Taming the True Fire (HP)

"I must say, I'm thoroughly impressed with your progress, my dear girl!" – Dumbledore praised the young black-haired witch, standing in front of his desk, with her eyes glowing in green – "I honestly didn't expect you to be able to use true fire so soon after beginning your training."

"Thank you, sir." – the girl replied, gripping the armrest of the nearest chair as a wave of dizziness hit her. Her voice was steady, though her face betrayed the strain – "I just hope the side effects of using Elemental magic disappear sooner rather than later."

"Yes, the aftermath is certainly an unfortunate part of the process." – the Headmaster nodded thoughtfully before flicking his wand, conjuring a pitcher of ice-cold lemonade that shimmered in the candlelight – "It's believed that rest and hearty food help speed up recovery. Did you manage to get enough during the holidays?"

"I didn't sleep much." - Catherine admitted with a frown, accepting a glass and downing it in one go - "You insist I only take Dreamless Sleep Potion once a week, after all. But I ate plenty—Mrs Potter's cooking is incredible."

"Ah, yes!" – the wizard's smile brightened – "I've heard you spent Christmas at Godric's Hollow. I hope you liked it."

"It was a new experience for me." - she said, a genuine smile creeping onto her face - "Completely different from home. The Potters made me feel... like a normal teenager, for once. And the village is beautiful in winter."

Dumbledore's features softened, touched by a tinge of sadness as he watched the girl cling to the empty glass, her thin fingers pale against the cool surface. Her childish face bore a seriousness far beyond her years.

"I haven't seen Godric's Hollow in winter for many years." - he said quietly, a distant look in his eyes.

"I saw your home when we were walking around." - Catherine mentioned, her curiosity piquing. Dumbledore's personal life had always been shrouded in mystery.

"You mean you saw my family's house." – the Headmaster corrected gently, a trace of sorrow in his voice – "It hasn't been my home since my sister Ariana passed."

Catherine's eyes widened in surprise. "You had a sister?"- she blurted out, then immediately winced at her tone - "I'm sorry, sir. That sounded awful. My condolences."

"It's quite alright." – Dumbledore replied with sorrowfully – "As you've learned far too early, family relationships are... complicated. Time doesn't change that, no matter how many years pass."

"I'm not sure about that." – Catherine mumbled, her thoughts drifting to Greg, quickly adding – "But aside from the lack of sleep, I did have a good Christmas."

"We need to find a more permanent solution." – the Headmaster remarked contemplatively – "Poppy's been researching alternatives, but you can't keep losing sleep and relying on potions. How bad are the nightmares?"

"They're usually just a chaos of endless violence and torture that I commit in some form." – the young witch replied flatly, feeling hollow inside – "What's worse is that my magic gets out of control during the nightmares, and I can't stop it. I don't want to hurt anyone."

"I understand your concern." – Dumbledore said, his gaze sympathetic – "Perhaps Occlumency could help. If the nightmares are triggering your magic, learning to control your mind might stop both."

"Does this mean you'll start teaching me soon?" – Catherine asked, a note of hope slipping into her voice.

"As soon as you stop experiencing discomfort from using true fire." – the wizard replied gently. Seeing the disappointment in her eyes, he continued – "You have to understand, Catherine, I don't want to push you too hard. Excessive stress could backfire."

The girl frowned, her frustration bubbling to the surface. "I just wish people would stop treating me like I'm some fragile figurine that'll shatter at the slightest touch." - she muttered, thinking back to her last conversation with her father - "Everyone expects miracles from me, but no one trusts me enough to handle the truth. You keep me in the dark about things that affect me directly."

"You talk about your father, I assume?" - Dumbledore asked, a faint twinkle in his eyes - "His Grace seems to be a very devoted man—willing to sacrifice anything to protect you."

"Including my mental health." - Catherine said with a wry smile - "I'm grateful, I really am. But keeping me ignorant of the dangers we face doesn't protect me—it weakens me. How am I supposed to fight back if I don't even know what I'm up against?"

Dumbledore paused, considering her words carefully. "You're right, my dear." - he said after a moment - "I'm sure your parents want nothing more than to prepare you, to make sure you're ready to face whatever comes. But when it's your own child, it's hard to find that balance. Sometimes, the instinct to shield you from harm wins out, even when it shouldn't."

The young witch lowered her head, biting her lip in frustration. Dumbledore's words rang true, but that didn't make them easier to accept. She couldn't just be satisfied with being fed the bare minimum, as if she were an object to be used rather than a person with a voice.

"I just wish they'd make me part of their plans." - she said quietly, her voice tinged with longing - "I know I'm not as powerful as I could be yet, but I can still think. I should have a say. I could be useful. Do you know how they call girls in my family? We're known as the Vessels of the Curse of Morgana. I've always hated that. It's like we're not even human."

Dumbledore nodded, moving to stand beside the young witch. His hand rested gently on the back of her chair. "That's perfectly understandable, Catherine." - he said, his voice soft yet firm - "I cannot interfere with the decisions your parents make, but I agree with you. I believe you are more than capable of making your own informed choices. Unfortunately, you and your classmates are living through times that demand you grow up faster than anyone should."

"Are you talking about that Dark wizard?" – the girl asked, her thoughts drifting to Sirius, who seemed gloomier with each letter from home - "The one causing chaos all over the country?"

"Yes." – the Headmaster confirmed, his expression growing serious – "Lord Voldemort, or as he was once known, Tom Riddle, is proving to be far more dangerous than I initially feared."

"Do you know him personally, Professor?" – Catherine asked with curiosity.

Dumbledore's smile turned bitter, shadows passing behind his blue eyes. "I taught him Transfiguration when he was a student here at Hogwarts. He was, without question, the most powerful and gifted student I've ever encountered." - he paused, then added thoughtfully - "Though that may not be true anymore."

Catherine blushed slightly, but decided to seize the moment and push her luck, hoping to glean more information.

"What do you think his ultimate goal is, sir?" – she asked hesitantly, unsure if she was overstepping.

Dumbledore sighed, his expression thoughtful. "I'm not entirely certain yet, but knowing Tom as I do, it must be something grand enough to match his ambitions. You see, he grew up in an orphanage. For him, discovering he was a wizard meant everything—it made him feel special for the first time in his life. But it also planted the seeds of an inferiority complex, which hardened into a deep resentment toward anyone outside our world, or those he deems impure."

"So you think he truly wants to impose wizarding supremacy?" - Catherine asked, a surge of anger rising within her - "That's so utterly stupid!"

"Exactly!" - Dumbledore replied, his eyes sharp - "That's why he adopted a title he was never given, and why he claims descent from Salazar Slytherin—he has to be the most special, the chosen one in his own narrative."

Catherine's eyes widened. "What do you mean, he's a descendant of Slytherin?!"

"If my information is correct, his mother, Merope Gaunt, was indeed a descendant of Slytherin. Of course," - the wizard added with a crooked smile - "Tom would have been far prouder if he had your lineage, but it's impressive enough for the old pure-blood families who increasingly rally to his cause."

"This is insane!" – Catherine snapped, the thought of being somehow related to Lord Voldemort making her feel tainted – "Why isn't the Ministry doing anything?"

"The Ministry is, unfortunately, paralysed by the influence of certain individuals who support Tom." – the Headmaster said, his voice heavy with disappointment - "They're more concerned with covering up the growing number of 'incidents' involving Muggles. You must understand—they don't want to cause panic. And Tom, for the most part, has been subtle in his dealings with Muggle-borns."

"So the Ministry's fine with it as long as he doesn't kill wizards and witches?" – the young witch asked incredulously, her anger bubbling to the surface.

"In a way, yes." - Dumbledore admitted with a frown - "It's not that there haven't been attacks—there have. But they've never been directly linked to him. That makes it difficult for the Ministry to act. In fact, I had to miss a few of our lessons before the holidays to help an old friend whose daughter-in-law was murdered. It appeared connected to Tom or one of his followers. She was Muggle-born."

"And the Ministry didn't do anything?" – the girl's frustration deepened, her hands clenching into fists. The government's refusal to face the threat made her blood boil.

"They claimed they couldn't find direct evidence tying Sarah's death to Tom, despite one of his followers having an unhealthy obsession with her for years." - Dumbledore said, his tone turning cold, his face stern - "But of course, it was more than personal vendetta. We're in the midst of an intimidation campaign, which you may have noticed within the castle itself, despite our efforts to shield the school from the outside world."

"Do you think the aristocrats would help if you asked them?" - Catherine suddenly demanded, her green eyes blazing as they locked onto her teacher.

"They likely won't." - Dumbledore replied, his tone even - "It's difficult enough to get the major Houses to agree on minor issues, let alone something of this magnitude."

"Then what?" - she snapped, frustration seeping into her voice - "People like Mary or like Lily are supposed to fend for themselves, or wait for the Ministry to act when it'll be too late?"

"Unfortunately, that seems to be the case." - Dumbledore answered, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he regarded his fiery student - "But as you know, with great power comes great responsibility. It falls to those of us who can act to protect those who cannot."

"Are you talking about yourself, sir?" - Catherine asked, her gaze softening as she studied the lines of her professor's face.

"I am." - he replied calmly - "But as I'm sure you understand, I'm not motivated by fame or influence."

"I understand." – the young witch said quietly, surprised by the certainty in her own voice.

Dumbledore's expression turned thoughtful. "And what would you have done, in my place?"

Catherine paused, her eyes narrowing slightly in contemplation. "I'd do whatever was necessary to fight him." - she said firmly - "No matter what the Ministry thinks."

Their gazes met, a silent understanding passing between them. In the dim glow of the candles, Dumbledore smiled, a soft, fatherly warmth radiating from him. Behind them, the phoenix hooted softly from its perch, as if sensing the moment's gravity.

***

Catherine walked slowly from Dumbledore's office toward the Gryffindor Tower. The castle was eerily quiet after curfew, and though she knew there was a chance of running into Filch, a Prefect, or even a teacher, she couldn't bring herself to care. Her thoughts were far too heavy for such trivial concerns. The conversation with the Headmaster had been surprisingly profound, and a spark of pride flickered within her—he had asked her opinion on Voldemort. It wasn't every day that the most powerful wizard in Britain sought her thoughts on something so critical.

That newfound respect for her abilities, both magical and intellectual, gave her a much-needed boost of confidence. She still wrestled with the insecurity about her looks, but at least now she knew she was smart enough to be taken seriously. Dumbledore's inquiry had lit a fire in her—a silly, almost childish desire to prove herself worthy of his trust.

'I hope I turn out to be gifted in Occlumency.' - she thought, carefully sliding aside the frame of a sunset above a forest on the fifth floor, slipping into one of the secret passageways leading back to her Common Room.

A mischievous smile tugged at her lips because her most impressive accomplishment was currently brewing a few floors above. The Animagi potion was going exactly as planned. They had just removed the Mandrake leaves from their mouths, preserving them under a spell for the right moment. Everything was falling into place.

'Who would have thought it'd feel so good to finally move my tongue freely again.' – Catherine thought with amusement, as she entered a dimly lit corridor on the sixth floor.

A sudden noise made the girl's heart skip a beat. She instinctively pressed herself against the wall, cursing her decision not to borrow James's Invisibility Cloak. Even though Dumbledore could vouch for her, getting caught after curfew was still a hassle she'd rather avoid. She strained her ears, trying to pinpoint the source of the sound. It was coming from a small alcove, half-hidden behind a suit of armour.

Heat crept up her neck as she realised what the noise was. She had stumbled right into the middle of someone's make-out session.

'Well, they sound busy enough. I could walk by singing, and they wouldn't even notice.' – she thought with a smirk. But before she could decide on a course of action, another noise startled her. With a sharp intake of breath, she dove behind the nearest cover—a statue of a griffin.

It was a quick, calculated move, and just in time. Fifteen seconds later, Filch appeared, his ever-watchful cat, Mrs Norris, trailing at his heels.

Flattening herself against the cold stone, Catherine's curiosity got the better of her. She peeked between the griffin's wings, her pulse quickening. 

"Filthy troublemakers!" – the Caretaker's voice echoed down the corridor as he reached into the alcove and yanked someone out – "Always hiding in the shadows to do your dirty business! Cover yourself, you lewd girl!"

The dim light wasn't much help, but Catherine managed to make out the slightly dishevelled form of Marianne Trundle. The Hufflepuff didn't seem overly concerned by Filch's wrath. She calmly adjusted her uniform, glancing over her shoulder at her partner, whom the Caretaker was now roughly dragging into the light.

"Why is it always one of you wretched miscreants?" – he spat angrily – "I told Professor McGonagall you lot are out of control, but does she listen? She will now! Move!"

With a firm grip on Marianne's arm, Filch marched her and her companion down the hall, presumably toward McGonagall's office. Catherine pressed her forehead against the cool stone, trying to calm her pounding heart. Her ears rang, but she didn't need any more light to recognise the proud posture and devil-may-care attitude of the boy being led away.

Sirius Black.