Crouch…Mister Bagman,” said Karkaroff, his voice unctuous once more, “you are our objective judges. Surely you will agree that this is most irregular?”

Bagman wiped his round, boyish face with his handkerchief and looked at Mister Crouch, who was standing outside the circle of the firelight, his face half hidden in shadow. He looked slightly eerie, the half darkness making him look much older, giving him an almost skull-like appearance.

When he spoke, however, it was in his usual curt voice. “We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament.”

“No,” Cas exclaimed. “Let me compete in her place! Please!”

“Shut up, boy,” sneered Madame Maxime.

“Well, Barty knows the rule book back to front,” said Bagman, beaming and turning back to Karkaroff and Madame Maxime, as though the matter was now closed.

“I insist upon resubmitting the names of the rest of my students,” said Karkaroff. He had dropped his unctuous tone and his smile now. He was glaring daggers at them. “You will set up the Goblet of Fire once more, and we will continue adding names until each school has three champions. It’s only fair, Dumbledore.”

“But Karkaroff, it doesn’t work like that,” said Bagman. “The Goblet of Fire’s just gone out—it won’t reignite until the start of the next tournament—”

“—in which Durmstrang will most certainly not be competing!” exploded Karkaroff. “After all our meetings and negotiations and compromises, I little expected something of this nature to occur! I have half a mind to leave now!”

“Empty threat, Karkaroff,” growled a voice from near the door. “You can’t leave your champion now. He’s got to compete. They’ve all got to compete. Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore said. Convenient, eh?”

Moody had just entered the room. He limped toward the fire, and with every right step he took, there was a loud clunk.

Magical contract. Those two words pulled the floor from beneath her feet. She swayed and Cas was by her side instantly, arm wrapped protectively around her whilst drawing her to his side.

“I’ll break the contract,” he swore quietly. “I will get you out of this.”

“But Cas,” she whispered, trembling. “We both know it isn't possible.”

Hope fled from his eyes. His shoulders shook as he pulled her closer like he was trying to fuse their bodies together.

“Convenient?” said Karkaroff, ignoring them. “I’m afraid I don’t understand you, Moody.”

“Don’t you?” said Moody quietly. “It’s very simple, Karkaroff. Someone put their names in that goblet knowing they would have to compete if it came out.”

“Evidently, someone ’oo wished to give ’Ogwarts three bites at ze apple!” said Madame Maxime.

“I quite agree, Madame Maxime,” said Karkaroff, bowing to her. “I shall be lodging complaints with the Ministry of Magic and the International Confederation of Wizards—"

“If anyone’s got reason to complain, it’s Potter and Sylvester,” growled Moody, “but…funny thing…I don’t hear them saying a word…”

“Because ze boy is speaking for ze girl!”

‘Ze boy’ glared hard at Madam Maxime. “You leave her alone.”

“Why should zey complain?” burst out Fleur Delacour, stamping her foot. “’Zey ’as zed chance to compete, ‘aven’t zey? We ’ave all been ’oping to be chosen for weeks and weeks! Zed honour for our schools! A thousand Galleons in prize money— zis is a chance many would die for!”

“Maybe someone’s hoping they are going to die for it,” said Moody, with the merest trace of a growl.

Zephyr’s heart stopped. The world spun before her eyes. She already knew Hills hated her. She didn't realise that he wanted her dead.

Ludo Bagman, who was looking very anxious, bounced nervously up and down on his feet and said, “Moody, old man...what a thing to say!”

“We all know Professor Moody considers the morning wasted if he hasn’t discovered six plots to murder him before lunchtime,” said Karkaroff loudly. “Apparently he is now teaching his students to fear assassination too. An odd quality in a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Dumbledore, but no doubt you had your reasons.”

“Imagining things, am I?” growled Moody. “Seeing things, eh? It was a skilled witch or wizard who put their names in that goblet…”

“Skilled?” Dorian laughed bitterly. “My brother is anything but. He is a filthy, cowardly bastard.”

The sheer abhorrence in his tone caused half of the room to flinch.

“Ah, what evidence is zere of zat?” said Madame Maxime, throwing up her huge hands.

“Because they hoodwinked a very powerful magical object!” said Moody. “It would have needed an exceptionally strong Confundus Charm to bamboozle that goblet into forgetting that only three schools compete in the tournament…I’m guessing they submitted Potter’s and Sylvester’s names under a fourth and fifth school, to make sure they were the only one in their category…”

Cas stilled. “Hills would not have the ability to do that. No student would.”

“No student but you, Blackthorn,” Karkaroff said.

“Me?” Cas gasped.

“Him?” Exclaimed Zephyr, Matthias and Dorian simultaneously.

“He's the last person to endanger Zephyr—”

“He would never put me in danger—”

“You seem to have given this a great deal of thought, Moody,” said Karkaroff coldly, “and a very ingenious theory it is—though of course, I heard you recently got it into your head that one of your birthday presents contained a cunningly disguised basilisk egg, and smashed it to pieces before realizing it was a carriage clock. So you’ll understand if we don’t take you entirely seriously.”

“There are those who’ll turn innocent occasions to their advantage,” Moody retorted in a menacing voice. “It’s my job to think the way Dark wizards do, Karkaroff—as you ought to remember…”

“Alastor!” said Dumbledore warningly. Mad-eye fell silent.

“How this situation arose, we do not know,” said Dumbledore, speaking to everyone gathered in the room. “It seems to me, however, that we have no choice but to accept it. Cedric, Zephyr and Harry have been chosen to compete in the tournament. This, therefore, they will do…”

“Ah, but Dumbly-dorr—”

“My dear Madame Maxime, if you have an alternative, I would be delighted to hear it.”

Dumbledore waited, but Madame Maxime did not speak, she merely glared. She wasn’t the only one either. Snape looked furious; Karkaroff livid; Bagman, however, looked rather excited.

“Well, shall we crack on, then?” he said, rubbing his hands together and smiling around the room. “Got to give our champions their instructions, haven’t we? Barty, want to do the honors?”

Mr. Crouch seemed to come out of a deep reverie. “Could you please escort the three non-champions out?”

“Over my dead—” Cas began.

She peeled herself away and grabbed his hand. “Go. I’ll be okay. Please.”

Matthias grasped Casspian’s shoulder. “She’s right.”

Cas leaned down, pressing a fumbling kiss to her lips and muttered, “be careful.”

Then, they left the room. The door slammed shut behind them and she had never felt more alone.

“Yes,” Barty said, “instructions. Yes…the first task…”

He moved forward into the firelight. There were dark shadows beneath his eyes and a thin, papery look about his wrinkled skin that had not been there at the Quidditch World Cup.

“The first task is designed to test your daring,” he told Zephyr, Harry, Cedric, Fleur, and Viktor, “so we are not going to be telling you what it is. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard…very important…”

If the cup wanted daring, it should have chosen Cas.

“The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the panel of judges. The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament. The champions will face the first challenge armed only with their wands. They will receive information about the second task when the first is over. Owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament, the champions are exempted from end-of-year tests.”

“Wait!” Zephyr blurted out. “We can ask help from students, then?”

“Yes.”

She sagged in relief. Cas could help. She had a higher chance of winning.

Mr. Crouch turned to look at Dumbledore. “I think that’s all, is it, Albus?”

“I think so,” said Dumbledore, who was looking at Mr. Crouch with mild concern. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to stay at Hogwarts tonight, Barty?”

“No, Dumbledore, I must get back to the Ministry,” said Mr. Crouch. “It is a very busy, very difficult time at the moment… I've left young Weatherby in charge. Very enthusiastic…a little overenthusiastic, if truth be told…”

“You’ll come and have a drink before you go, at least?” said Dumbledore

“Come on, Barty, I’m staying!” said Bagman brightly. “It’s all happening at Hogwarts now, you know, much more exciting here than at the office!”

“I think not, Ludo,” said Crouch with a touch of his old impatience.

“Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime–a nightcap?” said Dumbledore.

But Madame Maxime had already put her arm around Fleur’s shoulders and was leading her swiftly out of the room. Zephyr could hear them both talking very fast in French as they went off into the Great Hall. Karkaroff beckoned to Krum, and they, too, exited, though in silence

Zephyr and Harry exchanged wary looks. 

“Harry, Cedric, I suggest you go up to bed,” said Dumbledore, smiling at both of them. “I am sure Gryffindor and Hufflepuff are waiting to celebrate with you, and it would be a shame to deprive them of this excellent excuse to make a great deal of mess and noise.”

“And Zephyr,” Dumbledore turned to her. “I’m sure Mister Blackthorn and your other friends are waiting for you outside. You should join them lest they barge back in with wands blazing.”

She ducked her head in embarrassment, “sorry about them. They can be a bit…”

“Overprotective, yes,” he said, smiling, “but they care very deeply for you. I must thank you for helping them uncover their ability to love others.”

Zephyr blushed deeply, glancing behind her. Harry and Cedric had left. She bid goodbye to the old man and hurried out of the room.

As expected, her two boys were outside. Dorian was sitting on the Slytherin table whilst Cas paced back and forth. 

Dorian spotted her first. He leapt up, causing Cas to whirl around. They sprinted over to her.

“What’s the first task?” Dorian asked.

“Are they going to do something about Hills?” Matthias rushed out.

She held up her palm, tired. “Not sure and no.”

“Are you okay?” Cas asked softly.

“No,” she admitted. “I’m terrified. And I’m sleepy. I want to go to bed.” None of the boys moved. “Now.”

“Right, yeah, of course,” Cas stumbled over his words, eyes wide with shock. “C’mon.”

They slowly made their way back to their Common Room. She hated the way they kept glancing back at her with identical worried looks.

“You believe me, don't you?” She asked quietly as they stood outside the painting that led to their room. “That I didn't put my name in.”

“Of course, Zephyr,” Cas said gently. “We know it's Hills.”

“Yeah,” Dorian nodded. “We believe you. We always would.”

“Absolutely,” Matthias echoed.

Tears filled her eyes again and she looked down as one rolled down her cheeks. She was so, so exhausted. It was the kind of tiredness that wore you down to your bones. She just wanted to curl up and never wake again.

“Bastard,” Dorian said softly. The portrait swung open to allow them in. 

Inside was a crowd of Slytherin students, all gathered around closely. When the door opened, they stopped talking, with guilt and hatred on their faces.

Zephyr almost stepped back but Cas’ arm prevented her. They marched her through the Common Room towards the Dormitory, both of their heads held high so that she could shrink in on herself.

It was an unspoken agreement to lead her to Cas’ bed. Dorian bid them goodnight and left.

“I’m going to switch the lights off,” Cas called and darkness flooded the room.

She did not move. Her fists clenched his blanket tightly as silent sobs wracked her body. 

Cas approached her slowly, kneeling down before her. He began untying her shoelaces and slipped her shoes off her feet. Then, he peeled back her socks with heartbreaking tenderness.

The boy placed a chaste kiss upon her knee and laid his forehead there. “I’m sorry I couldn't protect you,” he whispered.

She couldn't reply.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life begging for your forgiveness if I must to make up for this, my Firefly,” he said, grasping her thighs in his hands. “I swear it.”

“It's not your fault,” she promised.

Cas lifted her face. He carefully thumbed away the tears and she nuzzled into his warm palm. 

He stood and she wrapped her arms around his waist, burrowing her face into his stomach as she cried. 

Casspian held her, unmoving, until all her tears dried. He cleaned her face with a wet cloth and stripped his soiled shirt off, tossing to the ground. 

He clambered into bed with her, drawing her to his bare chest. Zephyr buried her head into the crook of his neck.

“The first task is dangerous,” she said softly.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow. We have six days to prepare.”

“I don't want to die, Cas.”

“You won't. I promise you won't.” She heard the desperation in his voice.

She nodded, though she wasn't a hundred percent sure he could prevent her death, and closed her eyes. The sleep that claimed her was a blessed one.

---

The next morning, they (Dorian and Matthias included) ate breakfast on Cas’ bed. Dorian had gotten food from the Great Hall, knowing that Zephyr would have rather died than go down.

She slowly explained what had happened when they left the room last night. She told them about how they suspected that and how Dumbledore seemed rather happy.

“At least we get to watch the first task,” Dorian said. “We can yell out warnings and stuff.”

“But it means the first task is flashy,” Cas said, scratching his head. “That's more worrying.”

She shrugged helplessly.

“You get to bring in your wand, right?” Cas smiled when she nodded. “If you need to, use the Unforgivables.”

They gaped at him, “what?”

“Just in case,” Cas added quickly. “I'd rather you be safe than not.”

“Fine. Okay,” she rubbed her eyes. “Now shoo so I can shower.”

Dorian hopped off the bed, collecting his paper plate, “see you later.”

Cas only arched an eyebrow at her.

“I’ll be fine in the shower, Cas.”

He rolled over in bed and yawned into the pillow. Zephyr brushed a hand through his hair fondly before she continued on to the bathroom.

They spent the day playing cards. His dorm was empty throughout–it seemed like his roommates had the common sense to stay away.

Or maybe they hated her so much that they couldn't bear the sight of her face.

The next day, their housemates avoided them, all warily watching the three boys that flanked her. She knew they were remembering how Cas was only a couple of syllables away from killing Hills.

The teachers steered clear of them as well. It was as if they had a cloud of hostility hanging over them, warding everyone away.

Zephyr only looked forward to one class in particular–Care of Mythical Creatures with the Gryffindors. At least Harry was there.

There was joy in collective misery. Cas and Dorian were great company and all, but the glares were not levelled at them but at her. They didn't feel the same crushing fear she was feeling.

She immediately headed for Harry, sliding up beside him. He shot her a grateful look.

“Ah, look, boys, it’s the champions,” Malfoy said to Crabbe and Goyle. “Got your autograph books? Better get a signature now, because I doubt they’re going to be around much longer…Half the Triwizard champions have died–how long d’you reckon you’re going to last? Ten minutes into the first task’s my bet.”

“Fuck off, Malfoy,” Zephyr snapped. “No one wants to see your stupid face today–no one ever wants to be near you, even your own mother. No one likes you. You will die alone.”

It felt good to get out her anger, even if she went overboard with her words. Draco’s face was red and he was shaking.

He poked a finger to her face and a pale hand wrapped around the digit. Malfoy screamed in pain as Cas bent it backwards, a malicious grin upon his beautiful face. 

“Take her advice, Malfoy,” Cas said. “Run along now and be a good daddy’s boy.”

Hagrid emerged from his hut and Cas released the boy. Draco retreated angrily behind his friends.

“I’m proud of you,” he said to her quietly. “But I’ve never heard you say stuff like that. Are you okay?”

“No,” Zephyr refused to meet his eyes.

“I understand,” Cas replied softly. “That’s okay too.”

Hagrid placed down a stack of metal cages that contained their Blast-Ended Skrewts. He explained that the reason the skrewts had been killing one another was an excess of pent-up energy, and that the solution would be for each student to fix a leash on a skrewt and take it for a short walk. 

That definitely perked Casspian’s mood. He grinned at Dorian who looked like he would rather die than partake in the class.

“Take this thing for a walk?” Malfoy repeated in disgust, staring into one of the boxes. “And where exactly are we supposed to fix the leash? Around the sting, the blasting end, or the sucker?”

“Roun’ the middle,” said Hagrid, demonstrating. “Er–yer might want ter put on yer dragon-hide gloves, jus’ as an extra precaution, like. Harry—you come here an’ help me with this big one…”

Cas and Zephyr found theirs. Toothless seemed to recognise her because it exploded excitedly as she unlocked its cage. Eragon, Cas’ Skrewt, backed away in a menacing crouch as he approached.

She had no trouble attaching the leash around Toothless. As soon as the rope was secured over its scaly body, it shot off like a bullet, tugging her along for the ride. It was nearly a metre long now and it was all corded muscles.

Eragon and Cas sprinted by, with the boy leading the run. They seemed to be having fun. Eragon was enormous–maybe one and a half metres long and had a very thick set of scales covering its back.

She knew it was the last time for a while that she would find it possible to laugh.

That night, after dinner, they snuck out, all three of them. They trudged through the Forbidden forest in silence, like Zephyr’s gloominess had spread to them as well. 

She stopped mid-step, grabbing Cas’ arm. He whirled around in alarm, scanning their surroundings. “What? Did you hear something?”

Matthiss jumped, “where?”

Dorian stopped too, hands tucked in his pockets. He gave her a curious look. 

“Joke about something,” she begged, much to their bewilderment. “Anything! Just–stop this fucking silence. It's like a funeral.” Her gaze dropped to her shoes. “It’s like it is my funeral.”

There was a pause before Dorian cleared his throat, “erm, what did the chicken cross the road?”

Cas, Matthias and Zephyr blinked at him in surprise. He looked equally taken aback that he had spoken.

When none of them answered, Dorian scowled, “you're supposed to say ‘why?’.”

“Why did the chicken cross the road, Harlot?” Cas asked, eyes bright with amusement.

“To peck your eyes out, Bloodtraitor.”

Zephyr snorted, “yeah, this is much better.”

“Knock knock,” Cas began as they started to walk again.

“Who's there?” Matthias asked, glancing back at her with a soft smile.

“Interrupting cow.” 

“Interrupting co—”

“Moo!” Cas’ impersonation of a cow rang loudly through the woods, probably scaring away any creatures that might have been stalking them.

Dorian groaned, “that's such a boring one. Let me show you a real joke. Knock knock!”

Zephyr could tell they were scrambling for jokes just to appease her and she had never loved them more.

“Who’s there?” Zephyr tried.

“Casspian Blackthorn,” Dorian’s grin stretched across his face.

“Oh, no,” Cas said with a sigh.

“Casspian Blackthorn who?”

“He is the joke.”

“Har-har,” Cas said, rolling his eyes. “Original.”

He swept aside a low-hanging branch for them as they reached their clearing. Casspian had brought her here on the first day of school when they were year ones.

They settled down on the grass, sprawled out, soaking in the wet warmth of the nature around them.

Finally, after a couple minutes of silence, Cas stretched lazily and pulled his wand oug. “Let’s start.”

From his bag, he removed a large mason jar containing multiple frogs and unscrewed the lid. The frogs within tried to jump free from their prison but Cas must have placed a charm on the jar because the animals seemed to hit an invisible wall.

Her friend reached in and grabbed one frog, then put aside the jar. 

“Let's start with Crucio,” Cas said, all humour wiped from his face. It seems as if Casspian Blackthorn had come out to play.

“Okay,” Zephyr agreed. She branished her wand.

“The trick is to mean it,” Cas said softly. “No half-hearted casting. Feel the hatred and anger. Go ahead when you're ready. If you can cast the Killing Curse, this should be easy for you.”

She took a deep breath, her boys’ gazes fixed on her. Zephyr recalled Lockhart, Maldez–the darkness in their eyes, the pleasure on faces as they watched her suffer.

“Crucio,” she said firmly.

Nothing happened.

She groaned.

“Keep trying,” Cas nodded encouragingly.

“I'm not angry,” Zephyr said. “I don't want to hurt anyone.”

“You have to,” Dorian said. He sighed. “It's kill or be killed.”

Zephyr threw her hands up. “They probably would ban these spells! There's no point.”

“I would rather you be able to defend yourself with everything then take the risk,” Cas said firmly. “Again.”

They practiced until the forest was too cold to continue with no progress. Both boys looked increasingly worried every time she failed the spell. She knew what they were thinking–Zephyr was plain fucked.

They trudged back to their dormitory in gloomy silence. Cas was very obviously in deep thought. He was likely calculating every spell she could do and their effectiveness during the tournament. 

They exchanged goodnights and went to bed.

 

Chapter 49: 4.8

Dear Tom,

Oh god, my brother put Zephyr's name in the goblet and she was chosen. I'm so scared–she's barely fifteen! She can't participate! Everyone else is seventeen! It's not fucking fair! But Cas can't break the vow and I was hoping you know of a way...

She's my closest friend–I can't lose her. Please, Tom.

Yours,

Dorian.

---

Halfway through double potions, a tiny boy barged into the room.

It was Colin Creevey; he edged into the room, beaming at Harry, and walked up to Snape’s desk at the front of the room.

“Yes?” said Snape curtly.

“Please, sir, I’m supposed to take Harry Potter and Zephyr Sylvester-Lee upstairs.”

“Zephyr Sylvester,” Cas corrected immediately.

Collin flinched and ducked his head.

Snape stared down his hooked nose at Colin, whose smile faded from his eager face.

“They have another hour of Potions to complete,” said Snape coldly. “He will come upstairs when this class is finished.”

Colin went pink. “Sir–sir, Mr. Bagman wants them,” he said nervously. “All the champions have got to go, I think they want to take photographs...”

Zephyr grimaced at her friends.

“Very well, very well,” Snape snapped. “Zephyr, Potter, leave your things here, I want you back down here later to test your antidote.”

“Please, sir—he’s got to take his things with him,” squeaked Colin. “All the champions—”

“Very well!” said Snape. “Take your bag and get out of my sight!”

Harry swung his bag over his shoulder, got up, and headed for the door. Zephyr did the same, squeezing Cas’ hand as she left. Harry and her exchanged looks as they left the room.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” said Colin, starting to speak the moment they had closed the dungeon door behind them. “Isn’t it, though? You being champion?”

Zephyr didn't bother to open her mouth.

“Yeah, really amazing,” said Harry heavily as they set off toward the steps into the entrance hall. “What do they want photos for, Colin?”

“The Daily Prophet, I think!”

“Great,” said Harry dully. “Exactly what I need. More publicity.”

“Good luck!” said Colin when they had reached the right room.

Harry knocked on the door and they entered.

She was in a fairly small classroom; most of the desks had been pushed away to the back of the room, leaving a large space in the middle; three of them, however, had been placed end-to-end in front of the blackboard and covered with a long length of velvet.

Six chairs had been set behind the velvet-covered desks, and Ludo Bagman was sitting in one of them, talking to a witch Harry had never seen before, who was wearing magenta robes. 

Viktor Krum was standing moodily in a corner as usual and not talking to anybody. Cedric and Fleur were in conversation. Fleur looked a good deal happier than Harry had seen her so far; she kept throwing back her head so that her long silvery hair caught the light. A paunchy man, holding a large black camera that was smoking slightly, was watching Fleur out of the corner of his eye. Bagman suddenly spotted Harry, got up quickly, and bounded forward.

Zephyr stepped away, loosening her tie slightly. She sat down, crossing her legs before her and sighed heavily.

If they really wanted publicity, they should have interviewed Cas, Dorian and Matthias for their opinion on her being chosen.

“Ah, here they are! Champion number four and five! In you come, in you come…nothing to worry about, it’s just the wand weighing ceremony, the rest of the judges will be here in a moment—”

Zephyr’s blood ran cold. Her wand? No one was supposed to know about her wand. It was a secret she swore to take to the grave.

“Wand weighing?” Harry repeated nervously.

“We have to check that your wands are fully functional, no problems, you know, as they’re your most important tools in the tasks ahead,” said Bagman. “The expert’s upstairs now with Dumbledore. And then there’s going to be a little photo shoot. This is Rita Skeeter,” he added, gesturing toward the witch in magenta robes. 

“She’s doing a small piece on the tournament for the Daily Prophet...”

“Maybe not that small, Ludo,” said Rita Skeeter, her eyes on Harry.

Her hair was set in elaborate and curiously rigid curls that contrasted oddly with her heavy-jawed face. She wore jewelled spectacles. The thick fingers clutching her crocodile-skin handbag ended in two-inch nails, painted crimson.

“I wonder if I could have a little word with Harry and Zephyr before we start?” she said to Bagman, but still gazing fixedly at Harry. “The youngest champion, you know…to add a bit of colour?”

“Certainly!” cried Bagman. “That is if they have no objection?”

“Er—," said Harry.

“Lovely,” said Rita Skeeter, and in a second, her scarlett-taloned fingers had Zephyr's upper arm in a surprisingly strong grip, and she was steering both of them out of the room again and opening a nearby door.

“We don’t want to be in there with all that noise,” she said. “Let’s see…ah, yes, this is nice and cozy.”

It was a broom cupboard. Zephyr blinked. Was she going to murder them

“Come along, dear—that’s right—lovely,” said Rita Skeeter again, perching herself precariously upon an upturned bucket, pushing Harry down onto a cardboard box, and closing the door, throwing them into darkness. “Let’s see now…Harry will go first.”

She unsnapped her crocodile-skin handbag and pulled out a handful of candles, which she lit with a wave of her wand and magicked into midair, so that they could see what they were doing.

“You won’t mind, if I use a Quick-Quotes Quill? It leaves me free to talk to you normally…”

“A what?” said Harry.

Rita Skeeter’s smile widened. 

She reached again into her crocodile bag and drew out a long acid-green quill and a roll of parchment, which she stretched out between them on a crate of Mrs. Skower’s All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover.

She put the tip of the green quill into her mouth, sucked it for a moment with apparent relish. Zephyr grimaced.

Rita then placed it upright on the parchment, where it stood balanced on its point, quivering slightly.

“Testing…my name is Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet reporter.”

Zephyr looked down quickly at the quill. The moment Rita Skeeter had spoken, the green quill had started to scribble, skidding across the parchment: Attractive blonde Rita Skeeter, forty-three, whose savage quill has punctured many inflated reputations—

“Lovely,” said Rita Skeeter, yet again, and she ripped the top piece of parchment off, crumpled it up, and stuffed it into her handbag.

Now she leaned toward Harry and said, “So, Harry…what made you decide to enter the Triwizard Tournament?”

“Er...” said Harry again, but he was distracted by the quill. Even though he wasn’t speaking, it was dashing across the parchment, and in its wake he could make out a fresh sentence: An ugly scar, souvenir of a tragic past, disfigures the otherwise charming face of Harry Potter, whose eyes—

Zephyr fought a smile. She had horrible humour. Cas would have killed to get this quill. She mentally filed it away as a gift idea for him.

“Ignore the quill, Harry,” said Rita Skeeter firmly. Reluctantly, Harry looked up at her instead. “Now—why did you decide to enter the tournament, Harry?”

“I didn’t,” said Harry. “I don’t know how my name got into the Goblet of Fire. I didn’t put it in there.”

Rita Skeeter raised one heavily pencilled eyebrow.

“Come now, Harry, there’s no need to be scared of getting into trouble. We all know you shouldn’t really have entered at all. But don’t worry about that. Our readers love a rebel.”

“But I didn’t enter. Neither did Zephyr,” Harry protested. “I don’t know who—”

“How do you feel about the tasks ahead?” said Rita Skeeter. “Excited? Nervous?”

“I haven’t really thought…yeah, nervous, I suppose,” said Harry, looking like he just ate something very spicy.

“Champions have died in the past, haven’t they?” said Rita Skeeter briskly. “Have you thought about that at all?”

“Well…they say it’s going to be a lot safer this year,” said Harry.

The quill whizzed across the parchment between them, back and forward as though it were skating.

“Of course, you’ve looked death in the face before, haven’t you?” said Rita Skeeter, watching him closely. “How would you say that’s affected you?”

“Er,” said Harry. He seemed to be completely lost.

Zephyr would have felt pity for him if she didn't know she would be subjected to the same torture soon.

“Do you think that the trauma in your past might have made you keen to prove yourself? To live up to your name? Do you think that perhaps you were tempted to enter the Triwizard Tournament because—”

“I didn’t enter,” Harry snapped.

“Can you remember your parents at all?” said Rita Skeeter, talking over him.

“No,” said Harry.

“How do you think they’d feel if they knew you were competing in the Triwizard Tournament? Proud? Worried? Angry?”

Harry paused for a moment, jaw clenching.

“I have NOT got tears in my eyes!” said Harry loudly.

She glanced down at the paper. Hm.

“Zephyr, your turn,” Rita turned to her standing in the corner.

Zephyr Sylvester-Lee, known for attracting Dark Wizards—

She groaned internally.

“So why did you decide to join?”

“I didn't,” Zephyr said in a deadpanned tone.

“And how did you feel about the task?” Rita grinned wildly.

Zephyr watches the quill scribble frantically for a moment before she replied, “no feelings. It’s just a task. And I know the previous champions have died. I already understand the risks.”

“You’ve gone through many dangerous situations before with your friends, Casspian Blackthorn, Dorian Harlot and Matthias Arnoux. How do you feel about this? How do they feel about you being chosen?”

She shrugged. “They’re pissed.” Suddenly, an idea popped into her head and she leaned forward, an award-winning smile on her face.

She said, “they suspect Billy Harlot, Dorian’s older brother, to be the one who entered my name. As you know, we reported their parents to the Ministry for the use of Dark Magic. We believe he is taking revenge.”

The quill was having a field day with this. It danced across the parchment in a delighted frenzy. 

“Is that right? And what do your friends plan to do?” Rita asked.

“You should ask them.”

 “I heard that Casspian was only several letters away from—”

The door opened, thankfully interrupting Rita from finishing the sentence. 

Zephyr squinted her eyes at the sudden brightness.

Albus Dumbledore stood there, looking down at both of them, squashed into the cupboard.

“Dumbledore!” cried Rita Skeeter, with every appearance of delight—but Zephyr noticed that her quill and the parchment had suddenly vanished from the box of Magical Mess Remover, and Rita’s clawed fingers were hastily snapping shut the clasp of her crocodile-skin bag.

“How are you?” she said, standing up and holding out one of her large, mannish hands to Dumbledore. “I hope you saw my piece over the summer about the International Confederation of Wizards’ Conference?”

“Enchantingly nasty,” said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. “I particularly enjoyed your description of me as an obsolete dingbat.”

Rita Skeeter didn’t look remotely abashed. “I was just making the point that some of your ideas are a little old-fashioned, Dumbledore, and that many wizards in the street—”

“I will be delighted to hear the reasoning behind the rudeness, Rita,” said Dumbledore, with a courteous bow and a smile, “but I’m afraid we will have to discuss the matter later. The Weighing of the Wands is about to start, and it cannot take place if two of our champions are hidden in a broom cupboard.”

Zephyr couldn't be more glad to escape from Rita’s clutches. They hurried back into the room. The other champions were now sitting in chairs near the door, and Harry sat down quickly next to Cedric. 

Zephyr took the last chair, looking up at the velvet-covered table, where four of the five judges were now sitting—Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Mr. Crouch, and Ludo Bagman. Rita Skeeter settled herself down in a corner; Zephyr saw her slip the parchment out of her bag again, spread it on her knee, suck the end of the Quick-Quotes Quill, and place it once more on the parchment.

“May I introduce Mr. Ollivander?” said Dumbledore, taking his place at the judges’ table and talking to the champions. “He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the tournament.”

Zephyr grinned. At least, he knew what her wand was. Maybe he could lie a bit about it.

“Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first, please?” said Mr. Ollivander, stepping into the empty space in the middle of the room.

Fleur Delacour swept over to Mr. Ollivander and handed him her wand.

“Hmmm...” he said. He twirled the wand between his long fingers like a baton and it emitted a number of pink and gold sparks. Then he held it close to his eyes and examined it carefully.“Yes,” he said quietly, “nine and a half inches…inflexible… rosewood…and containing…dear me…”

“An ’air from ze ’ead of a veela,” said Fleur. “One of my grandmuzzer’s.”

“Yes,” said Mr. Ollivander, “yes, I’ve never used veela hair myself, of course. I find it makes for rather temperamental wands…however, to each his own, and if this suits you…”

Mr. Ollivander ran his fingers along the wand, apparently checking for scratches or bumps; then he muttered, “Orchideous!” and a bunch of flowers burst from the wand-tip.

“Very well, very well, it’s in fine working order,” said Mr. Ollivander, scooping up the flowers and handing them to Fleur with her wand. “Mr. Diggory, you next.”

Fleur gilded back to her seat, smiling at Cedric as he passed her.

“Ah, now, this is one of mine, isn’t it?” said Mr. Ollivander, with much more enthusiasm, as Cedric handed over his wand. “Yes, I remember it well. Containing a single hair from the tail of a particularly fine male unicorn…must have been seventeen hands; nearly gored me with his horn after I plucked his tail. Twelve and a quarter inches…ash…pleasantly springy. It’s in fine condition. You treat it regularly?”

“Polished it last night,” said Cedric, grinning.

Mr. Ollivander sent a stream of silver smoke rings across the room from the tip of Cedric’s wand, pronounced himself satisfied, and then said, “Mr. Krum, if you please.”

Viktor Krum got up and slouched, round-shouldered and duck-footed, toward Mr. Ollivander. He thrust out his wand and stood scowling, with his hands in the pockets of his robes.

“Hmm,” said Mr. Ollivander, “this is a Gregorovitch creation, unless I’m much mistaken? A fine wandmaker, though the styling is never quite what I…however…”

He lifted the wand and examined it minutely, turning it over and over before his eyes.

“Yes…hornbeam and dragon heartstring?” he shot at Krum, who nodded. “Rather thicker than one usually sees…quite rigid, ten and a quarter inches. Avis!”

The hornbeam wand let off a blast like a gun, and a number of small, twittering birds flew out of the end and through the open window into the watery sunlight.

“Good,” said Mr. Ollivander, handing Krum back his wand. “Mr. Potter.”

Harry got to his feet and walked past Krum to Mr. Ollivander. He handed over his wand.

“Aaaah, yes,” said Mr. Ollivander, his pale eyes suddenly gleaming. “Yes, yes, yes. How well I remember.”

The man examined it silently, which gave Zephyr some hope hers would be kept secret.

Mr. Ollivander spent much longer examining Harry’s wand than anyone else’s. Eventually, however, he made a fountain of wine shoot out of it, and handed it back to Harry, announcing that it was still in perfect condition.

Zephyr slipped hers out of her pocket and handed it over. Mr. Ollivander turned it in his hands.

“I knew the owner of this wand would accomplish many things,” he said softly so only she could hear. “After all, it is the sister of the Elder Wand.”

He flicked it and a large firefly made of flames swooped across the room before disappearing into the wall. He handed her wand back to her, smiling kindly.

“Thank you all,” said Dumbledore, standing up at the judges’ table. “You may go back to your lessons now—or perhaps it would be quicker just to go down to dinner, as they are about to end—”

The man with the black camera jumped up and cleared his throat.

“Photos, Dumbledore, photos!” cried Bagman excitedly. “All the judges and champions, what do you think, Rita?”

“Er—yes, let’s do those first,” said Rita Skeeter, whose eyes were upon Zephyr. “And then perhaps some individual shots.”

The photographs took a long time. Madame Maxime cast everyone else into shadow wherever she stood, and the photographer couldn’t stand far enough back to get her into the frame; eventually she had to sit while everyone else stood around her. Karkaroff kept twirling his goatee around his finger to give it an extra curl; Krum, whom Zephyr would have thought would have been used to this sort of thing, skulked, half-hidden, at the back of the group.

The photographer seemed keenest to get Fleur at the front, but Rita Skeeter kept hurrying forward and dragging Harry into greater prominence. Then she insisted on separate shots of all the champions. At last, they were free to go.

Zephyr practically ran down to dinner, eager to finally see her friends. They were seated at their usual places and jumped up to greet her.

She quickly filled them in about what happened, watching as Cas’ eyes darkened at what Rita said.

“Smart to throw my brother under the bus,” Dorian praised. “Good way of putting some pressure on him.”

“I guess we should be expecting some interviews soon,” Matthias sighed.

Chapter 50: 4.9

Summary:

tw: sexual activities AND sexual abuse in graphic detail. i am not a smut writer (normally) so it may not be great

Dorian,

I have went through all the books and papers I could find about the Tri-Wizard tournaments.

There is no way to break the contract. It is bonded to your friend's soul. I wish her the best.

Here are some chocolate frogs. Do not make any risky decisions.

Yours,

Tom Riddle.

---

Zephyr held the newspaper her roommate left on her bedside table. It was three in the morning, and her room had received her owl.

Rita had sent her a copy of what would come out the next day.

Zephyr was not thrilled, to say the least. She began to re-read the article, unable to believe her eyes. She had been directly quoted (but never actually said any of it) in the newspaper:

I am not afraid because my father will always be there. I mean, he is known to show up to extraordinary events and I’m sure he’ll be watching me during the Triwizard Tournament.

I just wish he would come home. My muggle mother has been crying non-stop since he left. I miss him so much. 

Zephyr groaned and ran a hand down her face. What the hell?

All things considered, at least there was no mention about her father being solely responsible for the war. Being the daughter of The Necromancer would surely gain her more hate than love.

Zephyr chucked the paper onto the floor, where her photograph scowled up at her. She pressed her face into the cool silk pillow, fisting the bedsheets.

She wished feverishly she could sleep but the nightmares–they terrified her to no end.

Eventually, she casted the silencing charm around her bed, and sat crossed-legged, staring at her sheets in silence.

“Fine,” she whispered to herself. “Fine. If they want to play dirty, I’ll play dirtier.”

From beneath her bed, she pulled out a small plastic container that had holes poked through the top. The frog inside croaked as she lifted it to her face.

“No magic is inherently Dark or Light. There is only power, and those who are too weak to seek it,” she whispered to herself, repeating the mantra she heard from somewhere. “And I will not be weak.”

The frog blinked at her as she removed it from its enclosure. Its legs kicked out, trying to escape, but she gripped its slimy body firmly.

“Stupefy,” she whispered, and the frog went limp in her hand.

Carefully, Zephyr set it down onto her bed. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, and tapped into the metal box of memories buried deep in her brain.

Lockheart’s hand was cold as he travelled down her stomach.

Rage bubbled in her. 

His hand brushed through the dusting of black hair below her underwear.

Zephyr shook, her body reacting to the memory. She wanted to tear her skin off.

His fingers sliding over her clit, through her folds that had never been touched. His fingernails were much too long and too sharp.

Shuddering, she clenched her fist around her wand, forcing the tears back.

A sharp pain followed as he nudged at her entrance, trying to dip his index finger into her. His moans were heavy with lust, ringing through her ears.

Zephyr’s eyes snapped open and she hissed, “Crucio.”

The frog snapped awake, a choked croak escaping its mouth as the red spell slammed into its fat body. It frailed around, the torturing curse inflicting agony through its cells.

Zephyr watched, feeling quite detached. Another memory rose, breaking through the block in her mind like a damn breaking, pouring flames through her veins.

Maldez above her, wand branished at her face, darkness dancing in his eyes, the Unforgivable falling from his thin lips, glee filling his face.

“Imperio!” She cried.

The amphibian froze, looking up at her expectantly, obediently awaiting her orders.

She nudged it with her mind, finding the soft tissue of its squishy brain. Zephyr forced the intention of jumping into its head and it eagerly lept high into the air, landing with a soft thump.

Zephyr made it hop several times more before forcing it to do a cartwheel. It cantered over the side of the bed and went splat on the floor.

“Avada Kedavra,” she whispered. The green light lit the room momentarily as the croaks went silent.

Sinking back into her pillows, she stared at her wand, wariness penetrating deep into her bones. Zephyr was so tired of being undermined by everyone. 

No one feared her like they feared her friends. They respected her, yes, but it was because of Cas. Lockhart was right–without them, she was nothing.

Back in her Muggle school, no one cared if she was crying or scared. If Cas or even Dorian was there with her, the story would have been quite different. She would never have been bullied. Her bicycle would have never floated away, surrounded by sewage.

Zephyr’s eyes widened, heartbeat quickening.

Her father had said Zephyr was in possession of the same abilities as him, hadn't he?

Slowly, she levitated the dead frog onto her bed where it laid motionlessly. She made a mental note to wash her bedding in the morning.

How did her father bring the dead back to life? Was there a spell? Was it instinct, intention? 

Trembling, she laid her finger onto the slimy, cold body. Her fingers found soft flesh and she held back a gag. 

It was gross. And dead.

She refused to think about that.

Zephyr forced her mind to blank. She focused on her body, the steady thumping in her chest, the expansion of her lungs as they drew in air.

She recalled Cas’ lips on hers, the electrifying feeling that ran down her spine; the rightness of being in his arms.

Zephyr was alive, so incredibly alive despite everything she went through, and she forced the feeling through the point of contact. Something in her stomach cramped, her magic lazily rising through her to answer to her demands.

The frog’s legs twitched. Its eyes snapped open and it jumped up onto all fours, panicking as its scrambled to escape her. As soon as her touch left its body, it slumped over, dead again.

Zephyr gasped, feeling as if she crossed a line that she will never return to. 

She had done it, wandlessly—she brought something back to life. It hadn't lasted long, only animating the creature while she was in contact with it, but it worked.

Zephyr wondered if one day, she could raise an army of dead soldiers, all marching to do her work. 

Where would she even get the bodies from? She wasn't exactly eager to rob a grave. That was too weird for her to even think about.

She waved her wand and the toad disappeared back into the container, floating to be stored beneath her bed again. After a second thought, she applied a Statis charm to stop the body from rotting and stinking up her room.

Deep sleep found her quickly after that, filled with the dead kneeling below her in a wasteland, the skies red and her sitting on a throne made of bones.

---

The two weeks passed by quickly. She behaved normally in front of her friends, joking and laughing and telling them off. They discussed possible first tasks; Dorian ate more than usual; Matthias was chatting up Ravenclaws; Cas snapped at everyone.

At night, she made the frog dance for her, her magic stringing it along. She Transfigured tiny knives for it, forcing it to wield blades and march across her bed. Zephyr told it to attack her headboard, carving tiny scratches in the wood.

Slowly, she was getting a hang on her abilities. Something had unlocked in her, like the string tightly binding her morals had snapped, unleashing a darkness she never knew resided in her.

It was a frog. It was only a frog.

Yet, Zephyr never felt more powerful nor in control. She had the ability to create life itself. Her first taste of it left her craving more and more, to experiment with bigger, wilder animals.

She did not. 

It was similar to Imperio, her Necromancy, she realised. Except, when the frog was dead, there was no battle of will power, just its body for her taking, using and discarding. 

Everything was hers to steal. It was frightening and it was liberating.

Zephyr walked with a bounce in her step and a lighter heart. 

Dorian had joked that she seemed to lose all fear over the Triwizard Tournament. Zephyr felt like she did.

All she needed was the Killing Curse and the life within her to win.

What was there to be afraid of?

On the Saturday before the first task, the four of them trudged to Hogsmead. The town had been nicely repaired, like a war hadn't torn through the village, but the fear in the air was tangible.

Store owners bowed as they strolled by. Witches thrusted gifts into their arms, thanking them profusely for their contributions.

Dorian basked in the attention, cheeks red with happiness.

“You do realise my Fiendfyre was the one that made the biggest impact?” Cas grumbled quietly.

“Well, you're not accepting the recognition so I’m doing it on your behalf,” Dorian said with a self-praising grin. “They want to thank us, Cas. Look at them, falling over their own feet to give us their gratitude. We did save them.”

“Ah, yes, being humble is your best quality,” Matthias drawled as he hoisted a new broom beneath his arm. “I have two of the same broom in different colours. What's the point?”

“Show off, Arnoux,” Dorian said airily. “Use them interchangeably.”

“I would, if Quidditch hadn't been cancelled.”

Zephyr snorted, “still mourning?”

Matthias nodded, sighing heavily.

By the time they went back to Hogwarts, they were ladened in gifts. It had been awkward to drink Butterbeer when their presents were spilling from the booth and onto the hardwood floors of The Three Broomsticks. Thankfully, only a handful of adults were there and they added enchanted cloaks, robes and tall, wizard hats onto their ever growing pile.

The rest of the bar was packed with Hogwart students, and they all had to awkwardly navigate past their mountain of items to reach the door.

Their day was spent talking about absolutely nothing of importance. It was as if the four of them were clinging desperately to the last bit of normalcy before the first Task came around.

Cas was distant through the days leading up to the tournament and it drove Zephyr crazy. He barely even touched her now, and just spent the time brooding, pouring through book after book.

When they were back in their Common Room, Zephyr had enough of his silence and dragged him up to his room.

“Zeph’,” Cas said, trying to resist. “What are you doing? I need to finish the research paper on the previous Triwizard Tournament. We only have three days left—”

She was glad the room was empty as she shoved him down onto his bed. A startled yelp escaped Cas’ lips as he stared up at her, mouth parted in surprise.

“Just shut up and kiss me,” Zephyr said and flung herself on top of his body.

“Oh!” His eyes grew wide as she slammed her lips against his. “Mhm—”

Zephyr tugged at his curls, mouth moving desperately against his. Cas’ arms snaked around her waist and flipped down, so he hovered over her.

Her pussy warmed, clenching. Cas bit down on her lower lip, and she gasped at the sting, moaning as he licked at his attack, soothing the area.

Zephyr’s hands drifted towards his abdomen, sliding up his shirt to caress his stomach and kisses turned heavier.

They were both panting, mindlessly trying to claim each other. His tongue was heavy in her mouth. He tasted like Butterbeer and chocolate. He smelled divine.

“Zeph’,” Cas pulled back, his chest heaving. “Not now.”

Her hand, that was slowly inching towards the bulge in his pants, froze.

“Cas,” she whined needily, mind hazy with lust.

He sighed, licking at her neck. She shuddered under him. 

“After the first task, perhaps,” he said softly, sucking at the sensitive area below her jaw. “We need to focus now. I want you alive before I savour every moan from your mouth.”

Cas captured the skin between his teeth and Zephyr’s hips writhing against him, trying to sooth the hot need between her legs. She whimpered as his hot breath moved to her ears, goosebumps erupting across her skin. It didn't help that she wore a skirt, so she could feel the air against her wet panties, chilling her.

Zephyr was incredibly horny and really wanted him to undress her.

“Please,” she whispered into his hair. “I need this.”

“Zephyr,” he drew back, “I want our first time to be magical.”

Zephyr stilled, her thighs rubbing against each other to relieve the ache down there. She was wet, soaking even.

“Do you…not want me?” She asked quietly, voice trembling.

“I do,” he groaned into her ear. “So, so badly. I touch myself every night, thinking of you and your body, but you deserve to be treated like a queen when we join.”

Zephyr’s eyes slipped shut as a breathy moan escaped her lips. She imagined him fisting his cock in his hands. 

“I want to come in your mouth, across your breasts,” Cas continued, voice husky. “But you deserve better than this. I want to buy you flowers and spread rose petals across the bed before I claim your body as my own. I want to bring you hot chocolate after and we can fall asleep without a worry in our minds. But we can't.”

Zephyr whimpered, mindless with desire. She needed to soothe the tension flaring in her pussy, the emptiness there.

“Please,” she begged. “Your fingers, anything. We don't need to fuck. Just, please, Cas, help me. I can't do this.”

Cas’ eyes darkened, irises dilating. Gently, he nudged her legs apart, her skirt bunching around her waist and pushed his knee against her hot centre, directly against her underwear. A strangled gasp fell from her lips.

“Go on, Firefly,” he said, “rub yourself. Come for me.”

Zephyr let out another groan as she gyrated her hips against his thigh, chasing the delicious friction that sparked warmth through her core. His lips ran down her neck, hand on her hip to push her firmly down onto him.

“That's a good girl,” he whispered. “You're doing so good.”

Oh, Merlin, his words. Zephyr was so dripping now, the coldness seeping through her pants. She knew she was leaving a wet spot on his bed. Zephyr didn't care.

He pressed harder against her pussy and she moved herself to rub her aching clit against his hard muscles, moans falling from her lips like prayers.

Cas captured her lips and he let out a grunt, so filled with desire that the tightness winding in her belly came undone.

Her pleasure crested, her legs trembling as she came with a hoarse cry.

She stared at him, mortified, as her brain caught up with her actions. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry.”

Cas pulled back, his cock straining against his pants. His eyes fixed on the bare, silky skin of her inner thighs and he pressed his lips together tightly.

“Fuck,” he said quietly, hissing. “Fuck. I–I shouldn't.”

Zephyr’s Slytherin side reared its head and she parted her legs even further, knees drawing up to bare her soaked cotton panties to him. Her hand drifted down, rubbing against the sticky cloth, her eyes meeting his heated gaze.

Cas’ breathing stuttered.

She played with her clit through her underwear, moaning his name.

That pushed Cas off the edge. His fingers fumbled for his belt, clinking as it fell open. He unzipped himself, panting.

“We won't fuck,” he said, “but Gods, I’m not going to function if I leave with a massive erection.”

Zephyr watched, lips parted as he pulled his cock from his boxes. 

Holy shit.

Cas gasped his pale cock in his hand, its head pink and weeping with pre-cum. He was long, not overly so, but this width made her lose her breath. He would tear her in half if his dick entered her. He was completely hard, to the point it looked painful.

“Rub yourself,” he commanded, fisting himself roughly.

Zephyr whimpered at the authority in his tone. Cas never talked to her like that, and it made a fire burn in her again.

She slipped her fingers into her panties, pulling aside the cloth to bare her sex to him. Cas moaned, hand moving across his shaft.

Zephyr let her fingers trail across her wet entrance, parting her pink folds, showing him her glistening clit. 

“Put a finger in,” he said gruffly, rubbing his balls. He was neatly trimmed, curly pubic hair tamed and making him look so much sexier.

Her head fell back as she pushed a digit into herself, walls clenching tightly around her fingers. She moved her hand, thrusting into herself.

“Fuck,” curses fell from Cas’ lips as he watched, gaze predatory. “I would do anything to bury myself in you; to feel your tight, wet pussy around my cock; to taste you.”

“Yes!” She cried. “Please!”

Cas chuckled darkly, “insert another finger, my little Firefly.”

Zephyr followed his orders in a pleasure-filled haze, like a soldier listening to her king. “Cas!”

Release found her swiftly, tearing through her body once more, leaving her limpless.

Cas grunted, white ropes shooting from his tip, dribbling down his hands.

“Good girl, Zephyr,” he praised softly. “You are a very good girl.”

 

Chapter 51: 4.10

Summary:

ok smut over yay
First triwizard task!!!

Dear Tommy,

So, Cas and Zephyr finally got together. Merlin, I'm not sure how if you understand how frustrating it is watching them flirt with each other daily and not realise they are head-over-heels with each other.

The first task is soon. I heard rumours that Zephyr will need to fight a dragon. Do you have any tips for her? A fast reply would be great.

Yours,

Dorian.

---

“Dragons,” Harry said softly to them. “The first tasks are dragons.”

“What?” Zephyr blanched.

“They’ve got five, one for each of us, and we’ve got to get past them.”

Cas frowned, his eyes stormy, “are you sure?”

“A hundred percent.”

Dorian pressed a hand over his eyes, “what type of dragon?”

“Horntail,” Harry said with a pause. “Fifty feet, at least. Blows fire. Maybe there are different breeds for each competitor."

Zephyr momentarily imagined herself in front of a dragon. She did not like her chances.

“Library after this,” Cas muttered to her. “I’ll figure it out.”

“The tournament literally starts in a few hours,” Zephyr said.

“A few hours is all we need. Thank you, Potter.”

---

My dearest,

Send my congratulations to your friends.

As for the dragon, different types of dragons have different temperaments. However, the eyes are their weakest spot. They are agile and faster than they look. Zephyr must move quickly and stay away from both the mouth and the tail.

As per tradition, on Christmas, the Yule Ball will be held. I wish to attend it with you, but it is not possible.

I have picked out an outfit for you. Honour me by wearing it. Best of luck to your friend.

Yours,

Tom Riddle.

---

“From what it says,” Cas said as he flipped through the book on Dragons and their Origins; a Keeper’s guide, “Horntails are particularly vicious. Nasty claws and armoured scales. Your spells will bounce right off. However, their eyes are their weak spot, so aim there.”

“I hardly think blinding it will stop an even angrier dragon from incinerating you,” Dorian said, pushing his own book away. “Frankly, my only tip is to run around and pray you survive.”

“You are such a downer,” Matthias said. “I’m sure you’ll do great!”

They stayed there throughout lunch, skipping every class they had, trying to figure out how to get rid of the dragon. So far, their best solution was to just Avada Kedavra the thing, which wasn't exactly possible.

Eventually, she was summoned to the courtyards ro get her first instruction for the tournament.

Cas escorted her and pressed a kiss to her lips once they reached the tent that stood near the Quidditch pitch-converted arena.

“Here,” Cas said, pressing something cold and hard against her palm. “Take this for good luck.”

She looked down and gasped. His Blackthorn heir ring sat on her palm, the silver wolf with black gem for eyes staring back at her.

“I can't,” she said, shaking her head.

“Let me be there with you and protect you,” Cas pulled her hand, sliding the ring on her index finger. “It has protective charms that can protect you from basic hexes. It’s better than nothing.”

“I—” she stared at the ring and then cleared her throat, “if you're proposing to me, at least get down on one knee.”

Cas laughed, kissing her forehead, “next time. Go, be safe. We’ll cheer you on. Aim for the eyes.”

Zephyr hugged him tightly and then entered the tent.

Fleur Delacour was sitting in a corner on a low wooden stool. She didn’t look nearly as composed as usual, but rather pale and clammy. Viktor Krum looked even surlier than usual, which she supposed was his way of showing nerves.

Cedric was pacing up and down. Harry stood awkwardly to the side, cleaning his glasses on his robes. He smiled at bit when she pushed the flap open.

“Zephyr! Good-o!” said Bagman happily, looking around at him. “Come in, come in, make yourself at home!”

Bagman looked somehow like a slightly overblown cartoon figure, standing amid all the pale-faced champions. He was wearing his old Wasp robes again.

“Well, now we’re all here. Time to fill you in!” said Bagman brightly. “When the audience has assembled, I’m going to be offering each of you this bag.” He held up a small sack of purple silk and shook it at them, “from which you will each select a small model of the thing you are about to face! There are different—er—varieties, you see. And I have to tell you something else too...ah, yes, your task is to collect the golden egg!”

Cedric had nodded once, to show that he understood Bagman’s words, and then started pacing around the tent again; he looked slightly green. Fleur Delacour and Krum hadn’t reacted at all. 

Zephyr frowned, gears in her brain turning, “are there anti-summon spells on the egg?”

“Yes, my dear,” Bagman grinned. “We made sure there was a challenge. After all, it will not be much fun if you could just Accio the egg to you!”

“Any other rules?” She prompted, her voice echoing what Cas had instructed her to do.

Find any loopholes and use them. You are a Slytherin, Zeph’, be cunning.

“No Unforgivables, of course. You're not allowed to get any physical help from the audience,” he said, nodding, a gleam in his eyes. “You have been sorted well.”

Zephyr arched a brow and shrugged. She settled down on the floor, knees drawn to her chest, head tilted to stare at the ceiling. She needed a game plan.

How would she get a dragon away from its egg? She needed to lure it away, force it to chase after her, but what then? How can she outrun a dragon?

Zephyr sighed, dismissing the idea. It wasn't possible. What else could she do? What would her friends do?

Cas would have killed the dragon without hesitation. Dorian would knock out the dragon and have eaten the egg. Matthias wouldn't have been in this mess.

Gold. Dragons were protective of their gold.

Zephyr sat forward, eyes wide as her hands shook. She could transfigure something to look like an even shinier golden egg, bait the dragon to leave the original egg alone. She felt hopeful. It definitely could work.

And in no time at all, hundreds upon hundreds of pairs of feet could be heard passing the tent, their owners talking excitedly, laughing, joking.

Bagman opened the neck of the purple silk sack.

“Ladies first,” he said, offering it to Fleur.

She put a shaking hand inside the bag and drew out a tiny, perfect model of a dragon—a Welsh Green. It had the number two around its neck.

Krum pulled out the scarlet Chinese Fireball. It had a number three around its neck. He didn’t even blink, just sat back down and stared at the ground.

Cedric put his hand into the bag, and out came the blueish-gray Swedish Short-Snout, the number one tied around its neck. Harry put his hand into the silk bag and pulled out the Horntail.

Zephyr blinked. So, not all the dragons were Horntails.

Zephyr picked hers last. She stared down at the black scales, sharp spikes running down the wings of a Hebridean Black, purple eyes glowering at her. She wanted to laugh and she wanted to cry.

Of course she’d get the most aggressive dragon. She bet it would chase her with no regard for its egg.

“Well, there you are!” said Bagman. “You have each pulled out the dragon you will face, and the numbers refer to the order in which you are to take on the dragons, do you see? Now, I’m going to have to leave you in a moment, because I’m commentating. Mr. Diggory, you’re first, just go out into the enclosure when you hear a whistle, all right?”

Cedric paled and nodded glumly. Harry let the tent with Bagman for several minutes before the whistle was blown.

The Hufflepuff stood slowly, swaying on his feet. He thrudged from the tent.

Seconds later, they heard the roar of the crowd, which meant Cedric had entered the enclosure and was now face-to-face with the living counterpart of his model. 

It was worse than Zephyr could ever have imagined, sitting there and listening. The crowd screamed, yelled, gasped like a single many-headed entity, as Cedric did whatever he was doing to get past the Swedish Short-Snout.

Krum was still staring at the ground. Fleur had now taken to retracing Cedric’s steps, around and around the tent. And Bagman’s commentary made everything much, much worse.

Horrible pictures formed in her mind as he heard: “Oooh, narrow miss there, very narrow”...“He’s taking risks, this one!”...“Clever move–pity it didn’t work!”

And then, after about fifteen minutes, she heard the deafening roar that could mean only one thing: Cedric had gotten past his dragon and captured the golden egg.

“Very good indeed!” Bagman was shouting. “And now the marks from the judges!”

“One down, three to go!” Bagman yelled as the whistle blew again. “Miss Delacour, if you please!”

Fleur was trembling from head to foot but she left the tent with her head held high and her hand clutching her wand. 

“Oh I’m not sure that was wise!” they could hear Bagman shouting gleefully. “Oh...nearly! Careful now...good lord, I thought she’d had it then!”

Ten minutes later, Zephyr heard the crowd erupt into applause once more.

Fleur must have been successful too.

Okay, if she could successfully steal the egg, Zephyr could as well.

A pause, while Fleur’s marks were being shown; more clapping, then, for the third time, the whistle.

“And here comes Mr. Krum!” cried Bagman, and Krum slouched out, leaving Harry and her alone.

Harry looked at her, emerald eyes bright with fear, “what’s your plan?”

She shrugged, “I don't have any. Not yet, anyways.”

He nodded, swallowing.

“Very daring!” Bagman was yelling, and the Chinese Fireball emit a horrible, roaring shriek, while the crowd drew its collective breath.

“That’s some nerve he’s showing—and yes, he’s got the egg!”

Applause shattered the wintery air like breaking glass; Krum had finished.

Harry stood up. He waited. And then the whistle blew. 

“Good luck,” Zephyr murmured as Harry walked out, shaking like a leaf.

She closed her eyes once more.

“Great God! He can fly!” Came Bagman’s booming voice.

Zephyr hid a grin. The boy played smart–he should have been sorted into Slytherin.

“Look at that!” Bagman was yelling. “Will you look at that! Our youngest champion is quickest to get his egg! Well, this is going to shorten the odds on Mr. Potter!”

The whistle blew.

It was Zephyr’s turn. Suddenly, she was scared. Very, very scared. Fear gripped her heart in its skeletal vices, sweat rolling down her face.

Was Cas terrified for her as well?

Robotically, she pushed out of the tent, past the trees and through the gap in the fence.

There were hundreds and hundreds of faces staring down at him from stands that had been magicked there since she had last stood on this spot.

And there was the black beauty, purple eyes glaring down at her, at the other end of the enclosure, crouched low over her clutch of eggs, its bat-like half-furled.

It was a monstrous, scaly, black lizard, thrashing its spiked tail, its claws the length of her forearm.

The crowd was making a great deal of noise, only making the dragon angrier. Zephyr glanced up, hoping to catch Cas in the sea of Slytherins.

No such luck.

The gate slammed shut behind her and the dragon shot forward, wings extending, confirming Zephyr’s suspicions that it would rather attack her than defend its eggs.

What happens when a great, lumbering beast flies at you?

Panic, of course.

Zephyr wasn't sure what to do. Her instincts screamed at her to throw a shield up, but that wasn't very sensible.

She did the best next thing–she turned and she ran like hell.

The shadow of the dragon fell over her and she felt the heat before she saw the flames.

The crowd roared as Zephyr threw herself to the ground, stones digging into her skin. Fire slammed into the spot she was just in, the ground glowing red.

Zephyr panted, rolling onto her back as the ugly piece of crap bore down on her.

“Uh-oh, Zephyr is in deep trouble! What is she going to do?” Bagman’s gleeful voice boomed.

This is it, she thought as she met its furious gaze, I am going to die.

The dragon’s breath was hot and vile, sweat breaking up on her face. Its teeth were razor sharp. 

It was funny, as she watched the dragon’s jaws open, flames drawing up its throat, thst she mastered death and still she was on the verge of it.

“Not today, motherfucker,” she snarled and pointed her wand deep into the dragon’s throat, “Auguamenti!”

What could only be described as an ocean shot from the tip down its gullet, making the creature rear back, gurling.

The crowd screamed, thunderous claps echoing all around.

Already, Zephyr was running. She clambered up the rocks, scraping her knees raw, as she scrambled for the golden egg.

There it was, nestled between the other, regular dragon eggs. Zephyr grabbed it, raising it high in the air and the whistle blew.

“Extraordinary!” Bagman cried as the dragon keepers leapt out to rescue the dragon choking to death on the floor. “What a show! She took only five minutes!”

Her legs buckled beneath her and she collapsed onto the stone, all the strength gone from her body.

Someone was holding her shoulder. She blinked tiredly up at Madam Pomfrey, the school's healer.

“Your knee needs to be cleaned,” she said, staring at her bleeding legs.

“Mhm,” the world tilted forward–or was she the one falling? 

Her vision went black and she remembered no more.

Chapter 52: 4.11

Dear Tom,

The first task is over. Zephyr's asleep in the infirmary right now–she exhausted herself, according to Madam Pomfrey.

She secured first place. The champions were to steal a golden egg from their respective dragons. Zephyr got a particularly vicious one with purple eyes and bat-like wings. I have no clue what species it is, but the fucking thing went straight to attack her.

The other dragons had stayed to protect their eggs. I think I had a heart attack when her dragon gunned for her the moment she stepped into the arena.

Zephyr should have been in Gryffindor–she allowed the dragon to shove its ugly face over her. I swore she was going to die. Cas was praying and crying.

Then, our brave girl shot water straight down its throat. She drowned a dragon! How crazy is that?

She finished the task in just five minutes and scored thirty-three. You should have been there to see everyone's reactions. We were all too busy being terrified that we didn't even realise the whole thing was over.

Anyways, Zephyr's next task is to uncover the egg's secrets. The egg screams like a banshee when it is opened, so we're in the dark about this.

Any suggestions?

Yours,

Dorian.

---

“Mister Casspian, if you don't stop hovering, I’ll ask you to leave the room. The poor girl is exhausted and she needs rest.”

She stared up at the ceiling, mind like mush as she tried to figure out where she was.

“Zeph’!”

Calloused hands grabbed her arm. A boy’s worried fade entered her vision

“Cas?” Zephyr asked.

He grinned down at her, relief filling his face. “Good lord, you scared the hell out of me.”

“What happened?” She asked as she sat up.

“You passed out. You weren't injured so we just figured it was from tiredness.” Dorian drawled from the chair beside her bed. “Good work on the whole drowning a dragon thing. I didn't expect that.”

“No one did,” Matthias said with a snort, sitting on the edge of her bed, reading a book. “You should have heard the gasps. No one had tried to kill the dragon. Only you did.”

Zephyr winced, her body aching, “really?”

“They should have,” Cas said, kissing her cheek. “You were the fastest. Okay, but the dragon attacking you was unexpected. The other dragons guarded the egg. Yours went straight for your neck.”

“My original plan was to transfigure a rock into a pile of gold to lure the dragon away,” she reached for the cup of water on the nightstand.

She was in the infirmary in the dead of night. It must have been hours since she finished fighting the damned creature.

“That's clever,” Cas said, setting down beside her. “Cedric did the same thing–but he turned a rock into a dog which didn't work too well; the dragon lost interest halfway. All of them had more injuries than you. They got quite a bit of points deduction for that.”

“What did I get?” Zephyr rubbed her eyes.

“Thirty-three! Best out of them all. Not sure why one was deducted, though,” Cas scratched his head. “You didn't sustain any injuries because of the dragon but you did pass out. Bagman gave you a solid ten, Dumbledore and Maxime gave you nine. Karkaroff, however, gave you a five.”

“You're one point ahead of Harry and Krum. You deserved it! We thought you were really going to die,” Dorian said with a grin. “We were gripping the edges of our seats when the dragon loomed over you.”

“They briefed me on the next task,” Cas said, gesturing to her golden egg that sat on the floor. “It contains the information about the second task and you need to uncover it.”

Zephyr stared at it. “Can't I just smash it?”

“Why not?” Cas handed her the egg. “Go on."

She found the edges of the egg, a groove that ran all the way around, and pried it open. It was empty inside.

Then, the room was filled with a head-splitting horrible noise, a loud and screechy wailing. Matthias jumped, his book flying out of his hands.

She slammed the egg shut.

They stared at each other, all wearing identical stunned expressions.

“Well,” Dorian said slowly, “it couldn't have been so easy, could it?”

“Clearly,” Cas scowled at his reflection on the golden sphere.

“Maybe that was a clue,” Matthias said thoughtfully. “What did that sound like?”

“Someone screaming in pain?” Dorian shrugged helplessly.

“A banshee,” Cas added. “Surely they won't make you fight one?”

“I wouldn't rule that out either,” Zephyr said.

---

December rolled around in a flurry of snow and hail storms. No one dared to venture outdoors and Zephyr spent every day praying that the next task was indoors.

The four of them hunkered down, trying to figure out the egg. 

It honestly didn't take that long. Cas had the odd (and brilliant) idea of putting it into a cauldron full of bubbling Calming Draught, and then Zephyr had cracked it open.

They watched air rise, a strange too-soft melody filling the air and then Cas turned off the flames, waved a cooling spell over the liquid and told Zephyr to stick her ear into the potion.

“Come seek us where our voices sound,

We cannot sing above the ground,

And while you’re searching, ponder this:

We’ve taken what you’ll sorely miss,

An hour long you’ll have to look,

And to recover what we took

,But past an hour — the prospect’s black,

Too late, it’s gone, it won’t come back."

“It's an underwater task, “ Zephyr said, shaking the water from her ear. “They’ll take something important from me and hide it underwater and I will have an hour to find it.”

Cas nodded, fishing the heavy gold back out. “But what would they steal from you?”

Dorian shrugged, “no clue. Zephyr isn't the sentimental type. Why the hell did you think of putting it in our potion’s homework?”

“It might calm the damn thing down,” Cas said, chuckling. “I didn't think it would actually work.”

“Logic says that you were only supposed to submerge it in water,” Matthias said dryly. 

“Well, we cracked the code, so that's good enough.” Zephyr said, yawning. “We can focus on something else now.”

And focus on something else, they did. After a gruelling few hours of Transfiguration, they received an exciting piece of news.

“Now that Potter and Weasley have been kind enough to act their age,” said Professor McGonagall, with an angry look at the pair of them.

“I have something to say to you all. The Yule Ball is approaching—a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and an opportunity for us to socialise with our foreign guests. Now, the ball will be open only to fourth years and above—although you may invite a younger student if you wish,” she said.

Zephyr glanced at Cas, who beamed back at her.

“Dress robes will be worn,” Professor McGonagall continued, “and the ball will start at eight o’clock on Christmas Day, finishing at midnight in the Great Hall. Now then—” Professor McGonagall stared deliberately around the class.

“The Yule Ball is of course a chance for us all to, er, let our hair down,” she said, in a disapproving voice.

“But that does NOT mean,” Professor McGonagall went on, “that we will be relaxing the standards of behaviour we expect from Hogwarts students. I will be most seriously displeased if a Gryffindor student embarrasses the school in any way.”

The Slytherins groaned loudly.

“But miss!” Blaise complained, “most of us are in political marriages already, and our spouses aren't even in Hogwarts yet.”

“Go with you friends, Mister Zabini,” McGonagall said with a sigh. “Miss Greengrass will forgive you–she is eight years old, after all.”

Zephyr’s jaw dropped. “What?”

Theo nodded at her, “most pure blooded families marry young to continue to purity of the bloodline. Thank lord my aunt is open-minded and accepts that I fancy boys.”

Dorian gave the boy a fist bump, “we should go together, then.”

“You're on, Harlot,” Theo winked.

The blond blushed, grinning back shyly.

“Everyone's sorted except me,” Matthias complained. “Dorian and Theo are going together, you and Cas, and then how about me?”

“Do you like any girls?” Cas asked, hefting her books over his own, forming a large, towering stack in his arms.

“Well, there's a Ravenclaw,” Matthias began slowly, “but she never even looks at anyone, much less me! Besides, I’ll be bullied for going with her.”

“Who?” Theo furrowed his brows then his eyes widened in horror. “Oh, surely not.”

“Yes!” Matthias wailed. “I fancy Luna Lovegood!”

“Loony Luna?” Blaise demanded. “Of all people, why her? She talks to herself!”

“Who?” Dorian asked Cas.

Her boyfriend shrugged helplessly back.

The three of them were completely out of the loop when it came to gossip.

“Have you seen her? She's gorgeous!” Matthias argued back.

“That’s good enough, isn't it?” Cas slung an arm around Matthias’ shoulders. “Go ask her out, mate.”

“People will make fun of me,” Matthias said, shaking his head.

Dorian cocked a brow, “have you forgotten who we are? Arnoux, if you so much as pull your wand out—No, Cas, not that wand, don't look at me like that. Keep it in your pants—anyways, people will run miles.”

Cas, who was winking at Dorian, turned his attention to an ashamed Matthias. “Dorian’s right. We have reputations and we shouldn't fear a bunch of judgemental kids.”

“Yeah, like I trust your words,” Mattias said with a snort, “Zeph’? What's your opinion?”

“Go for it, I say,” she patted him on the arm. “You have a thing for Ravenclaws.”

“They're like a nicer version of Slytherins,” Matthias chuckled. “Okay, I’ll ask her out by tonight.”

“Potter, Sylvester, a word, please,” McGonagall called.

“I’ll meet you guys later,” Zephyr told her friends.

They bid her goodbye and headed out of the room. Harry and her made their way to their Professor’s desk.

“The champions and their partners—”  she began.

“What partners?” Harry cut in.

Professor McGonagall looked suspiciously at him, as though she thought he was trying to be funny.    

“Your partners for the Yule Ball, Potter,” she said coldly. “Your dance partners.”

Harry echoed dumbly, “dance partners? I don’t dance.”  

“Partners?” Zephyr asked. “Plural?”

“Singular, if you’d like. Traditionally, the champions and their partners open the ball.”

Harry shook his head feverishly, “I’m not dancing.”

“It is traditional,” said Professor McGonagall firmly. “You are a Hogwarts champion, and you will do what is expected of you as a representative of the school. So make sure you get yourself a partner, Potter.”

“But—I don’t—”

“You heard me, Potter,” said Professor McGonagall in a very final sort of way.

“And Zephyr,” she said. “Make sure you and Mister Blackthorn do show up. He is well aware of the customs, I believe.”

---

“Literally everyone is staying for the Yule Ball,” Dorian said in dismay. “Usually the school is nice and empty during the holidays.”

The Slytherin common room was crowded, the majority of the students staying for the dance. Since it was a traditional event, they were eager to participate. It would be a great show of wealth and power for most of them, forming more political relationships with other pure-bloods.

“I can't believe I’m going with my fiancé's elder sister,” Blaise grumbled as he tossed down his Blackjack cards. “Daphne thought it was hilarious.”

“Are you actually going to marry the girl?” Cas asked, frowning at his cards. “Do you even like her?”

“I plan to abandon the marriage as soon as I can,” Blaise shrugged. “I would rather remain single, but Lord Greengrass is pushy. I’m just praying Astoria is a lesbian and runs off with another girl.”

“At least we all have our partners,” Matthias said, yawning. “I can't believe Luna said yes.”

“Why wouldn't she?” Cas asked. “You're a decent guy.”

“Thanks,” Matthias rolled his eyes. “How's your dance lessons going?” 

Zephyr and Cas groaned. He had been teaching her the waltz, which she kept fucking up. She was positive she’d trip before they even opened the ball.

“What are you guys wearing?” Dorian asked. “I dug something from my trunk. It's a bit showy, but I think I look dashing in it.”

Theo grinned, “I bet you do.”

The Hogwarts staff, demonstrating a continued desire to impress the visitors from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, seemed determined to show the castle at its best this Christmas.

When the decorations went up, she noticed that they were the most stunning she had yet seen inside the school.

Everlasting icicles had been attached to the bannisters of the marble staircase (which Matthias had slipped on, somehow); the usual twelve Christmas trees in the Great Hall were bedecked with everything from luminous holly berries to real, hooting, golden owls, and the suits of armour had all been bewitched to sing carols whenever anyone passed them.

It was quite something to hear “O Come, All Ye Faithful” sung by an empty helmet that only knew half the words. Cas had knocked over several before Christmas came around. 

Several times, Filch the caretaker had to extract Peeves from inside the armour, where he had taken to hiding, filling in the gaps in the songs with lyrics of his own invention, all of which were very rude.

The rest of the classes went by easily, the four of them maintaining their positions as the top of their respective subjects. Matthias had even pulled up to number two in Runes.

Chapter 53: 4.12

Summary:

SMUT WARNING

Dearest Dorian,

Happy Yule. This owl should arrive before you wake.

Excuse my absence. I have been busy. Your friend is remarkably brave and quick-witted.

Here is a present from me. The necklace will keep you safe from basic hexes and can rebound them towards the caster. Wear it at all times.

Do remember the clothes I have provided you for the ball. As much as I loathe that you are going with someone else, I hope you have a good time.

As for the egg, you should try to open it under water.

Yours,

Tom.

---

Christmas came quickly, along with a pile of gifts for her. Dorian had bought a thick book on the anatomy of different magical beasts; Matthias gave her a stack of research paper on Necromancy, much to her amusement; Theo had brewed a whole batch of handy potions for all of them, ranging from healing draughts to the illegal truth serum; Blaise gave them each a little dragon figurine made of real gold; the Golden Trio bought sweets for them; Luna gave her a Phoenix Feather; and Hannah Abbott got them a bunch of Quills.

And Cas—

He had outdone himself this time.

Zephyr opened boxes after boxes of clothes, enchanted diamond jewellery, forbidden books and candy. 

She had been very ashamed of giving him a handcrafted ceramic mug she made when she was ten. The flowery cup was the only thing she could afford. Cas loved it–he drank coffee in it that morning.

The rest of her friends received her old fantasy books as usual, and they were beyond grateful for it. Her mother sent each of them knitted gloves in their house colours.

By the time they marched to the Great Hall, they were dressed matching green. After scoffing down pudding and hot chocolate, they made their way to the courtyard to join the inter-house snowball fights.

Dorian was storming the battlefield like a veteran wading through blood, snow rising above his head, forming overly-large snowballs that were projectiled so fast several people’s noses were broken. Crimson fell as fast as the snow. 

Cas was having a field day as well, razor-sharp icicles launching through the air and breaking down the snow barricades the Ravenclaws were building. Several enchanted snowmen laid twitching on the ground, icy daggers speared through their heads.

Matthias and Zephyr hid behind trees, both of them terrified of the bloodbath that was occuring.

“Why are they taking it so seriously?” Matthias yelped as he ducked a snowball lobed by a Gryffindor which exploded as it hit the ground, spraying sharp pieces of ice all around like a shrapnel bomb. “Merlin!”

Zephyr was hastily tossing up shields, trying to avoid being seen by the Weasley Twins who were trying out their new prototype–a homing snowball that chased after Draco like a relentless boomerang.

“Woo!” Cas yelled as he dove into the white ground to avoid a Hufflepuff-enchanted snowman that was swinging a fallen branch around. “Hey, that's unfair.”

Teams were being formed, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaws banding against Slytherins and Gryffindors.

By noon, everyone was freezing, cheeks pink from the cold and sporting bruises all over. They all trudged back to their dorms to get changed for the ball.

That was where Zephyr’s brilliant plan came to action. She had been sorely disappointed when Cas hadn't kept his promise of…well, being intimate with her after the first task, and she was going to force his hand after the Yule Ball.

Her dress was, simply put, tethering between scandalous and elegant; she had worn a Cheongsam, a traditional dress from her father’s culture.

It was deep red, with tiny straps that showed off her entire neck. Just below her throat, it buttoned up, but the rest of the neckline was open but the rest of the lighter-gold lacy collar of the dress dipped very low to reveal nearly all of her cleavage.

The top of the gown was form-fitting, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination of the viewers.

Gold twirled around in swirls, forming blooming flowers that glittered underneath the light. 

The bottom billowed out in waves of silk and fabric, forming a long slit running up her side, showing a hint of her equally lacy underwear whenever she moved. The bottom of the dress ghosted the floor, giving an illusion of modesty to her otherwise skimpy clothing.

It was beautiful; it was outrageous. Zephyr’s roommates, giggling with joy at being asked, helped her with her makeup, lining her eyes with black liner and swiped golden glitter across her eyelids to match her outfit. 

Her dark brown hair was charmed into neat, soft curls that bounced with every step and her lips were coloured as red as blood. Light blush was dusted across her normally colourless cheeks, and she felt like she was in a constant state of embarrassment.

She stared at herself in the mirror, a woman glaring back at her with burning charcoal eyes, wealth seemingly dripping off her features. Zephyr looked pure-blooded.

Yet, she could make out her normal features–her slightly upturned nose that she inherited from her mother, the splash of freckles that she developed growing up under constant sunlight, the slightly sharp edges of her teeth that oddly resembled fangs. 

Zephyr thought that she was beautiful–and she knew Cas would lose his goddamn mind over her. Smoothing down her gown, she headed for the stairs, her red heels clicking across the floor.

She descended into utter chaos. The Slytherins were scrambling about to find their coats and their partners, hollering at each other.

Draco walked by, looking eerily similar to a priest, Pansy clinging to his arms, drowning in pink lace. They did a double-take when Zephyr walked by.

There was a flash of gold and Dorian stepped into her path, jaw agape as he stared at her. He really did look dashing, his inner black vest ordained in golden swirls, a black coat over it. His hair was slicked back, edges hanging over his brow.

“I—wow, Zeph’, is that even you?” Dorian stuttered.

Zephyr laughed, “do I look that different?”

“Yes! Damn! Woah, if I wasn't gay, I’d be drooling,” he grinned. “Cas will have a heart attack. C’mon, the rest of them are outside.”

They fought through the mass, Zephyr trying not to trip over the ends of her dress, and eventually they shoved their way out of the Common Room.

Her friends, including Blaise, Luna and Theo were there, chatting amongst themselves. Blaise wore a simple black suit, his black hair buzzed short, making his sharp jawline stand out even further. He resembled a skeleton, if Zephyr was being honest.

Theo wore a crimson dress suit, something similar to a musical conductor, the edges of the tail touching the back of his knees. His black bowtie was neatly secured around his neck, brown hair messy.

Matthias dressed in orange, matching his hair. His long sleeves were decorated with golden trim, his clothes hugging his features tightly. He appeared even taller than usual, Luna’s head barely reaching his shoulders.

Luna wore spangled golden robes that seemed to have been taken straight out of Ancient Greece, a golden wreath sitting on her head, her blond hair falling in waves down her back. She was smiling dreamily at Matthias. He was right–Lovegood was beautiful, looking like a goddess straight out of a museum.

And Cas—

Good lord, Casspian Blackthorn.

His eyes met hers. They widened in shock and unhidden desire.

His curls were tamed slightly, a rare sight. Cas wore Slytherin colours, a black turtleneck made of velvet beneath his green jacket, a flower poking from the pocket above his breast. His deep, forest-coloured pants were tight, his slight dent of his cock visible. A green necktie hung loosely around his neck, not secured to anything. Cas looked amazing in this sexy, slightly dishevelled way.

Zephyr wanted to tear his clothes off and ride him right where he stood.

Cas’ eyes roamed her body, greedily drinking up her appearance, fire burning in them. He stepped forward, adam’s apple bobbing, and lifted her hand to his lips to brush a kiss across her knuckles.

“Firefly,” he said hoarsely. “You look edible.”

Zephyr stopped herself from reaching for his pants. Ignoring her friends, she let her hands drift up his chest, a shudder wracking his body, before she slid her arm across his shoulders and pulled him down to kiss him.

He groaned softly, palms flying to her waist, tugging her closer. Cas’ tongue darted out to lick her lips and she broke the kiss abruptly, relishing the lust-filled haze in his gaze as she leaned up.

“My panties are even more revealing,” she whispered playfully into his ear and then bit down softly on his lobe.

“Oh, Merlin,” Cas’ jaw dropped open as she leaned back, smiling innocently at him.

“Jesus!” Dorian cried. “Get a fucking room!”

“Sorry,” she giggled and turned, giving Cas a perfect view of her shapely arse, “shall we?”

“Dear Lord above, please grant me strength,” Cas muttered as he linked his arm through hers. “Amen.”

He pecked her cheek quickly and they made their way up the steps towards the entrance hall. Students mingled around, dressed in a multitude of colours. 

“You know,” Zephyr whispered to her boyfriend. “Everyone is too happy. Scarily happy.”

“I know,” he said, gazing softly down at her. “It feels like that any moment, something will go wrong.”

Over their heads Zephyr saw that an area of lawn right in front of the castle had been transformed into a sort of grotto full of fairy lights — meaning hundreds of actual living fairies were sitting in the rose bushes that had been conjured there, and fluttering over the statues of what seemed to be Father Christmas and his reindeer

“Hey, isn't that Hermione?” Dorian asked.

She craned her neck. He was right–Hermione, dressed in a gorgeous blue gown, strolled arm-in-arm with Viktor Krum. 

Zephyr grinned. At least she didn't go with that whiny Weasley junior.

Then Professor McGonagall’s voice called, “Champions over here, please!”

“We’ll see you later,” Cas said, nodding to their friends.

“Give us a good show,” Theo said and grinned wildly, his arm thrown around Dorian’s waist. “Make us proud.”

Cas inclined his head, “we will. Behave yourselves.”

“Aww,” Blaise pouted, “must we?”

Zephyr poked Cas and he sighed heavily, “nah, go crazy. Have fun today.”

Professor McGonagall, who was wearing dress robes of red tartan and had arranged a rather ugly wreath of thistles around the brim of her hat, told them to wait on one side of the doors while everyone else went inside; they were to enter the Great Hall in procession when the rest of the students had sat down.

Fleur Delacour and Roger Davies stationed themselves nearest the doors; Davies looked so stunned by his good fortune in having Fleur for a partner that he could hardly take his eyes off her.

A gasp rose from Davis as he caught sight of Zephyr. His pale eyebrows rose, eyes drifting down her figure. His mouth formed an ‘o’ shape.

“You look like a goddess,” Cas muttered to her. “Everyone is staring at you. I mean, you're already incredibly pretty, but you always wore loose clothing. Everyone wants a piece of you now. Since when were you so fit?”

Zephyr blinked, “fit?”

“You're fit, mate,” Cas tried to copy Dorian’ accent but failed miserably.

“Dear Merlin, do not do that,” she said with a groan.

The corner of his lips turned up as he tried to hide his amusement. Zephyr desperately wanted to kiss him. She wanted to scream and cry because there was no fucking way that this beautiful, beautiful boy was all hers. Cas was easily the most handsome person in the room.

Every girl was staring at him. Every boy was staring at her.

Once everyone else was settled in the Hall, Professor McGonagall told the champions and their partners to get in line in pairs and to follow her. They did so, and everyone in the Great Hall applauded as they entered and started walking up toward a large round table at the top of the Hall, where the judges were sitting.

The walls of the Hall had all been covered in sparkling silver frost, with hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy crossing the starry black ceiling. The House tables had vanished; instead, there were about a hundred smaller, lantern-lit ones, each seating about a dozen people.

Their friends cheered loudly as they strolled by. Everyone’s attention was on Cas and her. A part of Zephyr wanted to shy away, but Cas’ grip on her arm kept her moving forward.

“It's like our wedding,” Cas said softly to her.

She choked on her breath, “what?”

His soft laughter rang out as they approached the front. Dumbledore smiled happily as the champions approached the top table, but Karkaroff wore an puzzled expression when he saw Krum and Hermione.

Ludo Bagman, tonight in robes of bright purple with large yellow stars, was clapping as enthusiastically as any of the students; and Madame Maxime, who had changed her usual uniform of black satin for a flowing gown of lavender silk, was applauding them politely. The fifth seat at the table was occupied by Percy Weasley.

Harry sat beside Percy, and the rest of them dispersed towards the other empty chairs at the table.

There was no food as yet on the glittering golden plates, but small menus werelying in front of each of them. Dumbledore looked carefully down at his own menu, then said very clearly to his plate, “Pork chops!”

And pork chops appeared.

Getting the idea, the rest of the table placed their orders with their plates too. 

Zephyr ordered a grilled fish whilst Cas asked for a roasted turkey leg.

“This is awkward,” Zephyr told Cas.

He glanced up from his food, “is it?”

“Vell, ve have a castle also, not as big as this, nor as comfortable, I am thinking,” Viktor was telling Hermione. “Ve have just four floors, and the fires are lit only for magical purposes. But ve have grounds larger even than these — though in vinter, ve have very little daylight, so ve are not enjoying them. But in summer ve are flying every day, over the lakes and the mountains—”

“Now, now, Viktor!” said Karkaroff with a laugh that didn’t reach his cold eyes, “don’t go giving away anything else, now, or your charming friend will know exactly where to find us!”

Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling. “Igor, all this secrecy. One would almost think you didn’t want visitors.”

“Well, Dumbledore,” said Karkaroff, displaying his yellowing teeth to their fullest extent, “we are all protective of our private domains, are we not? Do we not jealously guard the halls of learning that have been entrusted to us? Are we not right to be proud that we alone know our school’s secrets, and right to protect them?”

Cas arched a brow. “It's just a school. Like ours.”

Karkaroff shot him a scathing look, “it is not just a school. Only pure bloods are allowed to join, making Dumstrangs the superior school.”

Cas smiled slowly, wolfishly, “aren't you charming and inclusive?”

“Oh I would never dream of assuming I know all Hogwarts’ secrets, Igor,” said Dumbledore amicably. “Only this morning, for instance, I took a wrong turn on the way to the bathroom and found myself in a beautifully proportioned room I have never seen before, containing a really rather magnificent collection of chamber pots. When I went back to investigate more closely, I discovered that the room had vanished. But I must keep an eye out for it. Possibly it is only accessible at five-thirty in the morning. Or it may only appear at the quarter moon — or when the seeker has an exceptionally full bladder.”

Cas’ eyes sparkled, “and where is this?”

“It is near the staff chambers,” Dumbledore smiled. “If you do discover the place, please let me know.”

Meanwhile Fleur Delacour was criticizing the Hogwarts decorations to Roger Davies.

“Zis is nothing,” she said dismissively, looking around at the sparkling walls of the Great Hall. “At ze Palace of Beauxbatons, we ’ave ice sculptures all around ze dining chamber at Chreestmas. Zey do not melt, of course...zey are like ’uge statues of diamond, glittering around ze place. And ze food is seemply superb. And we ’ave choirs of wood nymphs, ’oo serenade us as we eat. We ’ave none of zis ugly armor in ze ’alls, and eef a poltergeist ever entaired into Beauxbatons, ’e would be expelled like zat.” 

She slapped her hand onto the table impatiently.

Roger Davies was watching her talk with a very dazed look on his face, and he kept missing his mouth with his fork. 

“Absolutely right,” he said quickly, slapping his own hand down on the table in imitation of Fleur. “Like that. Yeah.”

Hagrid was sitting at one of the other staff tables; he was back in his horrible hairy brown suit and gazing up at the top table. Zephyr saw him give a small wave, and looking around, saw Madame Maxime return it, her opals glittering in the candlelight.

Hermione was now teaching Krum to say her name properly; he kept calling her “Hermy-own.”

“Her-my-oh-nee,” she said slowly and clearly.

“Herm-own-ninny.”

“Close enough,” she said with a grin.

When all the food had been consumed, Dumbledore stood up and asked the students to do the same.

Then, with a wave of his wand, all the tables zoomed back along the walls leaving the floor clear, and then he conjured a raised platform into existence along the right wall.

A set of drums, several guitars, a lute, a cello, and some bagpipes were set upon it.The Weird Sisters now trooped up onto the stage to wildly enthusiastic applause; they were all extremely hairy and dressed in black robes that had been artfully ripped and torn.

They picked up their instruments and Zephyr groaned softly.

The lanterns on all the other tables had gone out, and that the other champions and their partners were standing up.

Cas helped her to her feet, Dorian’s whooping audible from where they stood. 

The Weird Sisters struck up a slow, mournful tune; and Cas led her carefully to the floor.

“Eyes on me,” he instructed softly. “Keep your hand on my shoulder. Other hand in mine.”

Zephyr followed his words, clasping his palm in hers. He gripped her waist and pulled her close. She sighed happily and rested her head against his firm chest. She felt like she was soaring as they drifted across the ground, twirling and swaying. 

A devious idea entered her head and she turned, pressing her arse right against his crotch, grinding softly.

He let out a low groan, pulling her firmly against him. Zephyr grinned and escaped the position, tossing her hair away to bare her neck. Cas’ eyes darkened, his expression pained.

“Hey!” Dorian exclaimed as he and Theo made their way over, practically skipping. “The food was great.”

“He ordered thirds,” Theo said with a chuckle. 

The brunette dipped Dorian who let out a yelp of surprise. They burst into giggles, faces red as they danced.

Matthias and Luna were…Zephyr wasn't sure if they were even dancing. They were kind of stepping on each other and flailing their arms around. But they were both grinning at each other and that was all that mattered.

Cas twirled her and then pulled her back. He tilted his head to press his lips against hers and the world melted away. She let her hand drift downwards as subtly as she could, palming his half-erected cock and his hips bucked into her touch.

“Zeph’,” he warmed lowly.

She retreated, giggling, “sorry.”

Zephyr wanted to stay like that forever, entangled in his arms and lips on his. A new song started, upbeat and cheerful, and they broke their kiss to match the tempo.

“I wish we had more dances like this,” Cas said, guiding her around him.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “I wish we can stay like this forever.”

He huffed a laugh, “dancing forever?”

“No, just…happy. Forever.”

“We will be, one day. I’ll make sure we’ll get a happy ending.”

“Doesn't matter,” Zephyr said softly. “As long as it ends with you by my side.”

“Forever,” he promised quietly. “Forever.”

He nuzzled into her neck, lips ghosting up to her ear. She shivered, tightening her grip on his shoulder.

“Let's leave,” he said abruptly. 

Her eyes widened, “huh?”

“C’mon,” he grabbed her hand. “I can't take it anymore.”

Cas dragged her out of the hall, the door slamming shut behind them. 

“Where are we going?” Zephyr asked as she was tugged down the stairs.

“Any empty classroom,” Cas’ voice came back hoarse.

Oh!

Her blood turned into liquid fire, flames burning deep in her belly. Her knees weakened, shaking with anticipation as they slammed through a room. They didn't dare turn the lights on in case someone came to investigate.

Cas locked the door, chest heaving as he turned around.

Zephyr’s throat tightened as he approached, looking too damned edible for his own good. She was edged backwards into a table, the chair tumbling to the floor. They ignored the loud crash as they stared at each other through the darkness.

“You drive me crazy,” Cas breathed, running a hand down her thigh, thumbing the slit in the dress. 

His palm was warm and rough, her pussy clenching with need. Zephyr wanted his bare skin against hers.

She reached for his coat, pulling it off his shoulders to fall in a heap on the floor. Cas kicked it away and grabbed her waist, hoisting her onto the table. 

Zephyr’s Qibao hitched up around her arse, baring her legs to the chill. Goosebumps erupted across her skin as he moved closer, tugging her to the edge of her seat so his pants were pressed roughly against her soaked core.

“Merlin,” Cas whispered, kissing her neck, hands drifting to grab her thighs roughly, no doubt leaving bruises there.

“No,” she said, staring up at him, “Zephyr. My name’s Zephyr.”

“Zephyr,” he groaned, biting down on her shoulder, making her yelp. “Fuck, Zeph’.”

She opened her legs wider, grinding her hips against his hard cock, chasing the relief the friction gave her.

Do not think of Lockhart.

Cas’ fingers worked on the zip and soon, her clothes joined his jacket on the ground. His throat bobbed as he examined the lingerie she wore. It was red, more strings than cloth, barely covering her hardening nipples. 

Lockhart’s hand was entering her underwear—

Cas was not Lockhart. Zephyr was safe.

Her panties were the same, a see-through mesh that bared her shaven pussy for him to see, a damp spreading across her inner lips.

“You're so wet,” he gasped, fingers rubbing her clit through her underwear and she moaned softly, pushing her pussy harder into his hands.

Zephyr was on fire, electricity tingling down her spine. She grasped the hem of his shirt and pulled at it, desperately needing to feel his firm muscles.

He let out a huff of amusement and helped her strip.

“Have you ever…” he trailed off.

“No,” she shot him a questioning look. “I’ve been by your side since I was eleven.”

“It’ll hurt,” he said, removing her bra and tossing it to the side. 

Glass shattered, but they didn't care.

Cas roughly palmed her chest, thumb and forefinger pinching her pert nipples, making her arch her back with a strangled gasp.

He leaned down, capturing her breast in his lips, sucking hard, and Zephyr’s vision went black for a second, pleasure making her stomach clench.

His hand slid across her stomach, down her inner thighs, squeezing as he went. Cas slid her panties off and she shivered as his fingers ran across her slick folds, rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves that was her clit.

Cas bit down on her left nipple, making her whine as he moved his thumb faster and faster in circles, her legs wrapping around his waist, grinding hard into his touch.

“You're so wet for me,” he panted, and she felt his fingertip prod at her soaking entrance.

Then, he sank his finger into her. She cried out, hips lifting up to meet his thrust, and desire curled through her.

He added a second finger, the thick digits filling her and she moaned as they slid in and out easily, her arousal making it easy.

Cas’ thumb still worked on her clit, and when he curled his fingers, hitting something deep in her, a flash of heat ran down her body and the tension in her belly exploded. Zephyr came with a hoarse shout, trembling on the table.

The brunette quickly pulled off his belt and it clinked as it hit the wooden floor. She heard his zipper get undone and she reached forward to grab his cock, pulling it from his boxers.

The skin was silky, veins thrumming from base to top, the mushroom head smooth and hard. She found the slit and ran a thumb over it, making Cas moan.

“Grasp the length,” he said, voice rough. “And move your hand–wait.”

His fingers slipped into her again and she gasped as he wet his fingers with her slick and rubbed it on his cock. 

“Go,” he murmured. “Pull hard.”

Zephyr’s hand trembled as she began working her closed hand up and down his shaft, her arousal helping the movement become fluid, and Cas threw his head back, hissed breaths escaping through clenched teeth.

“Yes, that's right,” he told her. “Good girl.”

Her pussy clenched at his praise. She grabbed his hand, directing his fingers back to her entrance. Cas slipped her fingers back into her body, her warm walls massaging his hand.

“You're so tight,” Cas grunted. “I can't wait to fill you with my cock. God, will I even fit?”

Zephyr’s mouth fell open at his lewd words, her heart thumping in her chest.

Cas pushed her down onto the table, the cold biting at her naked back. He nudged her legs apart with his thighs.

Waves of heat rode through her as Cas’ tip rubbed at her entrance, and fear shot through her. Was he too big for her? He definitely felt huge in her hands.

She felt the burning stretch of his bulbous cock slowly push in, spearing her open and she grabbed the edge of the counter, panting.

Slowly, Cas slid deeper into her, both of their gasps filling the air. He took his time, tearing her open, pain shooting through her.

“Almost fully in,” he groaned lowly. “You're so tight.”

Finally, she felt the rough hair of his crotch rub against her clit, a whole new sensation that set her alight. They panted, unmoving for several seconds.

“Fuck,” his fingers rolled her nipple. “You're perfect. Let me know when you're ready.”

She tried to relax her walls, needing to swallow Cas’ cock deeper. She wanted his whole damned body inside her.

“Okay,” she breathed.

Cas stared down at her, desire hazing his eyes over, like he was memorising her body before he pulled away and slammed back into her. Her body jerked as pleasure tingled through, her skin burning.

“Fuck!” Zephyr groaned.

Cas moved his hips, rocking into her, his arms trembling as he gripped her waist, pulling her to meet his thrusts. 

Her pussy clenched and he grunted, “yes! That's it.”

The sound of skin slapping skin filed the room, his balls hitting her ass as he hooked her legs around him once more, pushing his cock impossibly further.

The tension in her stomach tightened until it was almost painful. Trembers wracked her body, making her arch off the table, his name falling from her lips like a prayer.

Cas reached a hand between them, stroking her hard nub.

Her vision went white as it came undone and she crashed down, crying his name. 

But Cas wasn't done.

He continued snapping his body against her frail one, eyes shut as he worked her through her orgasm, drawing out pleasure once more.

“I’m coming,” he said, groaning and he pulled out quickly, shooting his warm cum over her breasts, coating her in his seed.

They stood (well, Zephyr laid) there in silence, heaving for air, as his liquid slipped down her stomach.

“Wow,” Cas said brilliantly. “Wow. That was insane. Ten out of ten, I would do that again.”

She giggled, pressing a hand over her face. “Yeah.”

Cas cleared his cum with a wave of his wand and then they got dressed, grinning giddily at each other.

“Should we go back to the ball?”

“Haven't had enough balls yet?” Cas arched a brow.

She scowled, slapping his shoulder, “shut up.”

Chapter 54: 4.13

Summary:

well hi?

been a while...been busy with my A levels so sorry. hadnt had the time to write nor the motivation to soooooo yep

They spent the rest of the night gossiping with their friends (“Did you know that Ron fancied Hermione? He was seething when he found out she went with Krum.” “And why have you been staring at them, Dorian?” “I love drama.”).

At midnight, the Weird Sisters finished their last tunes and they filed out of the entrance hall, all slightly drunk. Someone had spiked the apple juice with vodka.

“You know,” Cas began as they descended to their Common Room in the dungeons, “I’m curious about something.”

Matthias was holding Luna’s hand, swinging their arms back and forth between them. “And what is that?”

“Who you’ve been writing to, Dorian.”

Dorian choked on his breath. “What?”

Cas laughed, “c’mon, you received hundreds of letters and refused to share them with us.”

“I can have privacy, can't I?” Dorian scowled. “Plus, it's complicated.”

Theo arched a brow, “you have a fella?”

“No!” Dorian said, turning red. “He—”

“There's a he!” Blaise cheered.

“Oh, Merlin,” the blond groaned. “Yes, I have a he and I won't reveal him yet.”

“We’ve been through hell and back together, Harlot,” Cas said with a dramatic sigh. “Why won't you tell us?”

“Because,” his blue eyes flickered to Theo, Blaise and Luna, one after the other, “you will judge.”

“We promise we won't.” Matthias said.

Dorian stopped outside their common room, running a tired hand through his blond hair. “It's really complicated and I can't say it yet. One day, yes, but…not now. Please.”

He had never begged before.

Zephyr nodded once, “okay. Keep your secrets. Don't let your little boyfriend hurt you.”

“He is far from being my boyfriend,” Dorian’s lips curled into a self-deprecating smile. “He's insane. Horrible. Someone who has done so many bad things and should die. Merlin, I should kill him myself. But he treats me so good and his attention is an addiction.”

Cas raised an eyebrow and said, “you're whipped for him.”

He scowled, “no. Shut up. I want to rest. Goodnight.”

Dorian kissed Theo’s cheek and slipped into their Common Room.

“Well,” Cas said, blinking. “That was something! Thanks for today, and stuff. Whatever. Go sleep.”

---

Zephyr sat at the Three Broomsticks, alone and numb, on the two year anniversary of nearly being raped by Lockhart.

She sipped her Butterbeer, letting the warmth wash down her anger that simmered in her belly. She had skipped her classes that day. She left a note on Cas’ bedside, something along the lines of that she would be back by nightfall and that she was safe.

Zephyr pressed her forehead against the glass, wondering how many points she had lost her house by now. It would have been lunch back at Hogwarts, which meant she had skipped both DADA and Potions.

Cas probably figured out what was going on already. No doubt, he was worrying about her like a fussing mother, but he wasn't her priority at the moment.

All she wanted to do was get plastered.

Another burning sip of her drink that she had slipped a generous glug of Fire Whiskey in and she sighed softly, revelling in the haze it gave her.

God, she hated Lockhart with a fiery passion. It was hilarious thinking of the number of witches who would have killed to be raped by Lockhart and his shiny teeth. 

She wished she knocked them out when she had the chance.

“You're a bit underaged, aren't ya?” The bartender asked her as he slid over a glass of water. “Hogwarts kid?”

“No,” she lied, not taking the effort to make it sound convincing. She was tired.

The man laughed, leaning on the counter. “Sure you aren't. I was one too, you know? Hufflepuff. Skipped some classes too. Did the same thing. It's a rite of passage. I won’t snitch.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “And what do you want in return?”

His blue eyes twinkled as he said, “Slytherin, then. Always checking for hidden meanings. I’ll lend you a listening ear. Nothing in return.”

Zephyr blinked at the man, brain foggy from the pleasant buzz of alcohol. “Erm, okay? Today is the…two year anniversary of something really bad that happened to me. I’m trying to drown my sorrows.”

“You know, the whole point of telling someone your troubles is to tell them, not be vague. It’ll help to get it out of your system.” The man refilled her mug of butterbeer.

“I—” she frowned around the rim of her glass, trying to phrase her story to make it sound less alarming. The last thing she needed was Child Protective Services, or whatever the magical equivalent of it was, to come for her. “Well, there was this…boy. Yeah, a boy. He rap–no, touched me…inappropriately and then obliviated me. I managed to recover the memories and…yeah. I still feel his hands on my body when I close my eyes. I hate it.”

“Did you get justice?” The man asked softly.

She nodded, gaze unfocused. “My boyfriend did, for me. He wasn't my boyfriend at the time.”

The slightly more logical part of Zephyr’s brain was screaming at her that her words were nonsensical. Zephyr did not care.

She cared for very little nowadays.

“Where is he?”

“Who?”

“Your mister.”

Zephyr hid a snort. “In class, probably worrying his ass off about me.”

“And what do you plan to do after Hogwarts?”The man asked her.

She shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

“What's your favourite subjects? Best subjects?”

Zephyr pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Well, I like…medicine. Science, muggle one. I love animals and plants. I score well in Herbology and Care of Mythical Creatures.”

“Potions?”

“E, but barely an E.”

“Are you interested in Magizoology?”

“What's that?” Zephyr asked and drowned down the rest of her drink.

Yum.

The man scratched the back of his head. “Well, it's basically a zoo-keeper for magical animals. Think of dragons, unicorns, the works.”

She stared at him, jaw dropping open. There were people who specialised in…caring for mystical creatures? Like, dragon doctors?

Holy shit.

That was awesome.

Or perhaps, she was so drunk that everything was cool. Who knows?

Zephyr definitely did not.

What were they talking about again?

She giggled, “dragons? Baby, flowery, exploding dragons.”

“What?” The man asked her stupidly.

Why was he so slow? Stupid adult man.

“Hah,” she muttered, words slurring together, “adults.”

“Yeah, okay, I’m going to owl your boyfriend.” He reached over to grab a piece of parchment and a quill. “What's his name?”

“Cas—” Zephyr’s mouth felt dry. “Cas?”

“Cas what?”

“Blackthorn.”

“Caspian Blackthorn is your boyfriend? Wait…are you,” the man leaned closer to examine her face, “Zephyr Sylvester?”

“Used to be Sylvester-Lee but my dad tried to kill my mom,” she said and slapped a hand over her mouth, a giggle falling through her fingers. “Whoops.”

“I—” The man shook his head. “Nevermind. Stay here. I’ll find an owl and get a letter to him. You can't go back to Hogwarts like this.”

“Bleh,” she pulled a face at the man’s back. “Spoil sport.”

The man ignored her and walked away up the stairs. She pouted and flagged down another bartender.

“Firewhiskey,” she said with a grin.

“Yeah, sure,” the woman filled a glass halfway and pushed it over without looking her way.

Zephyr took a deep swing, warmth spreading through her chest. Then, the fire grew way too hot. She frowned. Why was her heart burning so much?

Was she dying?

Did she care if she was?

She breathed deeply, brushing her chest. Then, she downed the rest of the cup.

Her head suddenly felt very heavy. She tucked her chin into her neck, and it made the feeling worse. Zephyr pressed her forehead onto the bar counter, relishing the cool marble against her heated skin.

“Jus’ one sec’,” Zephyr murmured to herself as her eyes slipped shut.

---

Cool hands touched her arms, shaking gently. She shot up, and the back of her head collided with something hard.

“Ow!” She cried and the hand went up to rub her scalp.

“Sorry,” a soft voice said. “I was standing too close. How are you feeling, Firefly?”

She blinked up at her boyfriend, who seemed to have rushed out of class. His robes were off, and he was just wearing his wrinkled white button-up, sleeves rolled up.

He was so handsome. She reached for his face but her limbs were too heavy and she ended up slapping him on the nose.

Cas blinked, grabbed her wrist and kissed her palm. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“Mhm, warm,” she leaned into his chest, which was what she had slammed her head into earlier, and clutched the hem of his shirt.

“You have money to pay—?”

Cas rummaged through his pocket and dropped a handful of coins onto the table. “Keep the change.”

“This is, like, four times her bill.”

“Keep it. I don't really care, “ Cas snapped and she flinched. “Sorry, my love. Can you stand?”

He tugged her off the chair and as soon as her feet touched the floor, her knees buckled. Cas caught her, hauling her back up.

Zephyr giggled. His arms were so strong. So nice and smooth and veiny. She tilted her head down, and took a nice bite of the flesh of his arm around her neck.

“Hey!” Cas exclaimed. “No biting!”

She examined the red teeth imprints on his skin and licked the injury. His skin was salty. She wanted to lick his cock.

“Okay,” Cas said, pulling her flush against him. “I have no idea what to do with you. I should have brought Dorian.”

“The blonde?” She slurred.

“Blond, filthy-rich guy,” he confirmed. “That's Dorian.”

She frowned, “filthy is a filthy word to say.”

“Sorry,” Cas said and brushed the hair from her face. “Dorian is a blond, very rich guy.”

Zephyr nodded, approving his word choice. “Hehe.”

“Dear Merlin,” he said, groaning. “Should I just knock you out and carry you?”

“That is mean,” she said with a stern expression.

“I’m at a loss, Zeph’.” Cas said with a sigh. “I wonder if…”

He turned to the bartender, the Hufflepuff guy, and asked, “do you know where the boundaries of Hogwarts extend to?”

“What? Er…I think just beyond the train station. Why?”

“No reason. Thanks,” Cas said, then paused. “And thank you for taking care of her. She’s normally the one taking care of me.”

“No worries, Miste–Lord? Lord Blackthorn,” the man said, scratching his chin. “Thanks for keeping my bar safe.”

“This is awkward and I am disengaging from this conversation,” Cas announced and grabbed her arm. “C’mon.”

He hauled her up, her arm hooked around his shoulders. Slowly, he dragged her out of the door, the bell above chiming cheerfully.

The sunlight warmed her as they stepped out of the bustling interior into the equally busy streets. 

“Why did you ask about the boundaries?” Zephyr blinked up at him.

Cas gave her a wiry smile, “I’m going to side-along Aparate you back to the train station. It’ll be difficult to get you back to Hogwarts any other way.”

“What?” That sobered her up really quickly. “Are you nuts?”

“And welcome back,” Cas said and grinned at her, dragging out the end of ‘and’ so it sounded like ‘andddd’.

“I’ll hurl,” she warned him.

“That's fine,” he said with a shrug. “I’ve seen worse. I’ve hurled on you before. You can return the favour.”

Cas tightened his grip on her, dropped a kiss on her head and then the world whirled together in a blend of greens and greys.

Apparating whilst drunk was possibly the worst thing Zephyr had ever experienced, which was saying a lot. The dizziness of the alcohol intensified and she felt as if she was inside a washing machine from hell, spinning round and round.

However, no matter how out of it she was, Zephyr could tell the difference between Apparating herself and how Cas did it.

His magic was heavier, demanding, like a blanket of smoke pushing its way into a room; silky and smooth but rough at the same time. It was so carefully controlled that it made her gasp. She was a bumbling, stumbling toddler playing with muggle card tricks compared to Cas. 

She felt his abilities pull her across space, navigating them expertly across the land.

It was insane, terrifying and oh-so sexy.

They were spat out on the floor of the train station. Zephyr turned and immediately emptied her stomach onto a patch of grass.

“Woah!” Cas grabbed her shoulders. “You good?”

She gripped his arm, shuddering. The world swam before her eyes, the liquor a particularly hellish roller coaster twirling in her belly.

An arm went around her, holding her weight, and Cas tugged her forward. Together, they stumbled back to the school.

Zephyr wasn't sure how long it took or what happened in between. She just knew that by the time they reached their common room, he was carrying her and she was half asleep. 

A soft mattress met her back. Cas laid beside her, wiggling his arm under her, and pulled her to his chest.

“You know,” he began softly, a hand inching up to rub her scalp. “We are gonna have a ton of detentions for this. Our attendance is horrible.”

She nuzzled into his chest. “I don't care.”

“Mhm,” he said with a hum that vibrated his body. “Why'd you drink?”

Zephyr closed her eyes, taking a couple of seconds to listen to his heart thudding in his chest. Casspian was so alive and so warm–and all hers.

“Today is the,” she swallowed, “the one year since Lockheart—”

She couldn't finish the sentence.

His grip tightened on her. “It is. But that does mean you should drink. He's not worth that.”

“I know.”

“Zeph’, it wasn't your fault.”

“I know.”

“He's vile.”

“I know.”

Cas sighed, a tired release of breath into the night sky. Like he was giving up–giving up on her. “Goodnight, Firefly.”

She hummed in return and turned away from her boyfriend.

As expected, they served a hefty detention every day for a week after the incident. Cas was forced to grade the DADA homework for the first years whilst Zephyr sorted through the library. 

Cas paid extra attention to her, practically sticking to her side like there was super glue on their shirts. He began even more overprotective, to the point that he had to be held back by Dorian whenever anyone even tried to look at her.

“I feel like I’m a side character,” Dorian grumbled to them as they walked across the hallway to their class.

“If this were a book, me and Zeph’ would be the main characters and you’d barely be mentioned,” Cas said, an arm slung around her shoulders.

She raised an eyebrow at him.

Dorian scowled, “I want a spin off series about me. I deserve a whole franchise where I’m front and centre.”

Matthias raised his cup of iced coffee into the air. “Cheers to that. It's good to have dreams, even if they're unrealistic.”

“Fuck off,” Dorian elbowed the boy. “Why am I friends with you all?”

“You followed us,” Cas said, grinning. “And blackmailed us into becoming your friends.”

“Yeah, well, I was too young thus I made drastic decisions,” the blond rolled his eyes. “C’mon, I want to check out the Robes shop. Heard there was a designer piece being shipped today.” 

Their merry band of idiots entered the store in question. Zephyr made a beeline to a seat, knowing she had about a Sickle to her name, and the best she could buy in the shop was a string.

It was a pretty place, tastefully decorated with shooting stars that shot across the ceiling, twinkling in the darkness. Many clothing racks were scattered around the place, with colourful robes of all kinds hung on them. Dorian was speaking with the shop owner and Matthias was browsing the clothes there with surprising enthusiasm.

Cas had picked up a pair of heavy duty boots, the type that looked like it could break down a door, and was checking the soles of it.

“What do you think about the next task?” She called out.

Cas set the shoes down, turning to her. “Well, it's obvious they would take something you treasure and you’d have to rescue it.”

She met his gaze. “I treasure you.”

His cheeks flushed slightly and he cleared his throat, “rest assured I wouldn't get kidnapped.”

“Yeah, have you seen the guy?” Dorian said, holding a dark green robe to his chest as he examined himself in the mirror. “Cas is like, the least likely to be taken. He could break out by himself.”

Matthias nodded, smiling reassuringly at her, “they’re right. Cas would be fine.”

---

Cas was kidnapped from his bed the night before the next task and they only discovered his disappearance in the morning.

“I told you so,” Zephyr said, staring at his empty bed, his bedsheets on the floor.

She didn't even feel scared for the boy. She had known it would happen. It was so obviously going to happen that she couldn't even feel shocked.

Dorian looked exhausted. “Well, he definitely put up a good fight.”

Matthias pressed a hand to his eyes. “What now?

Her friends seemed more stressed out than she was. Maybe Zephyr had such faith in Cas that she wasn't too worried about him.

“Get him back?” Zephyr gave them a weird look. “What else can we do? How did you two sleep through a kidnapping?”

“Merlin, I don't know!” Matthias said, groaning. “It was so unexpected.”

“I did call it,” Zephyr pointed out dryly. “I knew it.”

“So, your boyfriend is currently drowning in the lake and we need to find a spell to get you down there, rescue him, and swim back up,” Dorian summarised. “Easy peasy.”

“I can't swim.”

“Okay, Cas is dead. Time to find a new boyfriend, Zeph’.”

“You are such a downer,” Zephyr scowled. “I am not abandoning him in a lake. I’m pretty fond of the guy.”

“And the guy is the best with spells too,” Dorian said, sitting down heavily on Cas’ bed. “If Matthias or I were taken, we’d be fine. Cas would have a hundred ways of rescuing us. We, on the other hand, are sort of clueless when it comes to this.”

Matthias nodded, “yeah, if you can’t swim, we’re kind of out of options. You sure you don't want to leave him there?”

“Is this a ploy to get rid of Cas?” Zephyr asked her oh-so-supportive friends. “Besides, I have an idea. You know the bubble spell?”

“There's a bubble spell?” Matthias blinked, leaning against a table. “Wow. Is it in the end of year exams? If it is, I’m failing.”

Zephyr sighed. Merlin, her friends were so stupid. “It’s called a Bubble-Headed spell. Caput Bulla. Cas showed me once. It creates a bubble around your face to help you breathe underwater. But it won't help me with the physical aspect of swimming.”

“At least you don't have to worry about drowning,” Dorian pointed out. “Just let yourself sink and figure it out from there. Kick your legs and move your arms in the direction you need to go. What you really need to worry about is the giant squid. And the Merpeople.”

“Merpeople?” Zephyr asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Dorian said solemnly, “I’m pretty sure there are Merpeople at the bottom of the lake. Horrible creatures, really. They are vicious and want to wipe out anyone who can't breathe underwater from existence. They like to drag people down and give them a watery death.”

“Surely Hogwarts won't let such dangerous creatures stay in their lakes where students hang out around?” Matthias asked, eyes wide with alarm.

Dorian raised an eyebrow and Zephyr had horrible flashbacks to the trolls, Fluffy the three-headed dog, sending them on missions, Dementors and dragons.

“They would,” Zephyr said miserably. “They absolutely would.”

Matthias’ face paled even further so before the boy fainted, Zephyr decided to change the subject.

“How do I go back up?” She asked.

“Leviosa yourself or something. I’m sure you can figure it out,” Matthias gave her a thumbs up.

Dorian turned his unimpressed gaze to the ginger. “You can't Leviosa yourself.”

“Why not?”

“I dunno. It just said so in the textbook,” Dorian shrugged.

“I’m absolutely failing my exams,” Matthias whispered to himself. “This is why you don't become a war hero at fourteen.”

“Well, there's Depulso—” Zephyr began.

The pile of bedding on the floor shot across the room and crashed into a lamp on Matthias’ table, knocking it to the floor with a mighty crash and a spray of ceramic shards.

“Whoops,” Zephyr said with a wince. “Sorry.”

“Repairo,” Matthias said, giving her a blank look. “At least I know this spell.”

The broken bits of glass flew back together, the lamp fixing itself. 

“You were saying?” Dorian asked and examined his fingernails.

“That spell can probably propel me upwards to the surface. I can push the water away from me and use the force to bring me up,” Zephyr said, scratching her forehead. “Theoretically, it’d work.”

“That's the best plan we came up with so far,” Dorian agreed.

“What do you mean we? I thought of it all alone. You two just encouraged the idea of letting our best friend drown.”

“How dare you accuse us of mutiny?” Dorian gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. “We would never.”

 

Chapter 55: 4.14

Dorian and Matthias waved to her on the stands. The seats that were erected during the first task had been moved around the lake so the students could spectate the second task as well.

It must be boring, though. The whole task was underwater and unless the students could somehow see through the lake, they would be staring at the water for a while. How fun.

Zephyr made her way to the other side of the lake where the judges and contestants were gathered, her walk a leisurely stroll. The judges were sitting at a table, Barty Crouch missing from the group. Harry gave her a small grin as she approached.

Her heart began to pound in her chest when she spotted him.

“Zephyr!” Lugo Bagman said. “How nice of you to join us—”

She grabbed his arm, twisting it behind his back and shoving him against the table, putting all her weight against the movement. Chairs screeched back as the judges jumped up, wands pulled out, but Dumbledor shook his head and they stepped back, their weapons lowered reluctantly.

Her own wand was pressed gently against the underside of his jaw and the man gulped, his adam’s apple bobbing nervously.

“You can throw me into an arena with a dragon. You can subject me to all sorts of dangers,” Zephyr said softly, “but you do not touch my friends. Once I get Cas back, he’ll rain hell down on you, and I’ll help him. We have unconditional immunity now and I will use it to harm you if I must. You may think this is just a fun little game to you, but Cas means the fucking world to me and may the Lord help you if he is harmed by your actions.”

“He agreed to it! We had his consent!” Bagman cried out, his voice hoarse. 

Zephyr tilted her head and said, “people don't care about consent nowadays.”

“Miss Sylvester, he is correct,” Dumbledor said slowly, calmly, like he was approaching a wild animal. “Mister Blackthorn gave his consent to participate in this task. He understood the risks.”

“When he’s back, I’ll ask him myself,” she promised. “But if I find out that you are lying, I will kill you.”

“Surely you don't mean that,” Bagman said in a strangled whisper.

“I do,” Zephyr stepped back, pocketing her wand.

The whole group seemed to let out a collective breath of relief.

Bagman cleared his throat, hands shaking. “Shall we start?”

The judges took their seats again, all throwing her wary glances. Zephyr couldn't care less, her blood boiling in her veins. They took Cas.

“Sonorus!” And his voice boomed out across the dark water toward the stands. “Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle. They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three, then. One...two...three!”

Zephyr sighed heavily. What the hell was she doing? This was so fucked up in so many ways. She kicked off her shoes and socks, rolled her shoulders back, and began wading into the lake.

The dark water was freezing and her movements were sluggish, muscles hindered by the temperature.

“Cold, cold, cold,” she muttered, shivering. “Fuck.”

She dunked herself into the water, trying to get acclimated to the cold first before it got the better of her. Once she was thoroughly soaked, she sank into the lake properly, head submerged and casted her bubble spell silently over herself.

Zephyr blinked away the water from her eyes, hoping she didn't get any eye diseases from contact with the murky waters, and took a deep breath. The bubble held steady.

She lifted her wand, “point me to Cas.”

The tip of the wand was nudged to the right. 

“Depulso,” Zephyr said, flicking her wand behind her, praying inwardly that the spell would work on her.

She shot through the water like a torpedo, a surprised screech leaving her lips. The spell had moved her a good, what, twenty metres in a second.

“Okay,” she said slowly, to herself. “Point me.”

Below her was a mess of what seemed to be seaweed, dancing in the currents. Small fish swam past her, only hints of silver and gold. Zephyr was completely, thankfully, alone, no other champion in sight.

It was strange swimming around, every sound around her was muffle, like they were coming from, well, underwater (duh). Shadows flirted in the depths, morphing between plants and vaguely humanoid shapes that gave her miniature heart attacks.

There was a flash of movement to her right. Before Zephyr’s brain could even register it, she was surrounded by…what the fuck?

They were Mermaids, but with fish-like faces, slimy (naked) bodies and tiny, horribly sharp teeth.

Three Merpeople circled her like sharks, their grey skin blending in so perfectly with the darkness of the lake that she could barely track them. Their hair; long, surprisingly luscious and green, floated around their heads like halos of algae. Their eyes glowed yellow in the dimness, almost like little fireflies flirting around in the night.

Hasn't Dorian mentioned that they had war-like tendencies? It was just her luck that she’d stumble upon these assholes. Of course she would. The fates loved to give her a hard time.

Zephyr pressed her lips together and cursed out every single teacher she could name. Fucking Dumbledor and his manipulative ways. Damned Lockheart’s paedophilia. And their stupid Divination teacher, too. 

“I’m a bit busy,” she began slowly, not sure if her voice could be heard or even if the Merpeople understood English, “so could we do this another time?”

They pounced as one. Fighting whilst trying to swim was definitely a new experience. Cas had drilled it into her that having the proper casting stance was important to spells, and footwork would help a ton when exchanging curses with her opponent.

She had nothing to stand on and her movements were sluggish. Zephyr swung around, or more accurately, floated around, and a sharp pain exploded across her shoulder. Blood drifted up lazily from the claw wound, incarnadine and melting seamlessly into the black water. 

Her chest heaved and she spun, barely dodging the next attack.

Cas was incapacitated somewhere down here with these vicious bastards and the adults had deemed it safe. He could be injured and possibly even dead. Her Casspian could be dead.

Zephyr’s vision bled red.

“Avada Kedavra!” Her voice was strong, unwavering, body trembling with rage.

The spell lit the murky depths up in a brilliant flash of green, homing in on to the nearest Merperson with deadly accuracy. The Killing Curse slammed into its chest and it went slack, face void of its murderous expression.

The other two Merpeople froze, wariness written on their fishy faces.

Zephyr was far from done with them. 

She felt the life around her, the plants swaying below her and the fishes that darted in and out of the weeds. Zephyr heard the colours and saw the sounds of the lake, which was a tad bit weird, even for her. 

She drew in that feeling, collected that greedily; like a lost man in a dessert finding water, and extended her hand towards the dead Merperson. She felt the coldness of its skin against her palm, the lack of the beating in its chest and pushed life back into the creature.

Its body jerked.

“Kill them,” she hissed.

The merperson turned its gaze onto its former friends and shot forward, quick as a bullet, tackling the closest one. Her undead soldier’s jaw closed down on its companion’s throat and a silent scream escaped its victim, bubbles floating up from its mouth and towards the surface.

Zephyr would never be able to properly describe the feeling of having full control over a lifeless body to anyone, even if she had the thesaurus in front of her and Cas to help. It was dark and slippery in a way, like she was submerged in an oil spill; a heavy, wet and cold blanket settling over her. Then came the exhilaration.

That was the exact moment Zephyr understood why people craved power, why all the evil tyrants of the world wanted to have everyone underneath their thumb.

Electricity rushed through her, her veins turning into live cables, her blood thrumming beneath her skin. The excruciating throbbing of her cut faded into the background, like the static white noise of a television.

Zephyr had never felt more alive and more in control of her life. In that moment, Zephyr could have burnt down the world. Zephyr was a goddess, omnipotent and all-powerful. Morals seemed so silly to her. She was right, she was always right in whatever she did, every choice she ever made and would ever make. No one could or should question her decisions. Who were they compared to her?

Zephyr turned her attention to the last survivor. The Merperson had already turned tail and ran quite far away (or swam, who cared about the technicalities and all that?). She didn't feel like playing tag so she let it go, because she was all-merciful and all-knowing.

The undead creatures turned to her, eyes waxy and obedient, awaiting its next order. Zephyr pulled the life back out and let its body sink down to join its friend, both returning home to the earth. The feeling of power faded from her body and she was a human again. She was suddenly, inexplicably, absolutely bone-dead exhausted.

“Point me,” Zephyr said, and she continued on.

At long last, an eerie melody drifted towards her, faint at first and growing louder as she followed it.

“An hour long you’ll have to look, And to recover what we took...”

Zephyr inhaled deeply, braised herself and let out another Depulso.

Soon, she saw a large rock emerge out of the muddy water. It had paintings of merpeople on it; they were carrying spears and chasing what looked like the giant squid.

Her stomach growled. Mhm, Calamari. 

“...your time’s half gone, so tarry not Lest what you seek stays here to rot...”

A cluster of crude stone dwellings stained with algae appeared ominously out of the gloom on all sides, fading into view so abruptly that Zephyr sent an Impedimenta at it. The hex bounced off the rock and ricochet back towards her. Zephyr rolled, narrowly avoiding her own attack.

Merpeople emerged from the holes in the stone village, peering at her, faces twisted into looks of scorn and hatred. Some ventured out to wave their spears at her. A Mermother clutched two smaller Merchildren to its chest, all sobbing as several Mermen darted in front to shield them from Zephyr.

Zephyr smiled back. She would quite happily tear all of them apart as well.

As she swam onwards, the dwellings became more numerous; there were gardens of aquatic plants around some of them, with large sheets of seaweed hung on stone as if they were set out to dry.

Merpeople were emerging on all sides now, watching Zephyr warily. It seemed like the news of her kills had spread already. 

Good. 

A whole crowd of merpeople was floating in front of the houses that lined what looked like a mer-version of a village square.

A choir of Merpeople were singing in the middle, calling the champions toward them, and behind them rose a crude sort of statue; a gigantic Merperson hewn from a boulder.

Five people were bound tightly to the tail of the stone merperson.

Ron was tied between Hermione and Cho Chang. There was also a girl who looked no older than eight, with clouds of silvery hair.

All four of them appeared to be in a very deep sleep. Their heads were lolling onto their shoulders, and fine streams of bubbles kept issuing from their mouths.

And Cas—

Her stupid, handsome, perfect, boyfriend was awake and grinning at her, although he had two spears pointed at his neck and a black eye. He had ropes coiled around his entire body, making him lie useless on the muddy ground like a sack of potatoes.

But he was alive, with the exact same spell she used around his head.

Zephyr would have cried if she wasn't underwater or surrounded by Merpeople who were definitely out for revenge.

Zephyr swam toward Cas, ready to battle every damned fish in the lake if they even dared to come between her and her boyfriend but they stayed still and watched.

Cas tried to speak but all that came out was an explosion of bubbles.

“Shut up,” she told him. “I’m pissed off. I may just leave you here. We were considering it, you know?”

Cas' eyebrows furrowed slightly, a non-verbal protest in his gorgeous eyes and he pouted at her.

The ropes of weed around him were slimy, thick and extremely strong. She searched the floor blindly for something sharp to use, anything with a remotely serrated edge.

One rock caught her attention and she snatched it up, fumbling slightly, hands shaky from adrenaline, and began sawing at the bonds.

She worked on the ones around his chest and arms first, getting his hands free so he could help her cut the cords around his legs. Cas gripped her hand to halt her movements, entwined their fingers and pulled her close to kiss her gently. His face passed through the bubble easily.

Zephyr sighed into the kiss, melting into the boy’s touch. His fingertips were waterlogged and wrinkly but she couldn't care less. It was probably their best kiss.

Cas pulled away after pressing his lips against her forehead and met her eyes with a serious gaze.

I’m so proud of you, he mouthed. I love you.

Cas picked up a rock and started to free himself. Zephyr jumped to help him and soon enough, he was free.

Cas gestured to the other captives and she shrugged, waving his question away. They weren't her problem. Cas was more important to her.

He nodded, looking amused and gripped her waist. Together, with Cas mostly doing the swimming now, they kicked upwards. 

The two of them burst through the surface, their bubbles popping. Zephyr choked in air, her hearing returning to her.

She was gripping onto Cas for dear life as she frailed in the water. She could absolutely drown now.

“How’d you do it?” Cas asked, hugging her to his chest to take her weight. “Hey, don't panic, I won't let you drown.”

“You consented to this?” She screeched into his ear.

Cas flinched. “Ow. That's loud–oh, you're mad, mad. Er, I did, yes, my sweetheart, light of my life, my saviour, did you notice how I’m piling it on thick to sooth the worst of your wrath? They said it would either be me or Dorian, and I decided I’d fare better under the circumstances. It would be cruel to submit the Merpeople to Dorian’s torture.”

“Are you fucking crazy?” Zephyr slammed her hand into his chest. “You were kidnapped from bed and I had no idea where you went! I was so worried!”

Well, it was a slight exaggeration but he didn't need to know that.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Cas said, a hand leaving her waist to grab her upper arm to stop the abuse on his body—

His entire body stiffened. “You're hurt.”

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, no.

“Erm,” she said dumbly. “No?”

“You have cuts on your back.”

“I was caught on a fishing rod?”

“Must have been five fishing rods all positioned so close together that they perfectly resemble the hand structure of a Merman,” Cas said in his unimpressed drawl.

She hung her head, defeated, “yes—”

Cas pulled away and turned to dive back down, probably to wipe out all Merpeople from existence, but she grabbed the back of his shirt.

“Hold on,” Zephyr said desperately. “Cas, I killed him.”

The boy paused, muscles tense with barely-restrained anger. “I beg your pardon?”

“I killed the creatures that attacked me,” she repeated. Well, two out of three, but he didn't need to know that. “I killed them. Oh, lord, Cas, I killed them.”

The weight of the world crashed down on her. She could have stunned them but no, she tore their lives from their bodies without remorse and forced them to become puppets for her bidding. Just like her father would have done. 

Zephyr’s words were choked at the end and Cas whipped around.

He kissed her desperately, teeth smashing against each other messily and his hand snagged in the tangles of her wet hair.

“I’m so fucking proud of you,” he said sternly. “You defended yourself. It is not murder. Do you understand me? You do not need to feel guilty over a worthless bastard’s life.”

“But, Cas, I—”

He cut her off, fiercely shaking her, “we are not our parents’ children.”

Zephyr stared at him, mouth parted in shock. She wasn't her father’s daughter. He wasn't his parents’ son. They didn't have to follow in their footsteps. 

“Let's get out of the water,” she whispered.

Cas glanced down, blinked and then nodded, “yeah, let's go.”

The next champion popped up beside Cas, giving both of them a fright. Cedric gasped in air, helping Cho stay afloat.

Zephyr and Cas made their way back to shore, and she all but collapsed on the grass, thoroughly spent.

Cas settled down beside her, nicking her wand from her and enveloping her in the Heating charm that made the water in her clothes evaporate with a hiss.

Zephyr was quite nice and warm again. Thank Merlin. The crowd was cheering and stamping, but she tuned them out.

Madam Pomfrey came over to check on them, and Cas forced her to sit back up so the healer could close the wound on her back.

Once they were given the all clear, they were handed heated towels and wrapped them around themselves, though it wasn't necessary.

“How’d you stay awake?” She asked her boyfriend, head resting on his shoulder.

“Well, before they gave me a sleeping draught, I asked to go to the bathroom. Casted a really cool spell on myself, it’s basically an internalised alarm clock. Woke me up when I was being tied up. That was the scariest part. There was a fish-man in my face! So I punched him. Had a nice brawl with six other Merpeople, almost won, and then had a spear tucked under my chin. They cheated. If they stayed with fists, I absolutely would have won.”

“You're crazy, you know that, right?” Zephyr muttered.

“Yeah, well, you love me, so who's the crazy one now?”

Madam Pomfrey was fussing over Hermione, Krum, Cedric, and Cho, all of whom were wrapped in thick blankets.

Dumbledore and Ludo Bagman stood beaming at Harry and Ron from the bank as they swam nearer, but Percy, who looked very white and somehow much younger than usual, came splashing out to meet them.

Meanwhile Madame Maxime was trying to restrain Fleur Delacour, who was quite hysterical, fighting tooth and nail to return to the water. 

“Gabrielle! Gabrielle! Is she alive? Is she ’urt?”

“Who’s Gabrielle?” Cas asked.

“Dunno,” she said with a half-hearted shrug. Her muscles were aching.

Dumbledore was crouching at the water’s edge, deep in conversation with what seemed to be the chief merperson, a particularly wild and ferocious-looking female.

“Do you think I’d be arrested for double homicide?”

“Nah, we have immunity.”

He was making the same sort of screechy noises that the merpeople made when they were above water; clearly, Dumbledore could speak Mermish. 

“I’m certain I’m about to be thrown into Azkaban,” she said.

Cas rolled his eyes, “they can try.”

Finally, Dumbledore straightened up, turned to his fellow judges, and said, “A conference before we give the marks, I think.”

The judges went into a huddle.

Ludo Bagman’s magically magnified voice boomed out beside them, making them all jump, and causing the crowd in the stands to go very quiet.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our decision. Merchieftainess Murcus has told us exactly what happened at the bottom of the lake, and we have therefore decided to award marks out of fifty for each of the champions, as follows…”

“Fleur Delacour, though she demonstrated excellent use of the Bubble-Head Charm, was attacked by grindylows as she approached her goal, and failed to retrieve her hostage. We award her twenty-five points.”

Applause from the stands.

“I deserved zero,” said Fleur throatily, shaking her magnificent head.

“I’m the one who's gonna get a zero,” Zephyr said with a sigh. “Murder.”

“Self-defence,” Cas corrected.

“And Necromancy,” she added quietly.

“Holy shit,” Cas stared at her. “You didn't mention that part.”

“Yeah, well, I thought the murder was the worst part.”

“You can do Necromancy? On command?” Cas whispered, looking gleeful as if she had given him a present instead of admitting to doing Dark Magic.

“Heat of the moment.”

“Holy crap. Awesome!”

“Cedric Diggory, who also used the Bubble-Head Charm, was first to return with his hostage, though he returned one minute outside the time limit of an hour.”

Enormous cheers from the Hufflepuffs in the crowd.

“We therefore award him forty-seven points.”

“Weren't you the only one who rescued me within the time limit?” Cas asked.

“Yep,” Zephyr closed her eyes.

“Viktor Krum used an incomplete form of Transfiguration, which was nevertheless effective, and was second to return with his hostage. We award him forty points.”

Karkaroff clapped particularly hard, looking very superior.

“Harry Potter used gillyweed to great effect,” Bagman continued. “He returned last, and well outside the time limit of an hour. However, the Merchieftainess informs us that Mr. Potter was first to reach the hostages, and that the delay in his return was due to his determination to return all hostages to safety, not merely his own.”

“Of course he did,” Cas grumbled. “Fuckin’ golden boy.”

“Most of the judges,” and here, Bagman gave Karkaroff a very nasty look, “feel that this shows moral fibre and merits full marks. However . . . Mr. Potter’s score is forty-five points.”

“Wait, they're going from lowest points to highest,” Cas said suddenly, sitting up and slapping her shoulder. “Zeph’, you're in first place.”

“Or arrested and disqualified.”

“Be positive!”

“And finally, Zephyr Sylvester-Lee,” Bagman said, and his voice wavered slightly. “She is the only contestant to have surfaced within the time limit. Furthermore, she had been attacked by rogue Merpeople, which Merchieftainess Murcus sincerely apologises for. Zephyr showed great resilience when fighting her assailants off and managed to rescue her friend quickly and efficiently.”

She held her breath, waiting for the other shoe to fall, for him to announce to the world that she could wield the darkest magic known to the wizarding kind.

“She used a blend of the bubble-headed charm to breathe, Depulso to move faster through the water and the Point Me charm to navigate. Her ingenuity has left all of us impressed, and therefore, we will award Zephyr fifty points.”

The Slytherins could have brought the entire stand down with their whoops and stomps. Cas squeezed her tightly.

“Well, I secured first place,” she said tiredly, “not that I even care about winning this shit.”

“The third and final task will take place at dusk on the twenty-fourth of June,” continued Bagman. “The champions will be notified of what is coming precisely one month beforehand. Thank you all for your support of the champions.”

 

Chapter 56: 4.15

Notes:

hi :) Sorry guyssss

Okay, i'm 75% done with book 5. But...I'm like 3 months away from doing my A levels so updates will be inconsistent. anyways, here's the next chapters!

Dorian and Matthias were equal parts amused and horrified when she recounted the story for them.

“You killed a Merperson, brought it back to life and used it to kill the other one,” Mattias gaped at her from his bed.

“Crazy, innit?” Dorian grinned wildly. “That's so cool.”

“Oh, and, erm,” she scratched her chin idly. “Before the tournament started, I assaulted Bagman, shoved my wand against his throat and threatened to end his life if he ever tried to lay his hands on you guys ever again.”

“You did what?” Cas screeched. “Oh, lord, the overprotectiveness is so sexy.”

“But the thing that worries me is that the professors now know I can…use Necromancy,” Zephyr said with a groan. “I don't want to go to jail.”

“You have immunity, remember?” Cas nudged her with his elbow, getting the juice of the apple he was eating onto her shirt.

“I don't think my immunity extends to the darkest forms of magic. I used an Unforgivable and Necromancy.”

Dorian shook his head, “I think you're okay. It’s been hours since the task ended and you're still here.”

“Maybe they'll discussing which jail cell in Azkaban is the crappiest so I can suffer more.”

Their reassurances did nothing to help her.

---

Then, like the Tri-Wizarding Tournament wasn't eventful enough, Dorian disappeared a week later.

At first, the three of them weren't too worried. Maybe he had gone off to write to his secret boyfriend or something, but after he missed two entire classes, they began the hunt.

His bed had been made, everything in his possession was still there, nothing out of place. There wasn't any clue to where he was.

“Why would he just up and leave?” Cas asked, practically tearing his hair out. “He wouldn't do that. I think.”

Dumbledore watched the three of them through his tiny glasses, an unreadable expression on his wrinkly face. They had been summoned to his office halfway through Potions, much to Snape’s chagrin.

Matthias was slumped in his seat next to the fire, the glow of the flames highlighting the exhaustion beneath his eyes.

“Let us all calm down and think rationally,” Dumbledore said gently. “When was the last time you saw him?”

“We went to bed and when we woke up, he was gone,” Zephyr said, her head in her hands, the pounding behind her eyebrows getting worse. “Merlin, why can't we have a peaceful week?”

Dumbledore nodded slowly, “did he behave strangely the day before? Was he nervous, withdrawn, cold?”

“Dorian ate an entire turkey and had two plates of rice pudding for dessert,” Cas deadpanned. “He insulted all of our fathers at some point and made a fifth year girl cry.”

“Is that normal for him?”

“Absolutely normal.” Matthias said tiredly.

Dumbledore made a surprised noise that he unsuccessfully attempted to mask as a cough. “Oh, I see. We will seize his belongings to try to find clues on his whereabouts. For now, I would request that you focus on classes. We will engage an Auror to aid in the investigations.”

“You want us to sit back and do absolutely nothing?” Cas repeated.

Zephyr glanced at her boyfriend. Cas looked like he was about to jump through the window.

“Yes,” Dumbledore said firmly.

“Like hell we would,” Cas snapped. 

“Figures,” Matthias muttered. “Merlin, I’m going to retain this year.”

“Now, children, think rationally—”

“We're not fucking children anymore!” Cas’ eyes were wild with rage. “We went to war. We won that shit, too. We’ve been forced to be adults for a long, long time, and you never cared about our age when you sent us off to fight. And now, when part of our family has disappeared to god-knows where, you want us to be kids? That's extremely hypocritical of you.”

“Do you want some calming draughts? I have a bottle somewhere, when I need an extra boost of—” Dumbledore reached for his drawer.

“We’re leaving, and we’re finding him,” Cas grounded out through gritted teeth as he stormed over to the door. “I don't trust you to help.”

“I kept Miss Sylvester’s secret.”

The three of them froze. The world began to spin around her.

“I know what happened in the lake,” Dumbledore continued calmly, as if he didn't absolutely shatter them. “And if the other judges found out, I believe the outcome would be very different.”

Cas’ hands were trembling as he clenched the doorknob in a white-knuckled grip. “Are you blackmailing us?”

“No, dear boy,” Dumbledore said and took off his glasses to clean it on his robes. “I am telling you that you can put your faith in me and Hogwarts. Mister Harlot is still a student and his safety is my responsibility, regardless of your dislike for me.”

Matthias barked out a laugh of disbelief, “you're serious. Do you even hear yourself? That’s golden; a heaping pile of gold shite.”

“Please remain civil. I am still your professor. I understand you must be concerned for your friend’s wellbeing, but it will not help him if you're angry.”

“You get a week,” Cas said quietly, his tone dark. “And you will keep us informed of every step you take. Fail and we will go out to hunt Dorian down ourselves. We have many enemies and time is of the essence.”

“Understood, Mister Blackthorn. Please bring down Mister Harlot’s belongings.”

Cas wrenched the door open and left the room. Zephyr and Matthias trailed after him.

“You're giving up?” Matthais asked Cas who was leaning against the wall, his chest heaving.

“No,” Cas said, glancing up to meet their gazes. His eyes were shadowed and hostile. “I’m going to pull in the favours I’ve collected.”

---

 

They dug through Dorian’s belongings with a lack of regard for his privacy. Most of his stuff were branded robes and books. They emptied his trunk and stared at the dusty bottom.

“Do you think—?” Matthias asked Cas.

The boy tapped his wand on the trunk, “Revelio.”

A plain wooden box appeared out of thin air. It was unassuming, with a simple latch to close it. The three of them exchanged looks.

“This may change our opinion on Dorian,” Cas said slowly. “Be prepared.”

“I’m always expecting the worst around you three,” Matthias snorted and grabbed the box.

The latch slid open easily and the ginger flipped the lid. They crowded around as stacks of parchment were revealed.

Cas reached for the one at the top and unfolded it. 

He cleared his throat, and read out loud, “‘My dearest Dorian, send my well-wishes to your friend. May she win the second task. Congratulations on your achievements in class as well. I grow fonder and prouder of you daily. You have much potential. I hope to polish it into a fine weapon. As usual, your favourite candy has been attached.’”

Cas paused, mouth falling open as his face drained of colour. He looked up at them and finished. “‘Yours faithfully, Lord Voldemort.’”

They were silent for a long minute. Zephyr rubbed her eyes, flabbergasted.

“Read the next one?” Matthias said, voice strangled.

“‘Dearest Dorian, I do not often admit my true feelings to another, but I have grown to miss you terribly. Our weekly meetings have become my source of happiness and my love—’” Cas choked on the word, “‘for you is as merciless as the most turbulent seas. You are consummate and quintessential. I am constantly ruminating your words and you have plauged my mind in the most delicious way possible. I look forward to seeing you soon. Eternally yours, Lord Voldemort.’”

Zephyr hung her head. “Our best friend is courting the Dark Lord himself?”

“No wonder he didn't want to tell us who he was dating,” Cas said with a laugh. “Wow.”

“Isn’t the guy like a hundred years old?” Matthias made a face. “Dorian’s fourteen. That's so messed up.”

“What now?” Zephyr asked Cas.

“I’m going to Owl the Dark Lord and ask him to pretty please, return our friend,” Cas said with a grin. “Holy shit, Dorian is wild.”

Chapter 57: 4.16

Dorian Harlot sat at the dinning table of a small cottage, blinking in disbelief. One moment, he had been taking a stroll through the Forbidden Forest (he read about the benefits of running in the morning in the papers) and the next, he had been Apparated away.

“I must apologise for the sudden change of scenery,” someone said.

Dorian rolled his eyes as he turned to face the familiar voice, “Volds’, why did you kidnap me?”

Voldemort hummed and flipped the pancakes he was making. Oil sizzled in the pan. “I heard rumours that some of my defectors have…came up with a plan to take me down by using you to get to me. I decided to be one step ahead.”

“I have a target on my back?” Dorian asked the noseless man, crossing his arms across his chest. “What? Who? Why?”

“Yes, my dear, you do. I have explained the who and why already.”

“You do realise my friends will tear the world apart to find me, right?” Dorian raised a brow.

“And I’ll rip the universe to shreds to keep you safe.” Voldemort plated the food. “Eat.”

“Well,” Dorian’s face felt weirdly warm. Maybe he had a fever. “Thanks? But, that was still not nice of you. A warning would have been cool.”

The Dark Lord gave him an amused smile and slid the food in front of him, placing a block of butter and maple syrup beside the stack of pancakes. 

Dorian cut into the first one and chewed it plain. It was surprisingly fluffy and tasty. Who knew the most dangerous wizard in the world was a great cook.

“Y’know,” Dorian said, through a mouthful of food, “you should get those ‘Kiss the Chef’ aprons. You should have considered a career in cooking. It’s good.”

“We will not engage in any intimate touches until you are of age,” Voldemort said sternly. “I will woo you till then, and caring words will be the most we will exchange.”

Dorian sighed. “It was a joke.”

“I apologise.” Voldemort sat across from him.

The boy rested his head against his arm, watching the man carefully. “You didn't take away my wand.”

“You are not a prisoner here. You may use magic freely, and you may also leave whenever you wish, although I would advise against that.”

Dorian pursed his lips. “Wouldn't the Ministry be able to track my wand?”

“I have installed very strong boundaries around my safe house. No one but you and I will be able to find the cottage.”

The snake-like man sat with his back straight and head held high, so prim and proper that Dorian had to hide a chuckle. The guy looked ridiculous.

“Can I at least Owl my friends?” Dorian asked.

“You may, but I must place an anti-tracking charm on every letter.”

“Thanks,” Dorian took another bite. “Say, do you have berries?”

---

Dorian received Cas’ letter a couple hours later. It was addressed to Voldemort and had many interesting choices of words, paired with a multitude of question marks.

Voldemort was mildly impressed by his friend’s concern and mostly amused by their threats to end his life if Dorian was hurt.

“Write back to them to quell their worries. You may explain the situation,” Voldemort stood and his bones cracked. The older man winced. “I will be going out for several hours. Do as you please in the meantime.”

Dorian needed no further invitation. He grabbed  parchment and quill and began scribbling away, trying to lay out the events as clearly as he could. He apologised (for the first time ever in his life!) to them for keeping the friendship (relationship?) private, thanked them for their concern and quickly laid out the details. He wrote about the people after him and, eventually, after them as well. 

Dorian told them he was safe, unharmed and free to go back to them whenever he wanted, but he had decided to stay there until Voldemort had a lid on the situation.

Telling them to relax and stay there would definitely make Cas blow a blood vessel, but it was for the best. If they went out to hunt down his enemies, they’d be in over their heads–not even Voldemort himself knew who they were.

Then again, Cas was pretty much in a league of his own.

Dorian would rather be tortured than ever admit it out loud, but Casspian Blackthorn was incredible in every way possible. The boy had the whole world against him and yet, despite the odds, he made a name for himself. Anybody who wasn't living under a rock would know how scary Cas was.

His control over his magic was unheard of; not even Voldemort could come close to the skill Cas possessed. Dorian’s friend could do any spell within two attempts of it. He reacted faster than lightning and was so absurdly confident in his actions that Dorian couldn't help but just follow his plans.

Yet, Cas was caring in his own silent way. He always slid Dorian’s favourite food closer to him, he always gave Matthias the latest news on his favourite Quidditch team and the way Cas treated Zephyr—

Dorian didn't know love like that existed outside the sappiest romance books. Cas was always aware of his surroundings, always a step ahead to open doors and carrying what Zephyr was holding to free her hands. Cas was constantly by her side, giving her his full attention, tuning everyone else out to focus solely on Zephyr.

Dorian knew wholeheartedly that if there ever came a time where Cas would have no choice but to choose between saving Zephyr and saving his other friends, Zephyr would come first. 

Regardless, the boy was their leader; would always be their leader. Dorian trusted Cas with his life, even though they bantered nearly every second of every day and they slung razor-sharp insults at each other.

Dorian loved his friends. He really, truly did. He would sacrifice the world for each of them in a heartbeat. That was why Dorian begged them to stay, to be safe whilst he sorted his end out.

---

 

Voldemort came back late at night, covered in blood that he swore wasn't his own. Dorian managed to coax the story out of the man and was unsurprised to hear that he had gone on a torturing spree to uncover more information.

“There are at least twenty of them, all lower-ranking Death Eaters,” Voldemort said, holding a mug of steaming coffee between his palms. “The problem is that they are so well hidden in my ranks that I do not know who is truly loyal and who has been scheming behind my back.”

“Damn,” Dorian whistled and leaned back in the chair, balancing on the back two legs of it. “So you interrogated them all?”

“I am in the process of it, yes,” Voldemort hummed. “But it will take a while.”

“You should ask my friend to help you,” Dorian said, shrugging. “He's great at that.”

“Help? I do not need help from—”

“Matthias Arnoux.”

Voldemort paused. “Arnoux? The family of Legilimens?”

“That very one, yes,” Dorian grinned. “He would be able to help.”

“I will consider it, thank you.”

Dorian blinked, and then coughed to hide the surprise. “You’re welcome?”

“You should get some rest. It has been a trying day for you.”

He nodded. “I’ll take the bed.”

Voldemort said, “no, I will not allow my guest to sleep on a measly sofa—did you just claim the only bed?”

“Yes,” Dorian stood, stretching. “I want the bed. I never even considered the sofa. You sleep there, then. You were offering the bed anyways, so no harm. Goodnight.”

He headed to the master bedroom, leaving the man gawking behind him.

---

“Can you teach me the Unforgivables?”

Voldemort set down his book and arched a naked brow, “pardon?”

Dorian shrugged. “Why not?”

“Are you sure you wish to go down this path? It is merciless.”

Dorian chewed on his lip. Cas could do them. Zephyr had her Necromancy. Matthias had his mind-thing. What did he have, besides all the wealth in the world? He wanted to be on the same tier as his friends, wanted to fight as well as they did.

“Yes,” Dorian said firmly. “Please.”

Voldemort got to his feet with a heavy sigh. “Shall we?”

Turns out, Dorian had an affinity for the Dark Arts. It took two days, just two, to master all three of the curses.

---

 

“I do not understand the need to involve children!” Dorian snarled at Voldemort who sat on his throne of bones in the Malfoy Manner.

They were alone, the Death Eater meeting ending shortly before. Dorian had attended all of them, just to have something to do. He saw the flaws in their thinking and like hell was he going to sit back and do nothing about it.

“All my followers were children once,” Voldemort pointed out. “What difference does age make? The younger they come to me, the more loyal they will be.”

Dorian’s wand was out in a flash and he sent a Stinging Hex straight at the man, who battered it away with a flick of his finger. Voldemort didn't even blink.

“They can't choose their fate so early!” Dorian snapped, crossing his arms as his jaw worked out the tension thrumming through his veins. “They're kids.”

“You are one as well. Did that old git Dumbledore ever care?”

Dorian raised a brow and asked sweetly, “aren't you above his ways? He needs to manipulate children to get what he wants. Are you the same?”

He had always been good at finding other’s weaknesses and to Voldemort’s he took a nice chisel and began carving away at his insecurities.

“Don't you dare compare me to him!” Voldemort slammed a fist down on his chair. “I am better in every way!”

“You sound like a child,” Dorian pointed out drly. “And if you're that much better, why are you resorting to the same methods as he is? Are you not convincing enough that you need to recruit weak-minded children?”

“You—”

Dorian cut the man off, “prove it to me. Prove that you are better. Prove you can convince a mass of adults that are already set in their ways, instead of impressionable children. Isn't that just plain lazy? Are you too scared to take the hard path?”

Dorian expected to die on the spot. He was ready to, but Voldemort’s red eyes flashed with rage and he schooled his expression into neutrality.

“I accept.”

---

All the Death Eaters under the age of eighteen were Obliviated and did not appear at any more meetings.

Dorian set about to tackle the next issue. That was the only way he could help Cas and his friends at the moment.

“Hey, Volds’?”

The man looked away from the pasta on the stove. “Yes, my dear?”

“Do you hate Asians? Zephyr’s Chinese. Do you hate her?”

“Excuse me?” Voldemort spluttered.

“And African Americans?”

“Why would I hate someone based on race?” The man scoffed. “I am above those silly Muggle disagreements.”

“Do you like Hitler?” Dorian continued on bluntly. “Wasn't that during your time?”

“Of course I do not. He was an idiotic man,” Voldemort said sharply. “Where is this going?”

“Okay, so race doesn't matter to you.”

“What matters is power and those who are too weak to seek it.”

Dorian beamed. “Great! You're a half-blood, correct?”

Voldemort’s gaze turned guarded. “Spit it out.”

“Be patient,” Dorian rolled his eyes. “And answer the question.”

“Yes, I am.”

“All the most powerful Wizards of this age are half-bloods. You, Dumbledore,” Dorian propped his head onto his hands. “So why do you hate Muggles?”

“They are vile creatures.”

“Are they?” Dorian was winging it, but he had a great basis to go off on; Missus Sylvester, who had taken their rowdy band of friends in and cared for them like her own. 

Dorian hadn't been the biggest fans of Muggles, due to his parents conditioning, but being friends with Zephyr made his outlook on many things do a hundred-eighty switch. If he could change his ways, so could Voldemort. No one was that far from redemption.

Well, besides Lockhart. Dorian would have burnt that bastard alive if Cas hadn't beaten him to it.

“They will rain war on us if they ever find out magic exists,” Voldemort turned the stove off. “Their bombs and guns outmatch our wands and spells. What can we do against Nuclear Warheads?”

“You completely disregard the good of humanity. What about humans landing on the moon? I’ll go at an angle that you’d understand–what about the science humans discovered? The mathematical equations behind gravity, space, time, what about Physics as a whole? All those forces impact us just as much as it impacts them,” Dorian said, tilting his head.

“Take Depulso, for example,” he watched the Dark Lord add fresh shrimp into Truffle paste. “We can't Depulso entire buildings, trains, big objects because their gravitational pull is stronger than our magic. We can't use Leviosa on ourselves because the magic and pressure counters each other. But, what if we apply Muggle logic to our magic?”

Voldemort’s face was alight with the flickering flames of the stove but his body had relaxed as Dorian spoke—he was giving Dorian a chance to change his mind. 

He pushed on.

“Cas does that. He's great at Mathematics and Physics. That is why he’s so reputable in his casting–he uses a blend of Muggle science with Wizarding Magic. If you watch him fight, like really observe, you will notice how Cas only uses the same few spells, over and over, because he lets gravity do the rest for him. When someone’s charging at him, he’d go around to Depulso them. An object in motion will stay in motion. Cas deals the most damage by applying science to his technique.”

“It's a genius way of not straining your magic,” Dorian said. “And it was the Muggles who discovered it. We are frightened of them, and they aren't frightened of us. There are Tarot readers and Christians, and a whole slurry of other religions who believe in things like turning water into wine and parting the sea. They aren't scared of magic. They won't bomb us. The few that may fear us are bound by laws and morals.”

“What about the Salem Witch Trials?" Voldemort countered. "What about the wars that decimated the planet? Muggles are greedy for power. They will do everything to get more. They will dissect us to achieve that.”

“Yes,” Dorian said amicably, “so I’ll dismantle each argument one by one. “Firstly, the Salem Witch Trials occurred under guise of the in fear of the Devil. It was a long time ago, when women who could read were considered evil. It was never about magic, but about the control over women and their rights. In our modern society, it’d never occur like that. They still want to rip the rights away from women, yes, but no one will even mention magic in this scenario. There wasn't a fear of magic at all. Secondly, and lord, I am thirsty, hold on—”

He drained his cup of tea and gave himself a second to breathe. Voldemort had finished cooking and was sliding the noodles into bowls.

“Right, what was your second point?”

“Wars.”

“Okay, now this one is harder to argue against because there is a great logic behind your reasoning. I get it. Humans create terrible wars for dumb reasons like more resources and land. However, I’ll point out that Humans, like Wizards, aren't perfect. They can make mistakes. But they can also learn from it. The laws that were created after the second world war helped shape the world into a better place, and justice is being fought for every day. The good people outweigh the bad, nowadays. Especially the youth of today. I’m certain they wouldn't wage a war against us just for, what, using magic? They’d be fascinated. Have you seen the movies the Muggles created? They're all about space and magic and teleportation. They love this stuff. They aren't scared of us.”

“You say you're above racial discrimination, but race and blood are the same. Neither can be chosen. The evil Muggles you are so scared of thinks exactly the way you do. Our pure-blood nonsense is the same as their White Supremacy agenda. Surely you're above that?”

“I am not a racist,” Voldemort said firmly.

“But have you ever compared racism to your own ideologies? Hitler did the same thing. Pure-blooded Aryan is the same thing as our Pure-Blood superiority.”

Voldemort went silent and handed Dorian his food. The man sat down, polished off his fork against a piece of tissue and twirled the spaghetti.

The younger boy ate quietly, giving the man time to think. 

Finally, when Doeian was almost finished with his meal, Voldemort spoke up, “you are correct, as always, my dear.”

Another battle won. Dorian grinned.

---

As the weeks flew by, Dorian realised something–Voldemort wasn't all that bad. In fact, he was open to new ideas. The reason why he hadn't changed yet was because all his followers were either: A) brainwashed, or B) too scared to voice out.

Dorian was neither. He wasn't scared of getting struck down because he had a safety net. Well, two, if he counted in the fact that the Dark Lord had a strange obsession over him.

Voldemort was wary of Casspian. The man was smart enough to know that Cas would and could destroy his ranks if even a hair on Dorian’s head was misplaced. 

Also, Dorian just wasn't terrified of the Dark Lord. How could he be? The guy cooked him meals daily, sat with him to discuss politics and dished out compliments like it was a buffet. Perhaps it was manipulation, perhaps it wasn't, but Dorian couldn't hate Voldemort.

Chapter 58: 4.17

They weren't exactly thrilled when they heard from Dorian. Cas wanted to fight against his orders, but they all knew Dorian had a point. What good could come from battling unknown foes? 

They returned to normal life, with an empty spot next to Matthias at dinner, and quieter days.

At least Dorian was safe. That was the good part. He wrote back daily, telling them about how Voldemort was great at cooking (‘better than those Hogwarts house elves, to be completely honest’), how the older Wizard took good care of him, and gave him the freedom of doing whatever he wished.

He explained how there were defectors in Voldemort’s circle, how he was trying to figure out who they were, how every lead they had was a dead end.

In turn, they kept him up to date with school. Cas penned down notes for all their classes and included them in the letters.

They pretended to be interested in whatever updates Dumbledore had for them, which was basically none paired with appeasing ‘ongoing effort’.

During the day, the three of them behaved the same as they always did, or tried to, when an essential member of their group was missing. Rumours circulated like wildfire through the school, ranging from Dorian running away to the three of them discovering Dorian had betrayed them and they killed him.

Matthias did his best to shut down the gossip, using his words as brutally as his fists. Zephyr knew the ginger boy had taken the disappearance the worst. Since Cas and Zephyr paired up all the time, Dorian was the one who accompanied Matthias. Now, back to being a trio, Zephyr realised just how often they ignored the boy.

Zephyr did her best to make up for the neglect, but it was obvious that Matthias wasn't doing good. His usual laid-back personality had been replaced by a snarling, injured animal wanting to take down anyone who came close.

Barty Crouch was declared missing, just like Dorian had been, and Madam Maxime was the culprit. The moment Dumbledore turned those twinkling eyes at the three of them, they noped out and ran with their tails between their legs.

They already had too much on their plate. However, it didn't stop them from keeping in the loop with the news. Dorian had been the gossip-monger of the group, so it was a bit of a struggle when they attempted to find out more.

Cas had claimed he had a vague interest in the situation, but not enough to actually get involved. Thankfully, Theo and Blaise knew just about everything and they found out that Barty was a Death Eater who had Crucio’d Neville’s parents.

“What?” Cas had said sarcastically when Blaise told them. “That's crazy.”

Cas had then written a letter to Dorian. Dorian had replied that he would get the situation under control. 

Theo had also told them something strange–Malfoy and the other children of Death Eater Loyalist families had…forgotten about Voldemort overnight. Suddenly, Draco stopped using his usual slurs and was nicer than normal to Muggle-borns. 

Owling Dorian once more, they had discovered that he was deconstructing the Death Eaters from the inside out. 

It turned into March and none of them had seen Dorian yet. Matthias swore up and down that Voldemort was faking his letters, but Cas shut that down after pointing out how Voldemort wouldn't have cut the children loose on his own free-will.

---

April was spent drunk in the Forbidden Forest.

Dorian went out, and they finally, finally, met him again. He looked great, well-nourished and he wore his usual smirk.

“Hey, Bloodtraitors,” he greeted as he sat down, a black jacket over his white polo tee. “Missed me?”

Zephyr tackled him in a hug. They crashed to the ground in a tangle of limbs and laughter. Cas and Matthias piled on top.

“Voldy is really feeding ya’,” Cas said, voice sounding choked. “Look at you! You have so much muscle now!”

It was true. Within the three months he had been gone, he had grown into an adult. Gone were all his baby-ish features, which weren't much to begin with. Dorian was taller and stronger, and his eyes held more self-confidence than ever.

“He’s really a good cook,” Dorian said, and shoved them off him. “And I can't breathe, dumbasses.”

Matthias sat up, blowing his hair from his face, “we thought Voldemort had faked the letters from you.”

“He treats me well,” Dorian shrugged, handing them a beer each. “He listens to my opinions. Respects them.”

“Did you two, you know,” Cas asked, “do anything that Jesus wouldn't approve of?”

Matthias snickered as he popped the cap off his drink. It fizzled over and he scrambled to hold it over the grass to avoid getting beer all over himself.

Dorian raised a brow. “No. We're not like that yet. The guy doesn't even touch me.”

“You sure? He was giving major Lockhart vibes,” Zephyr said, grinning.

The three boys barely masked their shock at her joke. It was probably the first time she had talked about Lockhart willingly. But Zephyr–she was no longer haunted by him. What he had done was terrible, yes, but it didn't keep her awake at night any longer. After she had gained full control over her Necromancy, Lockhart didn't seem so scary anymore. 

She was finally free and by Merlin, it was amazing.

“So, what's the latest gossip?” Dorian asked, leaning back on his arms to stare up at the sky.

Matthias beamed and began recounting every detail.

---

May hit; Cas had a brawl with Dorian’s brother over Dorian’s disappearance. He accused them of killing Dorian, which was so far-fetched that Cas had started laughing in Hill’s face. That only pissed the guy off more and he swung first. Cas ended the fight easily and brutally. Both of them received a month’s worth of detention.

They found out about the next task. Zephyr had to navigate a maze to retrieve a prized object. There were obstacles and many other challenges within the maze itself. 

All Zephyr had to do was the Point Me charm. The task would be simple.

The Twenty-Fourth of June arrived. Dorian visited her once more the night before and wished her luck. He told her to be extra careful, that Voldemort had a suspicion that his ex-followers would turn up. 

“Why?” Cas asked, his eyes hard. “What's their plan?”

“Getting to me isn't working, so getting to you, to get to me, to get to Voldemort seemed to be the next plan of action,” Dorian said and moved his finger in an arch at each ‘get’. “Just watch out, yeah? I’ll be hidden in the crowd, somewhere no one can see me. I’ll jump in if something goes wrong.”

Zephyr nodded, swallowing down her terror. Suddenly, she didn't feel all that confident.

That night, the three of them spent it preparing for war. Wands were polished, stretches were performed and plans were drawn. She would send up a flare to alert the rest of them if she was in deep trouble, and they would rush in, competition be damned. Theo and Blaise were briefed as well and they promised to have her back.

“You guys should be prepping for your exams,” Zephyr chidded as they sat down at breakfast. “You two haven't touched any textbooks since Dorian went missing.”

There was a small uproar over the newest article in the Daily Prophet, which they ignored.

“Well,” Cas said with a shrug, “I’ll score the highest anyways.”

“I’m going to fail no matter how hard I study,” Matthias agreed. “The whole Dorian fiasco is more important than the silly tests. Plus, it's the History Of Magic exam today–I’m screwed in every scenario.”

“Do you think Dorian will be held back?” Zephyr asked, chewing her sandwich thoughtfully. “If he is ever coming back to school.”

“He’ll be back by next year, definitely,” Cas promised. “And I’m sure Dorian will figure it all out. At least you both don't need to take any exams.”

Zephyr, in a stroke of luck, had been excused from taking the end-of-term tests as a Triwizard champion. She spent the time sitting at the back of the class, begged the Professors for a copy of the test just for ‘practice’ and copied the questions down for Dorian’s consumption.

“Four O’clock,” Cas said suddenly.

Matthias frowned. “It’s like nine.”

“No, you idiot—”

“Sylvester, the champions are congregating in the chamber off the Hall after breakfast,” Snape said as he approached.

“Isn't the task at night?” Zephyr asked, exchanging worried glances with Cas. 

She thought she would have some more time with her friends before she headed off.

“Obviously,” he said in his usual nasally drawl. “The champions’ families are invited to watch the final task. This is simply a chance for you to greet them.”

Zephyr blinked. “What?”

“Say sike,” Cas straightened. “Say it, right now.”

That was a new bit of information. For a blissful, fleeting moment, she was filled with joy that her mother could finally witness the most important part of her life, be there to cheer Zephyr on.

She beamed, looking around and was met with her friends’ pale and horrified faces.

Dorian’s warning rang through her head.

Oh.

Oh.

It sank in.

Her world trembles on its axis, flipped over and spontaneously combusted.

“My mum’s here?” Zephyr whispered, hands going shaky as she stood.

Her blood went cold, as if ice was running through her veins instead. Her surroundings blurred around the edges.

Matthias cursed softly.

“I do not know, nor do I care to find out,” Snape said and walked away.

Zephyr grabbed Cas’ shoulder, panic shooting through her, “my mum’s here! No, no, no! I can't let her see what happens tonight. If we get attacked, she can't get hurt! Cas!”

The boy clutched her arms to stop her from shaking him like a ragdoll. “Yes, Firefly, I hear you. I won’t let anything happen to her. Cross my heart.”

“I—” Zephyr shook her head. “No!”

Her lungs seemed to have collapsed in her chest. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't even begin to fathom the millions of ways that everything could go wrong. Her mother could get caught in the crossfire; her Muggle mother, who cried when she saw kittens and didn't have the heart to kill a roach. 

Zephyr was aware, in a detached, out-of-body experience way, that she was hyperventilating.

“Baby,” Cas swung his legs off the chair and pulled her into a hug. “Breathe. She’ll be okay, you’ll be okay. I’ll watch out for both of you. Your mother means to me as much as you do. I promise she’ll be okay.”

“She’ll see me get hurt,” Zephyr whispered. “I don't want her to see that.”

“You won't get hurt,” Cas said calmly, using his thumb to lift her chin. Brown met green; fearful met assured. “She won't get hurt. I’ll be there. Matthias will be there. Dorian will be there. Theo and Blaise will be there. We are all ready to drop everything and leap into the maze. We have made our plans, and made backup plans, and backup plans for the backup plans. We ran through every scenario, found solutions for that. We will not be caught off-guard, unless a T-rex appears or something crazy like that.”

“Trust us. Put your faith in us once more,” Cas pressed his lips to her forehead and Zephyr’s eyes slid close, a shudder running through her body. “We have your back and we will do everything to keep you two safe.”

He pulled away slowly and kissed her gently, warm palms squeezing her upper arms. “Go, Zeph’, and I’ll see you soon.”

She sniffled, feeling as if she was about to collapse, “okay.”

Matthias hugged her, wishing her luck, as she was off, forcing herself to put one foot in front of the other.

Fleur Delacour got up from the Ravenclaw table and joined Cedric as he crossed to the side chamber and entered. Krum slouched off to join them shortly afterward.

Zephyr reached the door and a silly part of her hoped that her mother wouldn't be behind it. She was a Muggle—

Her prayers never, ever, went answered.

Her mother had more grey hair since the last time she had seen her. Her face was thinner, more tired yet her face brightened when Zephyr stepped in. She had been Obliviated after the war by the Aurors. It had been for the best. Seeing her now, so carefree and unknowing about the horrors that she had witnessed caused Zephyr’s heart to stutter.

“Mum,” she whispered and her mother’s arms were around her.

“Firefly,” her mother pressed a kiss to her head. “God, you're so thin. You said you were eating well the last time you wrote to me.”

“I am—” Zephyr breathed in her mother’s floral scent. “I am. I’ve just been under some pressure, you know? With the tasks and everything.”

“My big girl,” her mother cooed. “I’m so proud of you for winning the past two tasks. I just wish I was there to see them.”

Zephyr’s close death experience with the dragon ran through her head.

“Me too, mum,” she lied. “Who, er, told you to come today?”

Her mother pulled away, eyes sparkling and teased, “you sound like you wish I wasn't here.”

“Oh, no,” Zephyr dragged out the ‘no’. “I’m glad you could make it. I’m just, y’know, wondering.”

“Your lovely headmaster himself invited me,” her mother said with a grin. “Mister Dumbledore may have a strange name but he's a lovely fellow. I wish your father could see you now.”

‘The lovely fellow’ may end up dead in a ditch the moment the tournament ends. Zephyr hid a scowl.

“Yeah, I wish dad was here too,” Zephyr lied.

She didn't remember the war and being kidnapped. Her mother was still in love with the man. Zephyr was going to pretend to as well, if it made her mum feel better.

“At first, I was worried because I’m not exactly part of this world,” her mother said and pushed Zephyr’s hair behind her ears, smiling softly. “But Mister Dumbledore said they’d love me here.”

Lake. She was going to push Dumbledore into the lake.

“How are your friends, darling?” Her mother asked. “Cas, Matthias and Dorian? You haven't mentioned them much in your letters.”

Cas was her boyfriend now, Matthias was a couple bad choices away from becoming a villain and Dorian had been kidnapped and was possibly having sex with an evil wizard more than four times his age.

“They're good,” Zephyr said instead. “They're doing great.”

Her eyes prickled with the tell-tale signs of tears and she blinked them back rapidly. When she was younger, before she started Hogwarts, Zephyr never kept secrets from her mother, besides the bullying.

It was as if there was a huge rift between them now, a chasm that stretched forever, separating Zephyr from her mother.

She had made so many wrong choices, went down a dark path, all of which she could never speak to her mother about. Her mom would be so disappointed in her.

She wished she could still tell her mother everything, from Lockhart to the war to her father; everything, but she couldn't.

Zephyr wanted to be ten again, and in a dark house, waiting for her mother to come home from work. She wanted to be the kid that was tucked into bed, that listened to her mother read her to sleep.

How had they drifted so far apart? What happened?

When did Zephyr stop confiding in her mother?

She missed her mum when she was still Zephyr’s mummy. She wanted to nash her teeth and scream and beg for her childhood to come back but she knew, deep down, that it was long gone and dead, and nothing will ever be the same again.

“Why don't you show me around the castle? It's beautiful!”

Zephyr packed away her thoughts and shoved them far away. She was going to be a good daughter and give her mother a good memory of her before she revealed her true nature. 

She could be her mother’s daughter one last time.

“Of course, mum,” Zephyr said softly. “Come on.”

---

Her mother loved Hogwarts. 

“It beats my old school, that's for sure,” her mother whistled as she waved to the paintings. They waved back. “Hogwarts is so lovely. I can see why you prefer to spend the holidays here.”

She showed her the Astronomy Wing, the ex-Quidditch pitch that had been converted into the maze, the Library, the entrance to the Slytherin dorms.

Zephyr gave her a sad smile as the sun began to set. “I missed you, mummy.”

Her mum startled, glancing over in shock as they walked to the lake, “you haven't called me that since you were twelve!”

“Slipped out,” Zephyr fibbed.

Her mother nodded, chuckling as she wrapped an arm around her shoulders to pull their bodies together.

Zephyr sank into her side, relishing the warmth and softness of her mum for the last time. Their time was up. Her two friends were seated in the shade of a tree, lobbing apples at each other.

“There they are,” she said softly. “Cas and Matthias. Dorian’s preoccupied with something important.”

“I hope he's okay,” her mother said, eyes wide with concern.

“I hope so too,” she replied truthfully, closing her eyes for a brief second.

“Hey, Miss Sylvester!” Cas called out, jumping to his feet.

Her mother reached to pull her boyfriend into a hug, “Casspian! You're so tall now! How have you been?”

“Great,” Cas said, squeezing back.

He was already taller than her mum by several inches. 

Matthias shook her mother’s hand shyly as well.

“My lovely boys,” her mother beamed. “I wish Dorian was here.”

Cas and Matthias exchanged looks, then glancing around to check if the field was clear (it was), Cas let out a high-pitched whistle.

A dark figure jumped down from the tree, hiding in there like some sort of ninja. The shadow rolled as it hit the ground, came up in a crouch and pulled its hood off, revealing slicked-back blond hair.

“Dorian?” Zephyr gasped.

“Dorian!” Her mother exclaimed.

“Dorian,” Dorian confirmed, with an easy-going grin. “You look as beautiful as the day we met, Miss Sylvester. How are you?”

Her mother bustled over, pinching Dorian’s cheeks, “you're so tall and handsome. All you boys have turned into adults! Time passed so fast. Why were you in a tree?”

“Haven't Zephyr told you?” Cas piped up, a serious expression on his face. “Dorian is into landscaping now.”

“Excuse me?” Dorian asked, shooting Cas a heavy glare, then corrected himself. “Oh, yeah, I love plants and trees and chopping and soil.”

Matthias choked back his laughter.

“How were the exams?” Her mother asked.

“Cas says he’ll get full marks,” Matthias began with a scowl, “I’m failing everything but Potions and Zeph’s exempted. Oh—and Dorian’s doing good, too.”

“Dorian’s doing okay,” Cas said mischievously.

Dorian elbowed him, “great.”

“Not bad but not good,” Zephyr settled.

“Hey!” Dorian protested. “That basically means ‘okay’.”

“I feel like I’m missing something, but I’ll let you kids keep your secrets,” her mother said. “It's healthy.”

The four of them exchanged raised eyebrows.

“It's almost time for dinner, isn't it?” Her mother asked. “My watch stopped working once I stepped onto the school grounds.”

“Yeah, electronics don't work here,” Zephyr said, linking her arm through her mum’s. “Magic messes with technology. You're right, though. Come on, dinner awaits.”

Dorian sighed wistfully. “Go on ahead, guys.”

“Aren't you coming?” Her mother asked, surprise colouring her features.

“I have something to do. I’m part of the, er—”

“Landscaping council for the maze,” Cas supplied helpfully.

Dorian rolled his eyes, “yes, that. I need to, erm, landscape a bit more, to prepare for the games.”

“Right! Before I forget,” her mother fumbled open her handbag and pulled out four cups of—

“Cup Noodles!” Matthias gasped, his eyes shining as he accepted the styrofoam containers. “Tom Yum flavour, too! That's amazing, thank you!”

“Figured you missed these, even though these aren't nutritionally healthy,” her mother smiled warmly at them.

Dorian embraced her mother and winked at Zephyr before he headed off into the night.

“I’m glad he has a hobby,” her mother said brightly.

Cas snorted. “We do, too. Come on, Miss Sylvester, let me show you the Pies of Hogwarts.”

 

Chapter 59: 4.18

Dinner was a quiet affair, Cas easily taking over the conversation. Zephyr didn't feel particularly talkative, dread settling into her bones. She was gripping Cas’ hand beneath the table, unable to stomach much food.

Matthias seemed just as troubled as her, pushing around the peas on his plate. Theodore and Blaise sat with them, mercifully silent and didn't reveal anything to her mother (who loved them and invited them over for the holidays).

As the enchanted ceiling overhead began to fade from blue to a dusky purple, Dumbledore rose to his feet at the staff table, and silence fell. Zephyr’s heart leapt into her throat.

“Ladies and gentlemen, in five minutes’ time, I will be asking you to make your way down to the Quidditch field for the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament. Will the champions please follow Mr. Bagman down to the stadium now.”

She pecked Cas on the cheek, ignoring her mother’s wide eyes at the action, and said her goodbyes.

“Mum,” she whispered. “I love you, and I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Her mum asked, confused.

“Just…” she struggled to find the words. “Just, I don't know.”

“We’re there, okay, Firefly?” Cas told her softly. “We have your back. Go kick some ass, baby.”

Theo, Blaise and Matthias chorused their well wishes and she was off, glancing back one final time at her mother.

She joined the rest of the Champions, whose faces were all in various shades of green, and they walked onto the Quidditch field, which was now completely unrecognisable.

A twenty-foot-high hedge ran all the way around the edge of it. There was a gap right in front of them: the entrance to the vast maze. The passage beyond it looked dark and creepy.

Five minutes later, the stands had begun to fill; the air was full of excited voices and the rumbling of feet as the hundreds of students filed into their seats.

The sky was a deep, clear blue now, and the first stars were starting to appear.

Hagrid, Professor Moody, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Flitwick came walking into the stadium and approached Bagman and the champions. They were wearing large, red, luminous stars on their hats, all except Hagrid, who had his on the back of his moleskin vest.

“We are going to be patrolling the outside of the maze,” said Professor McGonagall to the champions. “If you get into difficulty, and wish to be rescued, send red sparks into the air, and one of us will come and get you, do you understand?”

They nodded.

She was not ready. 

“Off you go, then!” said Bagman brightly to the four patrollers.

The four adults walked away in different directions, to station themselves around the maze. 

Bagman now pointed his wand at his throat, muttered, “Sonorus,” and his magically magnified voice echoed into the stands.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin! Let me remind you how the points currently stand! In first place is Zephyr Sylvester-Lee, with ninety-three points. Tied in second place, with eighty-five points each–Mr. Cedric Diggory and Mr. Harry Potter, both of Hogwarts School!”

The cheers and applause sent birds from the Forbidden Forest fluttering into the darkening sky. “In third place, with eighty points–Mr. Viktor Krum, of Durmstrang Institute!” More applause. “And in fourth place–Miss Fleur Delacour, of Beauxbatons Academy!”

“So, on my whistle, Miss Sylvester,” Bagman said and she jolted. “One, two—feeee!”

Zephyr entered the maze. The looming hedges casted dark shadows across the ground, and, whether because they were so tall and thick or because they had been enchanted, the sound of the surrounding crowd was silenced the moment they entered the maze.

“Dorian did a good job landscaping,” Zephyr muttered, unable to help herself. “Lumos. Point-Me.”

She jogged down the grassy path and came to a cross-road about forty metres in. Her wand pointed left, so she headed there.

Bagman’s whistle went off for the second time. Harry and Cedric entered the maze.

Zephyr took several more turns, batting away mosquitoes and other bugs that flew at her face. The silence was cut through by the buzzing of wings and the crunch of weeds beneath her feet.

Merlin, it was creepy and cold. Zephyr did a quick Heating charm to cut back the edges of the night, and paused to take a breather.

She knew she had to head Northwest, so she took a left to circle around to the nearest right, and paused as she spotted something crawling towards her.

It was a huge, menacing Blast-Ended Skrewt, so big it nearly looked like a dragon. Its armoured skin shone in the light of her wand. It was the biggest she had ever seen, which only meant one thing.

“Eragon?” She asked, hope filling her.

It let out a mini explosion that could only be described as excitement and pottered over to her, nuzzling up against her leg. 

She patted its side awkwardly, “nice to see you too. Are you going to keep me company?”

It exploded happily and fell into step with her.

It felt as if Cas had sent a part of himself along. Zephyr managed to smile. 

The brief joy faded the moment she turned the corner and nearly crashed headfirst into Lockhart. The world seemed to tunnel around her, until it was just Zephyr and the monster.

He beamed at her, his pearly whites gleaming, stepping forward with his arms held out like he was about to embrace her.

Zephyr blinked and raised her wand. “Avad—”

Then, she shook her head. It wasn't possible that Lockhart was here and burn-free.

“Riddikulus,” she said instead, deciding that using the killing curse was a bit extreme.

The boggart combusted into wisps of white smoke and was gone. Eragon puffed out fire to congratulate her.

“Thanks, buddy,” she whispered and stepped forward. 

Three lefts, two rights, one straight led her into a mess of cobwebs, so thick that Zephyr couldn't see out the other side.

“Ew,” she raised her wand.

Her Skrewt paused, turned around and farted out flames that disintegrated the webs in an instant.

“I feel like this is considered cheating,” she told Eragon who puffed out his chest, proud of himself. “But I appreciate it.”

A quiet clicking noise above her made her whip around. A spider, as big as lion, clung onto the mae walls, poised to ambush her, red eyes glowing.

Her pet crouched, ready to attack but Zephyr stepped away, and casted, “Incendio!”

The intensity of the heat seared her eyebrows as the spell slammed home into the spider’s hairy chest. It let out an ear-piercing screech and tumbled off its perch, convulsing on the ground as it was consumed by fire.

Zephyr heaved for breath, heart pounding in her chest. “Christ. That's terrifying.”

Eragon slid over to the spider, seemed to sniff it, and began to consume the creature.

“Okay, that's gross,” she grimaced and stepped around him. “I’m going to leave you to it.”

Eragon paid her no mind, too focused on snacking on the arachnid.

Zephyr wiped her sweaty palm on her shirt and headed down the corridor, alone now.

It felt like eternity had passed whilst she walked. Part of her expected that she was the last one in the maze, that she was hopelessly lost, yet her Point Me charm held steady.

Then, as Zephyr ran down a long, straight path, she saw movement once again, and  an extraordinary creature appeared out of the gloom.

It was a sphinx. It had the body of an over-large lion: great clawed paws and a long yellowish tail ending in a brown tuft. Its head, however, was that of a woman.

She had no clue if she had to kill the thing.

The monster turned her long, almond-shaped eyes upon Zephyr as she approached warily. She was not crouching as if to spring, but pacing from side to side of the path, blocking his progress. Then she spoke, in a deep, hoarse voice.

“You are very near your goal. The quickest way is past me.”

“Oh. That's good. What's the catch?”

“You must answer my riddle. Answer on your first guess, I let you pass. Answer wrongly, I attack. Remain silent, I will let you walk away from me unscathed.”

She stared at the creature. Zephyr’s brain wasn't in tip-top shape at the moment.

“I’ll give it a go?” Zephyr said slowly.

The sphinx sat down upon her hind legs, in the very middle of the path, and recited:

“First think of the person who lives in disguise,

Who deals in secrets and tells naught but lies.

Next, tell me what’s always the last thing to mend,

The middle of middle and end of the end?

And finally give me the sound often heard.

During the search for a hard-to-find word.

Now string them together, and answer me this,

Which creature would you be unwilling to kiss?”

Zephyr pressed her lips together, turned around and walked back down the path. Yep, no way she could solve that shit. She didn't even want to try.

She turned in the fork in the road, the other one that she didn't take previously, and the maze curved slightly, opening up into three paths.

“Enie, miney-mo,” she hummed, twirling her wand idly between her fingers. “Middle it is.”

Middle was, in fact, the wrong choice. Another Boggart loomed in front of her, in the shape of her father this time. He seemed equally as shocked to see her, his wand-hand faltering.

“Gods, how many Boggarts are they hoarding?” Zephyr grumbled. “Riddikulus.”

The spell bounced off the man. Zephyr’s mouth dropped open.

“Firefly,” her father said, stepping forward. “It's me.”

“What the fuck?” She said slowly. “What?”

“I came for you,” he said, face pale but earnest. “And your mother. We can be a family again! We had our misunderstandings, but I’m sure we can set it all behind us—”

“Expecto Patronum!” Zephyr screamed, directing the spell high above her head.

In a flash of brilliant white light, her firefly soared up, higher than the maze walls, far into the night sky.

“What was that for?” Her father stepped back, the inviting expression on his face dissolving. 

“For Cas,” she told him with a smile, even though she was shaking. “I pressed my panic button.”

Her father growled, lunging at her, hands outstretched. Zephyr danced away, twisting around to send a Stinging hex at him.

He shielded and returned a spell of his own silently, which she side-stepped. Okay, two can play that game.

Zephyr’s skills had always been good, but she had lacked confidence in her casting abilities. After the fight in the lake, all uncertainty had been dispelled, and she didn't hesitate as she sent a volley of spells, one after the other at her dad.

She came alive, truly alive, at the moment. Their breaths were heavy from exertion but she was moving faster and faster with every hex she threw. 

All she needed to do was buy herself time for Cas to reach—

“Crucio!” Her father cried.

And every cell in her body was set alight as she fell to the ground. Zephyr was screaming, she knew that, but her body seemed so far away; not real. The pain was so bad it couldn't be real.

Rough hands grabbed her, and then the world around them contorted and she was sucked in.

 

Chapter 60: 4.19

Notes:

omggg almost at the end of book 4!!

Zephyr landed in the dirt, spitting soil from her mouth. The Cruciatus curse had worn off but her body protested as she pushed herself up. Her father panted beside her.

They had left the Hogwarts grounds completely; they had obviously traveled miles — perhaps hundreds of miles — for even the mountains surrounding the castle were gone.

They were standing instead in a dark and overgrown graveyard; the black outline of a small church was visible beyond a large yew tree to their right. A hill rose above them to their left. Zephyr could just make out the outline of a fine old house on the hillside.

“What the hell?” Zephyr asked and slammed her foot into her father’s face. “You coward! Why couldn't you wait for Cas to—!”

He howled as his nose cracked beneath her shoe. She pulled back her leg once more and he tackled her legs, and she crashed back down.

They rolled over and over, Zephyr clawing at any exposed skin she could find, blood staining her hands. She was so fucking angry.

Eventually, somehow, she managed to sit on her father’s neck, thighs squeezed his throat as he choked under her, face red and sweaty.

His fists pounded into her sides and back but they might as well have been pillows–she was just so pissed off that the attacks felt like nothing.

Zephyr wanted to kill her father. She wanted to watch the life drain from his eyes. She wanted to bash her father’s head against the gravestones. She wanted to feel his body go slack beneath her. 

A twig cracked somewhere near her. Her head shot up as footsteps approached. The moment her grip loosened, her father tossed her off and rolled away, gasping for air.

A hooded figure appearex, dressed in crimson robes, carrying an oil lamp.

She scrambled for her wand that had fallen to the side, discarded during the scuffle.

The figure drew nearer, walking steadily toward them between the graves. She couldn’t make out a face. As they approached, Zephyr stepped back, her head spinning, panic seizing her.

“Let me introduce you to my friend, Mister Maldez. I believe you two are acquainted?” Her father wheezed from the ground.

Fuck.

Cas—she needed Cas. 

“Cas!” She screamed uselessly into the night, “Cas!”

“Why don't you call for your mummy?” Her father grinned, showing off bloodied teeth. “Bring the bitch.”

Another person emerged from the darkness, dragged a smaller figure behind him. Her mother was twisting and screaming but there were ropes bounding her.

Zephyr was paralysed to the spot, mind-numbing horror holding her in its tightening grip. Fear became a tangible, living force that crept over her like a hungry, twisting viper, keeping her captive.

The three responses to threat were fight, flight or freeze. 

She was well and truly frozen.

There was a sharp crack that echoed through the graveyard. Zephyr and Co whipped around to face the sudden noise. Her father’s face drained of colour.

Casspian stood firm and tall a couple metres away, wand dangling casually in his grip and announced, “the party doesn't start till I walk in!”

Matthias was vomiting behind him.

“No, Cas, that was horrible,” Dorian said as he emerged from behind a tree, shaking his hair from his face. 

Cas frowned, “I thought it was clever. Hey, Mister Lee! How are you? Wow, your nose is broken. Zeph’? Nice to see you here. You okay?”

She groaned and headed over to him. “Peachy. I thought you kept an eye on my mum?”

“Hey, you,” Cas pulled her against his side. “What happened?”

“I stumbled into dad, who wanted a family reunion. Would have been sweet in a different situation. Then he Apparated us here and I pummelled his face in.”

“Nice. Any broken bones or life-threatening injuries?”

“Me or him?”

“You.”

“Nope. Just some bruises.”

“Good, good,” Cas replied cheerfully. “Hey, Harlot, where's your backup?”

“He's coming,” Dorian said, approaching them. “Hey, you guys do realise we're in a graveyard, her dad’s turf?”

“Thanks for stating the obvious,” Matthias gasped as he finally recovered. “I hated that.”

“I’ll let you walk next time,” Cas promised.

“And, what, miss the fun? Thanks,” Matthias retorted.

“This has been my plan all along!” Her father shouted. “I wanted to draw all of you here to solve my problems all at once—”

“Shut up, we're bantering,” Cas told her dad. “Wait your turn.”

“Insolent children! How dare you speak to me like that? I have years more of knowledge compared to you toddlers—”

“If you would like to speak to an adult, I am happy to oblige.”

Voldemort stepped into the clearing, his pale, shiny bald head glistening in the moonlight. 

Her father spluttered and backed away, tripping over his own feet.

“So, who are the bad guys here?” Matthias asked. “I’m a bit confused.”

“One step at the time, Matty-boy,” Cas said. “Hey, future father-in-law! You should give up. I would, if I were in your shoes. You're severely outnumbered—”

Her father raised his arms to the sky and yelled, “at arms!”

The ground began to shake, skeletal hands clawing out from graves. 

“The Necromancer,” Voldemort said, eyes gleaming. “How fascinating. I want to dissect you.”

“You just had to say it, Cas.” Zephyr muttered.

“Sorry Firefly, I forgot.”

“I told you we were in a graveyard!” Matthias exclaimed as a bony hand closed around his ankle. “Ew, ew, get off me!”

“Use fire! These things can only die via fire!” Cas exclaimed, prancing out of reach from the skeleton that was crawling towards him, its legs missing.

“Or,” Zephyr said calmly. “I can do this.”

She closed her eyes, shut out the cries of panic around her, and focused on the smell of the earth. She felt the breeze lick at her face, the sting of her cuts.

In her mind’s eye, she envisioned the graveyard, reaching out to every living soul that stood there. Her father’s aura was black and slimy like oil, pulsing out tendrils of shadows that seized the corpses and made them dance on strings.

Zephyr pushed her own ropes of magic out, golden in colour, exactly like the light of Fireflies. She slashed through her father’s magic with deadly accuracy and wrapped her own around the skeletons. 

Something in her gut tugged hard and she had successfully stolen her father’s undead army.

Her eyes shot open and she was met with her father’s face. It was one of both absolute terror and pride. The emotions clashed together like a tsunami meeting a tornado, making her stomach churn.

This was not how she wanted to get her father’s approval.

Zephyr nudged the skeletons towards her father and his men, which had multiplied whilst she hadn't been paying attention.

“They’re the defectors,” Dorian cried out. “Aren't they?”

“Yes, my dear,” Voldemort sent a bright green flash of light towards one. 

The hooded figure dropped dead, and rose a second after, joining Zephyr’s ranks.

Pain exploded through her head as her father raised his head to the sky and began to chant, trying to steal the control back. Zephyr gritted her teeth and pushed again. No, they were her’s to control.

From there, she focused on the mental tug of war against her father, their magic clashing across the yard, making the skeletons stumble back and forth, disoriented by the differing commands.

Fire blazed out all around Zephyr, her friends trying to kill the dead as quickly as they could. 

One of them had to tire soon. Zephyr feared it would be her.

“Can someone just do the smart thing and kill the father?” Matthias yelled.

“I’d be my pleasure.” Cas raised his wand. “Avada Kedavra!”

“No!” A cry rang out through the battlefield. 

Her mother, who had somehow gotten out of her bonds during the fight, dove in front of her father, shielding him with her body.

Zephyr tackled Cas, the spell going sideways to hit a tree.

“Mum?” She shouted. “What the hell?”

Her mother’s eyes were clear and angry, “why would you attack your father? We haven't seen him for five years and you almost got him killed!”

Zephyr groaned. Right, the memory wipe. Damn.

“Sorry,” her father called out. “See you around.”

“Avada Kedavra!” Voldemort’s voice rang strong, no hesitation within.

The man specialised in Dark spells and by Merlin, his aim was perfect. Her father dropped dead and her mother screamed shrilly and gave Zephyr a look so filled with hatred that she averted her gaze, wincing.

“Oh, good, she’s alive,” Voldemort said idly. 

Her father laid motionless on the ground, arms and legs sprawled out. Zephyr stared at her mum, who was sobbing over his body.

“Er, is it over?” Matthias asked.

“Probably,” Dorian said.

Cas pulled her against him, turning them so she couldn't see her dead father. “We won. You're safe.”

“I’m half an orphan,” she blurted out.

“Half less than the rest of us,” he replied, laughing. 

“Not an orphan!” Yelped Matthias. “He’s up!”

Zephyr shoved Cas away and whirled around. Her father’s arms twitched.

“You know, maybe it’s the internal gases just being released,” Dorian supplied hopefully, hands on his hips.

Her father’s leg jerked and bent, knees drawing up.

“Maybe one day we’ll get lucky,” Dorian sighed wistfully.

“How is this possible? The Killing Curse always kills,” Voldemort stepped forward.

Her father’s back arched off the ground, the audible crack of bones making them all flinch. Her mother raised her head, shaking her husband, sobs breaking loose from her throat.

Zephyr wanted to hug her mother, and she would have if she was confident her mother wouldn't strangle her in her state. How was she going to explain the situation later?

“Maybe it's the Necromancy,” Cas said, looking as intrigued as Voldemort was. 

The Dark Lord glanced over at Zephyr, who backed away slightly, “no, you are not testing it out on me.”

“Avada Kedavra,” Voldemort casted once more, the green flash shooting into her father’s chest. “It is not possible.”

The body began convulsing on the ground. Then, her father shot up, black veins running across his face and down his arms. His eyes were a milky white, skin grey and ashy.

Her mother fell back, shrieking, “what the hell is wrong with him? What did you do to my husband?”

They ignored her.

“That's creepy,” Cas said.

“He's a zombie,” Matthias gasped.

“Dear God—” Someone gasped behind them.

Once again, they spun about. Zephyr was getting dizzy.

Harry and Cedric sat on the ground, clutching the Triwizard goblet between them. They were pale, beat-up and looked befuddled.

“Vol–The Dark Lord!” Cedric gasped, lifting a shaking finger to point at the snake-like man.

Voldemort gestured to himself, feigning an innocent look, “who? Me?”

“Er,” Cas said, blinking. “Hi. Funny story.”

Her father lurched to his feet, swaying, low growls tumbling from his snarling mouth.

Cedric let out a yelp and her father’s head snapped in the direction of the noise.

“Nobody move,” breathed Dorian.

Her father sniffed the air, foaming at the mouth. Growls rumbled from his body like a steam engine chugging away into the night.

Goosebumps broke over her skin. Christ, that was terrifying.

Her dad stepped forward, in the direction of Cedric and Harry. The latter didn't move, but Cedric scrambled away, trembling from head to toe.

Her father shot forward, so fast that no one had time to react. He grabbed Cedric by the neck and lifted him up into the air. His legs kicked out uselessly.

“Cedric!” Harry screamed, bolting forward, but it was too late.

Her father's jaw closed around Cedric’s throat and the boy went still.

 

Chapter 61: 4.20

No one dared to move after that. Even Voldemort was frozen to the spot.

Her father drank the boy’s blood greedily, slurping whilst crimson ran down his chin and dripped onto the earth.

Cas inched his hand into hers, Zephyr holding her breath. They exchanged helpless glances. 

“Stupefy?” Dorian squeaked.

The spell bounced off her father and he dropped Cedric’s body to the ground. Turning slowly, her father licked his lips.

Voldemort stepped in front of Dorian, a hand raised to the side to shield the blonde. 

The Dark Lord raised a naked brow, “I dare you.”

Her father pounced, teeth bared, and Voldemort knocked him away, the two men tumbling to the ground.

“Group hug!” Cas yelled and jumped in to wrestle with her father.

Dorian stood behind the three of them, hands in his hair, a bewildered expression on his face. Matthias was busy throwing up against a headstone.

Her mother lunged forward to try to pull Cas off.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Zephyr ran forward with a heavy sigh and caught a handful of her mother’s brown hair, trying to restrain her.

“Wh—Zephyr, let go of me at once!” Her mother yelled, tears streaming down her face. “Your father’s sick, he needs help! Why are you killing him?”

“Take care of her!” Cas shouted, a hand pressed firmly against her father’s forehead to stop himself from being eaten. “We’re okay—whoa!”

Her father landed a heavy fist against Voldemort’s head and the man staggered to the side, releasing his grip on her dad’s legs.

“Mum, listen to me,” Zephyr begged through sobs. “Mum, please, he's not who you think he is. Please, trust me, mum.”

“I don't care if he is Satan reincarnated. He is my husband! I love him. Do you even understand—” a choked sob escaped from her lips. “—do you understand how it felt when I thought I would never be held in his arms again?”

“Mum, no,” Zephyr pleaded, grasping at her mother’s arm desperately. “He's not dad anymore. He’ll kill you!”

“He can kill me, as long as I can hug him one last time. You would do exactly what I’m doing if Cas was in his place and you know it,” she spat out. “Don't call me your mother. You're not mine anymore. Let my husband go! He’s the love of my life!”

Zephyr’s heart dropped to her stomach, her grip faltering. Her mum was right. If it had been Cas…

“I grow tired of this!” Voldemort proclaimed.

Zephyr met her mother’s eyes and said, “I am so sorry.”

Dorian growled and leapt in, arms wrapped around her father’s stomach to pin him down.

Her mother cried out, not even looking at Zephyr as she struggled to help her husband.

“I’m sorry,” Zephyr said hoarsely. “Incarcerous.”

Thick ropes wrapped around her mother, binding her body tightly. She screeched, cursing loudly, but her efforts to get loose was fruitless.

“Never come home! You hear me?” Her mother wailed. “I disown you! You're not my daughter!”

An idea struck her.

“Hey, I wonder—” Zephyr wiped her face and stood, turned the wand to her father and repeated the spell.

The cords slammed into her father and she held her breath, daring to hope that it’d work. It wrapped around and then disintegrated.

Her father was immune to all magic.

“Fuck, damn,” Zephyr stamped her foot. “Fuck!”

“He’s like those damned Inferni,” Harry grimaced from beside her, looking like he wanted to help but had no room to actually step in. “That's The Necromancer, isn't he? Why is he here? Why the hell is Voldemort helping us?”

“Inferni,” she blinked and the solution dawned on her, the realisation making her stomach sink. “Cas! Lockhart!”

For a moment, Cas seemed completely confused, then, glancing down at her zombie-fied father, understanding lit up his features.

“Are you sure?” Cas called back, hesitation clear in his tone. “You can't take it back.”

“Do it!”

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. Incendio,” Cas murmured gently.

Her father went up in flames, howling as the sizzle of skin filled her ears. Her mother’s broken cries echoed through the graveyard, begging them to stop, to save him, to spare his life.

The last bit of normalcy in Zephyr’s life disappeared, like glass shattering.

The smell of human flesh cooking drifted up into the air, making poor Matthias dry-heave again.

That was where it all ended, years of searching and running from her father, coming to a screeching halt in a graveyard. It was a horrible conclusion for all of them, especially her mother who had to watch her husband get murdered by a handful of barely-teenagers. 

Zephyr felt tears prickle at her eyes. He was her father. He pushed her on the swing, taught her to ride a bike, and supported her when she tried to swim. He snuck her fast food that her mother did not approve of, paid for overly expensive ice cream and sacrificed his family to run from Voldemort.

Even though he was a mindless zombie, even though he killed God-knows how many people, he was still the same man who raised her.

Zephyr forced herself to watch her father die. 

The problem was that everyone was also watching him burn to a crisp, that no one even thought of Cedric.

Poor, dead Cedric, who rose unnoticed as her father’s undead warrior, threw himself onto the man, extinguished the flames with the water charm, and apparated them away.

There was a moment of stunned silence as they all stared at the spot where her father had been roasting.

“Well,” Dorian was the first to speak up. “We should have expected that.”

“Fuck you!” Her mother shouted from the dirt. “I wish you were never born! You freak!”

Zephyr flinched, shoulders heaving as sobs wracked her body. “Mum, I’m sorry—”

“Hey, Missus Lee?” Cas cut in sharply, taking Zephyr’s arm and gently leading her behind him. “Your husband just tore a boy’s neck out and drank his blood, vampire-style. No, you shut up and listen. You're still defending him? Fine, disown Zephyr all you want. She did her best to save him and save you. You will never understand the effort she put into finding the man.”

“How could you?” Her mother asked her, face blotchy. “He is your own flesh and blood. He was my baby, my everything.”

“Yeah, well,” she said quietly. “I’m a Bloodtraitor.”

---

Matthias dug into Harry’s mind, fabricating memories and cutting out most of the events that occurred that night.

The rest of them had quickly forged a story and agreed on every last detail, to make sure their alibis lined up. They had done it so many times it came naturally.

“He’s gone again. What are we going to do?” Matthias asked.

“Dad will pop up when he's ready,” Zephyr said, rubbing her face. “Let's just…put it aside for now.”

“Frame me as the one who killed Cedric,” Voldemort said, leaning against the tree. “I am already the villain here. My reputation cannot get any worse.”

“Are you sure?” Matthias asked, hands planted firmly against the sides of Harry’s face, the latter’s eyes rolled up in his head. “They'll hunt you down.”

“They tried that before and failed,” Voldemort snorted. “Take the Portkey, go back and tell them a mighty tale of how I drained the blood out of a teenager to gain power. I shall take my leave. Dorian, you go with your friends. Our little predicament has been resolved.”

“They were all the defectors?” Dorian asked, startled.

“Your friend’s father has been stealing my men,” Voldemort said, disdain dripping from his words. “I felt my mark on their traitorous skin. Good riddance to them. One of them had infiltrated Hogwarts, put your names in the Goblet.”

“Mhmm!” Her mother protested, her mouth stuffed with rope. Cas had been unable to listen to her insult Zephyr any longer.

“What?” Cas asked, startling. “Your men put Zeph’s name in?”

“They're not my men any longer. They follow a rip-off version of me, the cheap one.”

“I don't see you surviving the Killing Curse,” Zephyr muttered.

“I can raise Inferni,” Voldemort told her flatly. “I was the original Necromancer. I have achieved immortality. He is a copy of me. I do not want to argue further. Dorian, my dearest, write to me once you are safely in bed.”

“Sure,” Dorian said with a shrug.

The Dark Lord apparated away, muttering something about ‘insane children’ and ‘back in my day’.

Harry blinked up at them, “Cedric!”

“Voldemort left,” Cas said soothingly, crouching down. “I scared him off. He's a big baby, despite his reputation. He felt some fire on his shiny, hairless head and ran with his tail between his legs.”

Dorian snorted and then covered it up with a cough.

Zephyr sagged against a stone angel, thoroughly drained of all energy. She wanted to curl up and sleep for the next fifty years. She wanted to be laid to rest in the dirt.

She was an orphan now.

“Ready?” Cas asked out loud, gesturing to the trophy port-key. “Come here.”

They gathered around, Matthias and Dorian supporting her unbound and now-unconscious mother between them. Cas squeezed her hand comfortingly.

“Okay,” he said, “three—two—one!”

Zephyr touched the cup and, in a whirlwind of colour and wind, she was teleported away.

 

Chapter 62: 4.21

Grass. All she could taste was grass and soil. She spat out a mouthful and pushed herself up from the ground, disoriented.

A torrent of sound deafened her; there were voices everywhere, footsteps, screams. She and Cas’ hands were still firmly entwined, always connected and eternally by each other’s sides.

“Harry!” Dumbledore cried and ran past them.

Dorian gave a lazy thumbs-up to the starry skies, “yep, no worries, thanks for the concern.”

Matthias was holding a hand over his mouth, green in the face.

“Deep breathes, brother,” Dorian supplied helpfully.

“Yeah, thanks, I’m trying,” Matthias said in a strained voice.

“Everyone here?” Cas called out, sitting up. “Yep, all intact and present. That's the first thing that has gone right for us tonight.”

Albus Dumbledore was crouched over Harry Potter. The dark shadows of a crowd of people pressed in around them, pushing nearer.

Cedric’s mutilated body laid next to Harry, unseeing eyes admiring the constellations dotted the heavens. Zephyr looked away, guilt-struck.

There was more blood on her hands.

“Cedric? What happened to Cedric?” Someone screamed.

Harry said, “he’s dead. Lord Voldemort killed him.”

Cas let out a sigh of relief and winked at Matthias. The ginger closed his eyes and pressed his head against his knees, tension leaving his body.

“He’ll need to go to the hospital wing!” Fudge was saying loudly. “He’s ill, he’s injured— Dumbledore, Diggory’s parents, they’re here, they’re in the stands...”

“I’ll take Harry, Dumbledore, I’ll take him—”

“No, I would prefer—”

“Dumbledore, Amos Diggory’s running...he’s coming over...Don’t you think you should tell him, before he sees—?”

“Harry, stay here—”

Girls were screaming, sobbing hysterically. Harry was hauled up by Mad Eye Moody and they disappeared into the crowd.

Someone grabbed her shoulder. Madam Pomfrey leaned down, levitating her mother up. “Follow me.”

“Cas—” Zephyr began.

Cas stood, “coming. Hey, Dorian, Matthias, keep an eye on Harry, would ya’?”

Dorian nodded, the glaze in his eyes fading. He nudged Matthias and they pushed after him.

Zephyr and Cas followed behind the healer, who took them to the hospital wing. 

“What happened?” Madam Pomfrey asked them, hurrying along the corridor.

Cas said, “well, Voldemort attacked us. He’s really back. He shot out of a grave, killed all his followers, drained their lives from their bodies.”

“Cas held him back. You should have seen it. It was crazy,” Zephyr added.

They entered the infirmary and her mother was settled onto a bed.

Madam Pomfrey hustled around the room, collecting potions and herbs, flirting between a brewing station and her plants.

Cas and her sat down, unable to look at each other. Zephyr was numb, probably still in shock. The night’s events hadn't sunken in yet.

Her mother’s chest rose and fell softly, her body nestled in the white sheets.

“I cannot use magic to heal her,” Madam Pomfrey said quietly. “She is a Muggle, after all. I can do my best but she must receive Muggle medical aid.”

“I understand,” Zephyr said.

“I can take her to the nearest Hospital. I’m sure you would like to come along.”

“No—” Zephyr said, and glanced away from her mother, “I’m staying.”

Cas tilted his head, “are you sure?”

You are not my daughter. Zephyr flinched. If someone had to kill Cas because he became a monster, she would never forgive them either. “I’m sure.”

Cas’ eyes softened and he reached for her hand. She clutched onto him like he was the last thing tethering her to sanity.

She had lost her mother, her father, all resemblance to Muggle life in a span of several hours.

Cas was the only thing holding her together.

---

Dorian tucked his hands into his pockets. Matthias limped behind him, occasionally grabbing at him for support.

“What happened to your leg?” Dorian asked.

Matthias shrugged, wincing, “landed wrong, I think.”

Dorian hummed and then tugged the ginger closer, “Moody seems…off, don't you think?”

“You could say he seemed…moody,” Matthias winked.

Dorian gave him a disgusted look. “No.”

“No?”

“No.”

They continued trailing the man silently.

“Hey, Harlot?”

Dorian side-eyed his friend. “Yeah?”

“I missed you, man.”

“Aw, want a cuddle, baby boy?”

“I’m serious.” Matthis groaned. “Being with only Cas and Zeph’, I felt so alone.”

He sighed, rubbing his face. He did not want to talk about his feelings. “Yeah, I get what you mean. They're a team, just the two of them. No one will ever be able to come between them. We’re their friends, yes, but they’d sacrifice us for each other.”

“We need to stick together,” agreed Matthias. “So don't disappear on me again, dude.”

“I won't. Scouts honour.”

“You were never a scout, you fib.”

Harry and Moody disappeared into his office, the door clicking shut behind them.

Matthias scratched his head. “Do you have a cup?”

“What is this, a cartoon?” Dorian asked. “Use your ears.”

They pressed their heads to the door and Dorian shut his eyes, straining his ears.

“Voldemort’s back, Harry? You’re sure he’s back? How did he do it?” Mood said, voice muffled.

“He shot out of a grave, killed his men, drained the life from their bodies,” said Harry. 

Dorian gave Matthias a thumbs up. He had successfully messed with Harry’s mind.

“Did he? How many men?”

“At–at least ten,” Harry replied.

“He did not forgive them?”

“No,” Harry’s voice was weak. “He killed them immediately.”

“How did they bring him back?” Moody pushed.

His footsteps echoed around the room, the clunk, clunk, clunk of his leg tapping against the floor. 

“There was…a man. He made Voldemort come back from the dead. The Necromancer.”

Matthias’ shoulders fell and he mouthed ‘whoops’. Dorian scowled.

“The Necromancer is in league with the Dark Lord? Interesting…very interesting. I should have expected this…” Mood muttered.

“Do we go in now?” Matthias asked. 

“Not yet,” Dorian whispered back.

“There’s a Death Eater at Hogwarts! There’s a Death Eater here–they put my name in the Goblet of Fire, they made sure I got through to the end—"

“I know who the Death Eater is,” Moody said quietly.

“Karkaroff?” said Harry, tone panicked. “Where is he? Have you got him? Is he locked up?”

“Karkaroff?” said Moody with an odd laugh. “Karkaroff fled tonight, when he felt the Dark Mark burn upon his arm. He betrayed too many faithful supporters of the Dark Lord to wish to meet them but I doubt he will get far. The Dark Lord has ways of tracking his enemies.”

“Voldy must have activated the Mark to figure out which of his followers had betrayed him,” Dorian hissed.

“Probably,” Matthias said, nodding. “But Karkoff? A Deatheater? That is…no, nevermind, it wasn't unexpected. Should have seen it coming.”

“Karkaroff’s gone? He ran away? But then–he didn’t put my name in the goblet?” Harry exclaimed.

“No,” said Moody slowly. “No, he didn’t. It was I who did that.”

Matthias gasped loudly and Dorian slapped a hand over the boy’s mouth, shushing him viciously.

“No, you didn’t,” Harry said, disbelief colouring his words. “You didn’t do that…you can’t have done.”

“If only Cas was here,” Matthias said against Dorian’s palm.

Dorian pulled away to wipe away the feeling of Matthias’ lips against his skin. “One, ew, two, Cas would have stormed in and killed the guy already for endangering Zeph’.”

“But, your brother was acting so suspicious!” Matthias exclaimed.

“Maybe he’s just an asshole.” Dorian replied dryly.

“I assure you I did,” Moody said darkly. 

There was a pause and he held his breath.

“He forgave them, then?” he said. “The Death Eaters who went free? The ones who escaped Azkaban?”

“What?” Harry asked. “I—”

“I asked you,” said Moody, “whether he forgave the scum who never even went to look for him. Those treacherous cowards who wouldn’t even brave Azkaban for him. The faithless, worthless bits of filth who were brave enough to cavort in masks at the Quidditch World Cup, but fled at the sight of the Dark Mark when I fired it into the sky.”

“He what?” Dorian’s jaw dropped. “That was him?”

“You fired...What are you talking about...?”

“I told you, Harry. I told you. If there’s one thing I hate more than any other, it’s a Death Eater who walked free. They turned their backs on my master when he needed them most. I expected him to punish them. I expected him to torture them. Tell me he hurt them, Harry. Tell me he told them that I, I alone remained faithful, prepared to risk everything to deliver to him the one thing he wanted above all…you.”

“You didn’t…it–it can’t be you…”

“Who put your name in the Goblet of Fire, under the name of a different school? I did. Who frightened off every person I thought might try to hurt you or prevent you from winning the tournament? I did. Who nudged Hagrid into showing you the dragons? I did. Who helped you see the only way you could beat the dragon? I did.”

“Ho-how about Zephyr?”

Dorian tensed, awaiting the answer with bated breath.

“That foolish girl…the Lord had a special interest in her, yes he did. He wanted her to be drawn into the tournament, to bait that blond boy, Harlot, to come to him, to reach out. The Dark Lord wanted The Necromancer to find her, and ultimately, him.”

His eyes widened. It had been Voldemort’s plan all along to get Zephyr involved with the tournament? Dorian started to inwardly draft the long, long letter he would send to the man.

“Of course, he did not ask me to put her name in. I decided it would be the best way to draw The Necromancer out.”

Dorian sighed in relief. 

“It hasn’t been easy, Harry, guiding you through these tasks without arousing suspicion. I have had to use every ounce of cunning I possess, so that my hand would not be detectable in your success. Dumbledore would have been very suspicious if you had managed everything too easily. That Zephyr girl stole the show, did so well that people were suspicious of her and the attention was drawn away from you.” Moody barked a laugh.

“As long as you got into that maze, preferably with a decent head start–then, I knew, I would have a chance of getting rid of the other champions and leaving your way clear. But I also had to contend with your stupidity. The second task...that was when I was most afraid we would fail. I was keeping watch on you, Potter. I knew you hadn’t worked out the egg’s clue, so I had to give you another hint—”

“You didn’t,” Harry said hoarsely. “Cedric gave me the clue—”

“Who told Cedric to open it underwater? I did. I trusted that he would pass the information on to you. Decent people are so easy to manipulate, Potter. I was sure Cedric would want to repay you for telling him about the dragons, and so he did. But even then, Potter, even then you seemed likely to fail. I was watching all the time... all those hours in the library. Didn’t you realise that the book you needed was in your dormitory all along?”

“I planted it there early on, I gave it to the Longbottom boy, don’t you remember? Magical Water Plants of the Mediterranean. It would have told you all you needed to know about gillyweed. I expected you to ask everyone and anyone you could for help. Longbottom would have told you in an instant. But you did not…you did not. You have a streak of pride and independence that might have ruined all.”

“So what could I do? Feed you information from another innocent source. You told me at the Yule Ball a house-elf called Dobby had given you a Christmas present. I called the elf to the staffroom to collect some robes for cleaning. I staged a loud conversation with Professor McGonagall about the hostages who had been taken, and whether Potter would think to use gillyweed. And your little elf friend ran straight to Snape’s office and then hurried to find you...”

“You were so long in that lake, Potter, I thought you had drowned. But luckily, Dumbledore took your idiocy for nobility, and marked you high for it. I breathed again. You had an easier time of it than you should have in that maze tonight, of course,” said Moody. “I was patrolling around it, able to see through the outer hedges, able to curse many obstacles out of your way. I Stunned Fleur Delacour as she passed. I put the Imperius Curse on Krum, so that he would finish Diggory and leave your path to the Cup clear. I let The Necromancer in to stop Zephyr, but he—”

The man paused. “He went off script. He Apparated them away. And then that meddlesome group of Bloodtraitors stepped in. They derailed my entire plan. They could have ended the whole thing.”

“The Dark Lord didn’t manage to kill you, Potter, and he so wanted to,” whispered Moody. “Imagine how he will reward me when he finds I have done it for him. I gave you to him–the thing he needed above all to regenerate–and then I killed you for him. I will be honoured beyond all other Death Eaters. I will be his dearest, his closest supporter…closer than a son…”

Footsteps echoed behind them. Dorian whipped around to find Dumbledore, Snape and McGonagall sprinting down the hallway, their robes bellowing behind them.

“Out of the way!” Dumbledore yelled.

The two boys glanced at each other and dove to the side.

Dumbledore broke down the door in a crash of splinters. Dorian peaked into the room.

Moody was thrown backward onto the office floor. Harry jumped back and looked around, saw the five of them standing in the doorway, Dumbledore in front, his wand outstretched

Matthias waved. “Hi, sorry. Yes, it’s us, the meddlesome group of Bloodtraitors. Half of us, actually. The murderous one isn't here.”

Dorian cocked his head to the side. “I’m feeling rather bloodthirsty myself.”

Dumbledore stepped into the office, placed a foot underneath Moody’s unconscious body, and kicked him over onto his back, so that his face was visible. Snape followed him. Professor McGonagall went straight to Harry.

“I think our job here is done,” Matthias announced and grabbed Dorian’s shoulder. “Shall we?”

“Nope,” Dorian popped the ‘p’ and crossed his arms over his chest. “I want to watch the show.”

“Leave,” Dumbledore told them sharply.

“Urgh,” Dorian groaned and turned on his heel. “Fine.”

The two of them headed back down the hallway, walking quietly until they were out of earshot.

Once they were far enough, Dorian whipped around and began shaking the ever-loving shit out of Matthias, “Moody was a Deatheater all this while?”

“Whoa, hey, I will throw up again,” warned Matthias.

Dorian stepped back, running a hand through his hair. “He put Zeph’s name in the goblet, he planned all this? How?”

“I dunno,” Matthias said, throwing his hands up. “I don’t know! I heard as much as you did!”

“This is going to blow Cas’ mind!”

“And make him blow a hole in the school. He's going to be so pissed off. Oh, lord,” Dorian paused, horror filling him. “I owe my brother an apology. We all do.”

“Er, no, absolutely not,” Matthias said.

“Alright, fine. But, really, we need to tell Cas.”

---

Zephyr held a cup of coffee between her palms, the heat radiating from the mug soothing. Her head pounded and she wanted to take a long nap.

Cas was lying face-down on the floor of their dormitory, murmuring nonsense into the carpet.

“C’mon, it's been an hour, Cas. Get over it. Moody was evil. We were all misled,” Dorian nudged the boy with a toe.

“How didn't I see it? He helped me…he helped me learn the Unforgivables,” Cas groaned. “I should have known! Why would a teacher let a kid learn these spells?”

“You couldn't have guessed. Stop the pity-party,” Matthias nodded. 

“Our school year keeps getting cut short,” Cas said with a sigh, rolling over lazily. “Where are we going for the holidays?”

“Well…” Dorian said slowly, “how about back to my place with Voldy?”

What? Zephyr stared at the blond boy.

“You want us to have a sleepover with the Dark Lord?” Matthias asked, jaw falling open.

“Sort of, yeah. Up for it? Surely this isn't the craziest thing we’ve done.”

“I’m down,” Cas said, tossing his arm up in the air to give them a thumbs up.

“This will backfire,” Zephyr said.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we have to,” Cas promised. “One step at the time, children.”

“Okay, just because you're a year older doesn't give you the right to call us children,” Dorian protested.

“To-may-to, to-mah-to.”

“Question mark and two exclamation marks,” Matthias replied.

“Let's get packing,” Cas heaved himself up. “Go write to your boyfriend, Dorian. Tell him he has to be a babysitter.”

Dorian scowled. “He isn't my boyfriend.”

Chapter 63: 4.22

Notes:

And LAST CHAPTERRR

They settled down in their seats for the Last Feast.

The Great Hall was normally decorated with the winning House’s colours.

Tonight, however, there were black drapes on the wall behind the teachers’ table. Harry knew instantly that they were there as a mark of respect to Cedric.

The real Mad-Eye Moody was at the staff table now, his wooden leg and his magical eye back in place. He was extremely twitchy, jumping every time someone spoke to him. Harry couldn’t blame him; Moody’s fear of attack was bound to have been increased by his ten-month imprisonment in his own trunk. Professor Karkaroff’s chair was empty. 

Madame Maxime was still there. She was sitting next to Hagrid. They were talking quietly together. Further along the table, sitting next to Professor McGonagall, was Snape. 

Dorian pulled out the Cup Noodles, tore open the plastic wrapping and summoned a stream of water. 

“You could wait for a couple minutes more,” Cas said, eyeing the boy.

Dorian held his wand over the cup, using a heating spell to make the water boil, “knowing Dumbledore? It’d take thirty minutes and I’m hungry.”

Dumbledore stood up from the staff table. The Great Hall, which in any case had been less noisy than it usually was at the Leaving Feast, became very quiet.”

“The end,” said Dumbledore, looking around at them all, “of another year.”

He paused, and his eyes fell upon the Hufflepuff table. Theirs had been the most subdued table before he had gotten to his feet, and theirs were still the saddest and palest faces in the Hall.

“There is much that I would like to say to you all tonight,” said Dumbledore, “but I must first acknowledge the loss of a very fine person, who should be sitting here,” he gestured toward the Hufflepuffs, “enjoying our feast with us. I would like you all, please, to stand, and raise your glasses, to Cedric Diggory.”

Zephyr averted her gaze. It was ultimately her fault for his death. She could have saved him. She didn't even try.

Cas squeezed her knee, “you are not—”

“My father’s daughter. I know.”

He sighed, eyes pleading, “don't shut us out. Don't do that anymore.”

She kissed his cheek, breathing in his scent. “I won't.”

“Cedric was a person who exemplified many of the qualities that distinguish Hufflepuff House,” Dumbledore continued. “He was a good and loyal friend, a hard worker, he valued fair play. His death has affected you all, whether you knew him well or not. I think that you have the right, therefore, to know exactly how it came about.”

“Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort.”

Zephyr’s head snapped up to stare at her Headmaster. Cas gasped loudly and slapped a hand over his mouth when heads turned to stare at him. Dorian’s palms were pressed to the sides of his face, mouth forming an ‘o’ shape. Matthias was gripping his fork.

“What? He’s announcing it?” Dorian cried out.

“You fooled Dumbledore?” Cas grabbed Matthias’ wrist. “Holy crap!”

Matthias stared at the boy. “Did I have the option not to?”

A panicked whisper swept the Great Hall. People were staring at Dumbledore in disbelief, in horror. He looked perfectly calm as he watched them mutter themselves into silence.

“The Ministry of Magic,” Dumbledore continued, “does not wish me to tell you this. It is possible that some of your parents will be horrified that I have done so; either because they will not believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, or because they think I should not tell you so, young as you are. It is my belief, however, that the truth is generally preferable to lies, and that any attempt to pretend that Cedric died as the result of an accident, or some sort of blunder of his own, is an insult to his memory.”

Shock and fright was reflected on every face. People clutched their friends, sobs broke out.

“There is somebody else who must be mentioned in connection with Cedric’s death,” Dumbledore went on. “I am talking, of course, about Harry Potter.”

“Harry Potter managed to escape Lord Voldemort,” said Dumbledore. “He risked his own life to return Cedric’s body to Hogwarts. He showed, in every respect, the sort of bravery that few wizards have ever shown in facing Lord Voldemort, and for this, I honour him.”

“And I would like to mention our infamous group of friends who have dubbed themselves ‘The Bloodtraitors’. Zephyr Sylvester-Lee, Casspian Blackthorn, Dorian Harlot, Matthias Arnoux. They fought Voldemort off bravely. Harry would not have succeeded without their help.”

The four of them exchanged amused glances. 

Dumbledore turned and raised his goblet once more. Nearly everyone in the Great Hall followed suit. They murmured their names, as they had murmured Cedric’s, and drank to them. 

When everyone had once again resumed their seats, Dumbledore continued, “The Triwizard Tournament’s aim was to further and promote magical understanding. In the light of what has happened–of Lord Voldemort’s return–such ties are more important than ever before.”

Dumbledore looked from Madame Maxime and Hagrid, to Fleur Delacour and her fellow Beauxbatons students, to Viktor Krum and the Durmstrangs at their table.

“Every guest in this Hall,” said Dumbledore, and his eyes lingered upon the Durmstrang students, “will be welcomed back here at any time, should they wish to come. I say to you all, once again—in the light of Lord Voldemort’s return, we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided. Lord Voldemort’s gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust. Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open.”

“It is my belief , and never have I so hoped that I am mistaken, that we are all facing dark and difficult times. Some of you in this Hall have already suffered directly at the hands of Lord Voldemort. Many of your families have been torn asunder. A day ago, a student was taken from our midst.”

“Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory.”

Amongst the applause, Dorian leaned over to whisper, “y’know, I feel bad for Volds’. He’s taking a rather heavy fall for us.”

Cas offered him a smile.

---

“So, this is it. Our little cottage. We have to sleep on the floor to fit, but it's been my home for a few months,” Dorian said, pushing into the quaint little house. “No one can come in, no one can track us here.”

Zephyr set her belongings down on the kitchen table and glanced around. It was cosy, with many plants hanging from little pots attached to the ceiling. The house was painted beige and white, gentle and soft colours that reflected none of Voldemort’s ruthlessness.

Cas threw himself down on the couch, stretching out. “Wow, this is nice. Why didn't you tell me that your boy was rich?”

“He's the Dark Lord with ever growing influence everywhere,” Dorian deadpanned, kicking Cas’ leg to make room to sit as well. “‘Course he’s rich.”

“Y’know, I was wondering,” Zephyr began, leaning against the marble counter. “Why did that…bitch Rita stop writing about me.”

“Oh!” Cas raised his head. “That. Sorry, took care of it with some help from that Gryffindor nerd.”

“Hermione?”

“Yeah, her. Don't worry about Skeeter or whatever her name was. She won't utter a word about you any more.”

Matthias raised his hand, “can I ask something as well? What are we going to do about her father? He’s on the loose, again.”

“We will do something about it. Don't worry,” Cas said, a predatory gaze in his eyes, “but let's take a breather and regroup first. Then, we hunt him down, even if we have to dig up every grave on earth.”

 

Chapter 64: 5.0

Notes:

i need to warn everyone: this book is dark. very dark. keep in mind that the Bloodtraitors are not good people. i wrote their descent into darkness slowly and it pays off here. anyways...enjoy the first chapter.

Zephyr peeked out from behind the bushes, squinting against a bright light that was shining directly at her face. Her heart pounded in her chest.

“There you are,” Voldemort said calmly, pale digits wrapped around his wand. 

Zephyr rolled out, tossing an Expelliarmus at the same time. The spell crashed into a tree as the Dark Lord neatly side-stepped her attack, and sent a silent red hex at her.

She casted a shield, let the spell bounce off, and dissolved it, all in the space of a blink. Her breath was haggard as she ran, ducking as hex after hex was flung at her head.

With a shriek, she skidded behind a tree and pressed herself against it, murmuring a prayer.

A twig snapped to her right and she glanced over—and the tip of a wand pressed into her left arm.

“Dead,” Voldemort said, stepping out from the shadows of the night.

She groaned, “again? How did you find me in the first place?”

“You are not as well-hidden as you imagined. Your legs were sticking out,” he said, turning his wand away. “However, I caught Matthias first.”

“Small victories,” Zephyr grumbled, pocketing her own wand. 

“You should cast harmful spells, not First Year, rudimentary ones,” Voldemort peered at her, disapproval clear within his snake-like eyes.

“I didn't want to actually harm you,” she said, shrugging. “This is just practice.”

“The point of practice is to get better,” he chidded. “You are staying within your comfort zone. And you will not be able to harm me. Your boy-toy takes this very seriously.”

“Cas is like that,” she said, sighing. “Where’s Matthias?”

“Dangling from a tree. I wanted to teach him a lesson. You may go free him. I will go find Casspian and Dorian.”

Zephyr pursed her lips and nodded, turning to head back through the forest. It had been a strange change of pace, working with Voldemort to find her father. The Dark Lord told them to polish their skills first, because they would not survive in a fight against her dad.

After he had died (twice) and came back to life, his powers had been truly unlocked. He was, as far as any of them could tell, invincible. His influence over the dead had grown tenfold and more dark wizards turned from Voldemort to join The Necromancer.

The Dark Lord was pretty upset about it and decided to tutor them so they had a chance at defeating the guy.

So far, Zephyr and Matthias were fairing terribly. They lost the duels quickly. Cas and Dorian, however, were having the time of their lives. Their abilities had grown rapidly and brutally, making them go head-to-head against Voldemort.

It was equal parts terrifying and hot when she watched her boyfriend sling Unforgivables like it was nothing.

Cas had protested, saying how the Killing Curse did null against her dad, but Voldemort told them to keep using it because it was the hardest spell to cast, and their skills would improve the fastest with it.

“Here! Help!”

She glanced up and nearly tripped over the roots of a tree. Matthias was tied upside down from a tree, hanging by a foot. His face was red and he waved wildly at her.

“Diffindo,” she slashed her wand in an arch. 

The ropes binding the boy snapped and he dropped to the ground, somehow landing in a tidy crouch.

“Thanks,” he dusted off his shirt. “God, it's so scary fighting against the guy. He ambushed me when I was trying to find Cas for protection. He Everte Statum-ed me into a tree and then Incarcerous-ed me. It took a second. A second! I didn't even realise I was upside down until Voldemort walked away.”

He fell into step with her, “how did you get caught?”

“I’m very bad at hide-and-seek.” She elaborated no further.

Matthias snickered.

“Oh, don't you start. You were the first to be found.”

“I’m at five-to-eight against you. You’ve lost more times.”

“Because you used your mind tricks against Voldemort,” she scowled in protest. “I don't exactly have a graveyard to level the playing field with. Besides, my one advantage is also my dad’s advantage. It becomes a lose-lose situation.”

“Unless you become stronger than him,” Matthias said, shrugging. “But he's unstoppable right now.”

That was when a plan was planted into her mind, snaking through her thoughts and sinking its teeth deep into her brain.

She smiled. “Unless.”

---

 

They spent their holidays practicing against Voldemort. Cas itched to go out and find her dad, but Voldemort remained firm in his decision to keep them there until they were fully ready.

Besides duels, they were trained in potions and Runology. Voldemort promised that learning about runes was crucial in mastering the Dark Arts. He wanted them to be able to create rune circles and draw power from the earth to aid them if they needed.

Matthias found that the easiest out of the four of them. He claimed it was like digging through a person’s mind, pulling things out. Zephyr, too, found similarities between Runes and Necromancy. Drawing the magic from the soil was exactly the same as absorbing life from the surroundings. It made her feel like she was unstoppable.

Cas and Dorian weren't faring well. They spent hours hunched over the dirt, wand in hand, carving symbols through the grass and mud.

Voldemort stood over them, arms crossed, exasperated by their handwriting—”No, my dearest, you drew the Rune for puddles and not rain.” and “Blackthorn, you must flick the end of the tail sharply, you keep on curving it. What you are scrawling is not a real word.”

Matthias had laughed, his hairs floating around his head as purple-ish light flowed from between his fingers that were planted firmly in the ground. 

“One day, you will be able to channel the magic through your shoes,” Voldemort told them. “It will help you win many battles.”

“We don't have time to colour during a fight,” Cas frowned, dusting his hands clean and leaning back. His bones popped and he winced. “Merlin, I’m old.”

“It is not colouring,” Voldemort said, sighing tiredly. “It is essential in growing more powerful. I made myself immortal through Dark Rituals. You can go beyond the limits of the mortal body.”

Dorian looked up, his face streaked with dirt. “Yeah, well, I’m not having fun. I feel like a kid.”

They were also forced to go on long runs to build up their stamina, because no matter how many spells they knew, they would die if they couldn't physically keep up with their opponent.

To cure the boredom of jogging through the foggy forest near their cottage, they turned it into a game of tag. Cas had developed a newfound love for parkour after vaulting over a fallen tree and landing smoothly.

At night, they discussed magical theories and brought up ones that seemed impossible, to which Voldemort either agreed or disagreed with, giving lengthy explanations on his answers. Most of their debates expanded their knowledge and they had the chance to understand Voldemort’s views. 

Then, there were the fights over robes. Voldemort found them necessary because it upheld the true traditions of the Wizarding World. Cas thought they were impractical for movement because they could trip people up. Matthias thought they were ugly and wanted better designs. Dorian liked them because he looked great. Zephyr remained neutral.

Friendships ended and trust was broken within the conversation. Everyone had gone to bed angry. The next day, they had bonded over Pho.

Despite all the grumbling and groaning, Zephyr could see them improve slowly. Her movements were more fluid and she could slide between spells easily, instead of scrambling to think of another. She reacted fast and calmly, not panicking even when Voldemort threw a Crucio at her during one of their practice matches.

Matthias no longer threw up whenever he Apparated (after never-ending teasing on how it would be his special attack). It had taken Voldemort and him a good two weeks before the younger boy mastered it, and Voldemort constantly looked as if he was regretting every decision he made that led to the moment.

Matthias also worked on his Legilimency.

It was both funny and creepy how often Zephyr stumbled upon the two of them staring deep into each other's eyes in the kitchen. 

She would whisper to Dorian, “aren't you jealous?”

To which Dorian would reply with a roll of his eyes, “no.”

Matthias was in awe of Voldemort’s mind. He swore up and down his mental fortitude was incredible and it was difficult to get past the Occlumency that hid Voldemort’s thoughts. The Dark Lord, in return, begrudgingly admitted that Matthias’s Legilimency was one of the best he had ever seen.

They took turns shielding and invading each other’s heads until they were both uncomfortably familiar with each other—“Did you know Volds’ wears silk boxers only, Cas?” “Thanks, but I could have gone through the rest of my life without knowing this.”

Cas spent the most time with Voldemort, polishing his wand-work. Then, he moved on to mastering every spell without his wand. Once he could cast the Unforgivables without a wand, he began learning to do all of them silently. Voldemort was clearly intrigued by Cas’ supernatural inclinations towards magic. Zephyr saw the Dark Lord stare at Cas many times, snake-like eyes practically sparkling.

When they were done with lessons, Dorian stuck to the older man’s side. They often sat together, legs touching, whilst reading different books. They were weirdly attuned to each other; Dorian always knew how to calm Voldemort down when he was angry, and in turn, the Dark Lord easily handled Dorian’s scalding words. Voldemort often handed the boy books on politics around the world, telling him to sharpen his mind even further for it was his greatest weapon.

They even introduced the man to Cup Noodles, which he absolutely despised because of the lack of nutritional value. Monosodium Glutamate (MSG) had been permanently banned from the house, which led to a big fight breaking out between Dorian and Voldemort. Several windows had been smashed and Cas had to extinguish the burning couch.

They didn't speak for several days after, and finally, the Dark Lord had caved and bought Dorian several dozen cups of Chilli Crab Cup Noodles.

On the days Voldemort was too busy to entertain them, they spent the day racing around on their broomsticks. He would collect news for them to keep them up to date with the outside world.

“What do you mean Harry was attacked by Dementors?” Cas asked, clutching a newspaper.

Voldemort shrugged, “he was attacked. What else must I say? It is all in the paper. Read it.”

Cas closed his eyes briefly. “You take everything too literally.”

“You control Dementors?” Dorian asked, leaning over to peek at the page. “Since when?”

“Since never,” said Voldemort, leaning back in his barchair at the kitchen island. “I will never work with those creatures. They are unpredictable and not loyal enough. I will not take such risks. I believe your father, however, would. They are both well-acquainted with death.”

Zephyr blinked. “My dad is in league with them? That's bad. How do we kill Dementors?”

“The Patronous charm can—”

“No,” Matthias said, interrupting Voldemort who glared at him, “like kill them, not chase them away.”

“Hey, when they go in for the Kiss, you could stuff an apple in, make them choke to death. They aren't immune to physical attacks,” Cas suggested.

“None of you will be sticking anything into Dementors for you will not get close enough to one to try,” Voldemort said sternly. “Potter is not your concern. Do not burden yourselves unnecessarily. I would also like to inform you that the Order of the Phoenix has been gathered once more.”

“The what?” Matthias asked, arching a brow. “What, do they keep birds or something? Are you suddenly interested in having a pet? Hey, didn't you want a—?”

“Silence,” Voldemort cut in. “I will not be bullied by a handful of squealing children. No, they are not a group of birdwatchers. They were founded to destroy me back in my glory days. Dumbledore leads them. They believe I have risen once more. Although true, I find it most vexing.”

“And you want us to…disband them?” Cas asked slowly.

“No,” Voldemort said. “I want you four to keep your heads out of this. Your focus should be on The Necromancer. I will deal with the old man and his merry band.”

“But…isn't it bad that you're gaining so much negative attention?” Dorian itched at his nose.

“I do not care about how others perceive me. I am above such silly needs, and I do not require approval from outsiders. I know my worth,” Voldemort declared proudly. “Do not look at me like that. I will not be mocked.”

Matthias’ grimace was wiped clean off his face instantly. Dorian made a gagging sound and stuck his tongue out.

“I thought you didn't care? Let us judge you in peace,” Cas said with a grin. “We’re teenagers, after all.”

“We will never finish this conversation at the rate we are going,” Voldemory said, groaning. “Let me speak and hold your comments until after.”

Zephyr mimicked zipping her lips and tossing the key. Cas dove off the table and onto the floor to catch the imaginary key and pretended to eat it.

Voldemort looked like he wanted to kill them all or start crying. Maybe both. “However, the Ministry is unaccepting about my return. I find it equally infuriating and advantageous. If the Government will not help bring me down, I have a chance to carry on my work. I will urge you four to keep your heads down and do not let anyone suspect that we are in league.”

“We can try, but we make no promises,” Cas said, getting up from the ground. “You know us.”

“Unfortunately, I do,” Voldemort said grimly. “I need you four to keep away from your new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Dolores Umbridge. She is from the Ministry and she is a…”

He paused, thinking of a word to describe her.

“Bitch?” Dorian supplied helpfully.

“Yes. A female dog,” Voldemort hummed in agreement. “She is a vile person. Do not cross her.”

“How do we keep away from our teacher?” Matthias asked, looking puzzled. “Are you asking us to skip her classes?”

“No,” Voldemort said, “you will attend but you will not show off. You will act like any other Hogwarts students. She will be wary of you at first, so you must not feed into her suspicion.”

Time flew by fast. They were having fun living with the Dark Lord and soon, it turned into September and they were back off to Hogwarts.

Voldemort bid them goodbye at the cottage, unable to accompany them to the station. It was probably for the best.

Zephyr imagined the Dark Lord dropping them off at the train and hugging them, whilst everyone else gawked. It was hilarious.

The station was crowded as usual, hoards of teary-eyed parents seeing their First-Years off. The moment they stepped through the wall onto platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters, all eyes were on them.

“We’ve done this four times,” Cas told them. “Keep your heads up and walk. They are not worth our time or attention.”

Dorian smirked, “obviously.”

“Has anyone told you that you're just the taller version of Malfoy?” Zephyr glanced at the boy. “You're both rich, blonde and arrogant.”

“Thanks,” Dorian’s shoulders fell. “I feel really confident now.”

Matthias snickered. “She has a point.”

“I see it,” Cas agreed.

“Fuck off,” Dorian sighed and stalked forward, the sea of people parting around him.

Zephyr had dubbed it the ‘Bloodtraitor’ effect. People subconsciously gave them a wide berth wherever they went, regardless if they knew who they were or not. Fear flickered through their downturned gazes as the four of them reached the train door.

The cabins were all jam-packed with students, crammed in like sardines in a tin. The hallway was littered with loose bits of parchment–someone must have lost their homework. The chatter was nearly deafening, students eagerly recounting their holidays to their friends.

Their usual cabin, all the way at the back of the train, was empty as usual. It was an unspoken rule that no one was allowed to sit there–there were even rumours circulating that the carriage was haunted by a dark and murderous ghost.

They were probably referring to Cas, who tossed himself into the seat with a heave of relief. “It's so warm in the station.”

“Must be the exhaust of the train,” Matthias said.

Dorian raised a brow, “the train runs on magic.”

“How would you explain the smoke, then?” Zephyr asked, sitting down on Cas’ feet. He wiggled his toes beneath her bum, making her squirm and slap his leg.

“Dramatic effects.” Dorian shrugged. “Dry ice. A smoke machine. Who knows?”

“Like, what, S-F-X?” Cas snorted. “I think the heat is just the body heat of all the people there.”

“A fever must be going around, then,” Matthias said with a grin. “Hey, make room.”

Dorian folded his legs to his body, leaning against the window. “I’m hungry.”

“We had pasta before we left,” Cas reminded.

“Yeah,” Dorian said wistfully, “I’ll miss his cooking.”

“How many people do you think he killed to learn how to cook?” Cas asked, reaching for his book. “Or is it just natural talent?”

“I can't imagine Volds’ attending cooking classes or reading those chef magazines,” Matthias said, yawning. “But I think the Hogwart’s feasts are better.”

“They don't feel home-y enough,” Dorian said. “There is no love put into the dishes.”

“You tell your boyfriend not to pour any of his love into my food,” Cas grimaced.

“You're gross. And he's not my boyfriend.”

“Denial, smish-nial,” Cas waved Dorian’s protests away. “When’s the cart coming around?”

Matthias, being the closest to the door, pulled it back to peer into the hallway. “Quite far away, but making her way down.”

“Great,” Cas thumbed through his book to find where he had bookmarked.

“Chess?” Matthias asked Dorian.

“You're going down,” Dorian declared and pulled out the chessboard.

Zephyr closed her eyes, curling up against her boyfriend, using his shoulder as a pillow.