Taming the True Fire (HP)

For weeks, Catherine regretted not going straight to dinner that night. On one hand, she had needed to help Lily get safely to their dormitory and change, but on the other, she missed what everyone was calling the most spectacular scene of the year. Apparently, Snape had stormed into the Great Hall and hit Lavinia Nott with a curse that made angry, red pimples erupt across her face, spelling out the word "Bitch." Without missing a beat, he had then marched to the Slytherin common room and did the same to Drusilla and Aelia.

The backlash in Slytherin House had been immediate. His housemates were both stunned and furious that Snape had attacked his own—and for a Mudblood, no less. Several senior Slytherins tried to force him to lift the curse, but he refused outright.

Catherine had to admit, she understood his reaction. She would have done the same. And truth be told, she was thoroughly enjoying seeing one of Hogwarts' so-called beauties caked in layers of makeup that couldn't hide the shameful word scrawled across her skin. Still, she couldn't help but feel a pang of relief that Snape hadn't tested that curse on her first.

'I should be more careful around him in the future.' - she thought – 'He's not one to mess around with.'

During their next Ancient Runes class, Catherine itched to ask the boy if Lily would be safe amid the escalating confrontation. But she had no idea how to start. The only time she ever spoke to him was to trade insults.

She glanced over at the wizard, hunched over his notebook, scribbling furiously with his broken quill that wobbled and left blotchy ink spots. His long, greasy hair hung over his face, masking all but the sharp curve of his hooked nose.

The girl took a deep breath, wracking her brain for a way to start a normal conversation with someone who truly hated her. She glanced at Snape again and froze. His right sleeve had slipped up as he wrote, exposing a line of blue bruises against his pale skin.

"Is this because you cursed Lavinia and her friends?" – she whispered, her fingers moving instinctively to trace the bruises on Snape's wrist. 

The wizard recoiled at her touch, his face draining of colour as he stared at the Gryffindor in disbelief. Realising they were still in the middle of class, he yanked his hand away, retreating as far as his chair would allow.

"It's none of your concern." - he hissed through gritted teeth.

"It is." – Catherine disagreed – "If they're this brutal with you, what do you think will happen to Lily if you keep refusing to lift the curse?"

"Nothing will happen to Lily." – Snape replied coldly, his eyes darkening – "I'll never let her be in danger. I'm not that fool McMahon. If they so much as look at her with malice, what I did to Lavinia will seem merciful."

Catherine nodded silently, at a loss for how to respond. As the class came to an end, the boy gathered his books and left without a single word or backward glance.

That Saturday, Catherine couldn't shake off thoughts of the incident or how brutal the Slytherins were to each other. It bothered her more than she wanted to admit. The black-haired girl was sitting in the courtyard with Remus and James, savouring one of the rare dry moments that month.

"You're doing it again." – James muttered, his irritation breaking the peaceful silence.

"Doing what?"- the young witch blinked, snapping out of her thoughts.

"Spacing out." – the boy snapped, casting a glance at Remus, who simply shrugged, unbothered by the quiet.

"I've got a lot on my mind." – she mumbled, unwilling to delve into details.

"Oh, you mean your little showdown with Duke McMahon?" – James quipped, his tone deliberately casual, though the curiosity was impossible to miss.

"It wasn't a showdown." – the witch replied evenly, her eyes fixed on the cobblestones – "Like I said, I'm just sick of pure-bloods getting all the privileges while Muggle-borns like me get targeted everywhere in this damn school."

The tense conversation was interrupted by Sirius and Marianne, who appeared holding hands and grinning goofily, only adding to Catherine's already sour mood.

"Why are you all looking like someone just unleashed a horde of Cornish Pixies?" – Sirius quipped as he sank onto a stone bench beside James, pulling the giggling Marianne onto his lap.

"That's oddly specific, mate." – James muttered, his laugh coming out strained. His eyes flicked to Catherine, who sat stiffly, her face locked in an expression of blank indifference.

"So, what's new around here?" – the grey-eyed boy asked with a grin – "Feels like I've missed quite a bit, but, you know, we've been... occupied."

"Don't say such things!" – Marianne chided, playfully smacking his hand. Sirius responded by drawing her into a heated kiss, completely unbothered by their audience. 

Catherine's stomach twisted. She stood up so abruptly, forcing a smile under Remus's concerned gaze, and cleared her throat. "Well, as fun as this has been, I need to go."

"Go? Where?" - James asked, eyebrows knitting together. The girl's voice came out louder than she intended, nearly cracking.

"I have a date to get ready for! See you around." She turned on her heel before anyone could respond, practically fleeing towards the castle.

"What date?!" - James shouted after her, his confusion echoing off the stone walls, but his classmate was already halfway across the courtyard.

'I can't believe I've sunk so low as to lie about a date.' – she fumed, racing up the stairs without a destination in mind - 'But I couldn't watch them snog any longer At this point, it's hard to tell if they're kissing or trying to clean each other. Absolutely revolting!'

The young witch shook her head, a mix of anger and frustration churning inside her. Leaving was the right call—staying any longer, and she might've lashed out at Sirius, Marianne, or both. But lying about going out with someone felt both humiliating and inconvenient, since it meant she couldn't return to the Common Room for a while.

For a brief moment, she considered checking on the potion in the Room of Requirement, but what good would that do? Standing around staring at a bubbling cauldron in her current state would only make her agitation worse. The truth was, there weren't many options. The young witch could retreat to the library and bury herself in books—likely deserted now with most older students in Hogsmeade, where they were allowed to visit monthly, unlike the third- and fourth-years.

Then an idea sparked. Catherine veered left, quickening her pace until she reached a grand mirror. Running her fingers along the ornate wooden frame, she found the hidden knob and twisted it. The mirror creaked forward, revealing just enough space for her to slip behind it and enter the passageway her brother had shown her weeks ago.

'Maybe I can use this chance to find a gift for Remus' birthday.' – the girl thought as she descended into the dark, damp underground path. The air was cool and smelled faintly of earth, each step echoing in the narrow corridor. It eventually opened up into a small crypt within the Hogsmeade graveyard. Catherine shivered, thinking how much she preferred the Honeydukes passage, as she quickly shut the iron gates behind her.

Stepping onto High Street, a thrill of exhilaration washed over the young witch, the fresh scent of rebellion sharpening her senses. To her surprise, she found herself enjoying the solitude. No one paid her any attention as she wandered from shop to shop, pausing occasionally to peer into a window. At Charms & Cozies, a sale sign caught her eye, and she couldn't resist a delightful enchanted blanket made of Yeti fur—self-warming, self-cleaning, and woven with a calming charm.

Pleased with her purchase, the girl decided to stop by The Three Broomsticks for a sandwich and butterbeer. She had just reached for the handle when the door suddenly swung open. Catherine stumbled back, nearly losing her balance as she came face-to-face with Adrian Borealis, who was leaving the pub, trailed by another wizard who was carrying several boxes.

The blood drained from her face. Her heart hammered violently, each beat a deafening crash in her ears, drowning out every other sound. Nausea twisted in the girl's stomach, and her legs threatened to buckle beneath her as she stared at the aristocrat, horror freezing her in place.

The Duke cast a casual glance over the figure before him. With her short black hair and slight frame, she could have easily been mistaken for a scrawny boy, a sight that made his lip curl in disdain. Adrian liked to surround himself with beauty, revelling in elegance and despising anything that fell short of his lofty standards. His face hardened, eyes narrowing as his lips pressed into a thin, displeased line. For a brief, tempting moment, he considered using magic to clear his path, but restrained himself. Doing so would risk Dumbledore's wrath and potentially provoke Raven O'Dargan into accusing him of interfering with wizarding education.

Instead, he snapped his fingers, a silent command that his assistant, Victor, obeyed immediately. The man stepped forward, shoving Catherine aside without a second thought, clearing the way for the Duke.

"Make way for His Grace, girl!" – Victor demanded firmly – "Hogwarts students these days have no manners."

"I wouldn't go that far." – Adrian chuckled as he walked past Catherine, barely sparing her a glance – "It's a community school, after all. The bar is quite low. Explains why McMahon sent his son here, I suppose."

Catherine felt a hot rush of blood flood back into her face. The fear melted away, replaced by a searing anger that threatened to consume her. She wanted nothing more than to set that smug, arrogant bastard on fire.

"What are you doing?" – the other wizard shouted, shoving the witch roughly – "I told you to move back!"

Adrian paused mid-stride, irritation flickering in his eyes as he glanced over his shoulder. Something wasn't right. The air around him felt thick, almost electric, like it was charged with raw power. It made the hair on his neck stand on end. He turned to look at the girl again, his brow furrowing. Was this energy coming from her? She looked positively furious, eyes blazing with a rage that didn't match her small, skinny frame.

For a split second, the aristocrat thought of Louisa at the party at his house last summer. Of course, this girl looked nothing like her; it was probably the colour of her eyes that reminded him of the Duchess. Still, the wizard felt a surge of curiosity. He was about to turn back and approach Victor and the student when a heavy rain began pouring out of nowhere, drenching everyone in an instant.

The unmistakable sense of the soul of the water enveloped the aristocrat, who turned slowly, a cold smile curling his lips. Greg McMahon stood less than two meters away, his eyes gleaming in blue and, despite the downpour, remaining perfectly dry.

Duke Borealis tapped into the spirit of air, weaving an intricate web of currents around himself. The rainwater was instantly deflected, and a warm gust dried his clothes and hair in moments.

"I see you're becoming quite the Water Mage." – Adrian drawled mockingly – "Pity you've taken after your father, especially in not knowing when to stop with these ridiculous pranks. Do you really think I'm one to laugh this off, or do you foolishly believe you're strong enough to challenge me?"

"Neither." – Greg replied calmly – "I know I don't stand a chance against you right now. But I also know the Council wouldn't be thrilled to hear about you bullying Hogwarts students."

The Duke blinked, momentarily caught off guard as he recalled the girl's presence. She stood soaked to the bone beside Victor, who was equally drenched. Adrian's lips twisted into a condescending grin. "Is that your concern?" - he sneered - "First of all, this is Hogsmeade. Surely you're aware that my ancestors founded this village? And secondly, asking the young lady to step aside hardly constitutes bullying."

"I wasn't aware 'asking' involved shoving someone." – the boy shot back frostily – "And while your ancestors might have founded Hogsmeade, it isn't your property. You are required to abide by the same rules as everyone else."

"You're walking on thin ice, Lord McMahon." – the Duke hissed, his patience fraying – "I might be forced to address your insolence in a more formal setting. After all, you've used elemental magic in a hostile manner against the Head of another House."

"Oh, I didn't know a little rain counted as hostility, Your Grace!" - A sly, Slytherin glimmer crossed Greg's eyes as he gave a knowing smirk - "Then again, such an inquiry might raise some interesting questions. Like why you're trying to intimidate a Muggle-born student at a time when people like her are being targeted by the self-proclaimed Lord. That could make things very complicated between Hogwarts and the Council, don't you think? Duke O'Dargan might view it as you encroaching on his domain."

The air currents intensified suddenly, swirling into a vortex that chased away the clouds, halting the downpour within seconds. Greg staggered back, gasping for breath, his eyes returning to their natural ocean-blue. Adrian Borealis watched him with a lazy smile, savouring the disturbed expression on Edward McMahon's son.

"Give my best regards to Duke McMahon." – the wizard said casually, gesturing for his assistant to follow – "I look forward to discussing your time at Hogwarts and all the 'friends' you've made there. I must admit, though, you've fallen short of expectations. At least your father has better taste in women."

With one last, contemptuous glance at Catherine, Adrian and Victor disapparated with a sharp crack. The young witch stood there, dripping wet, but that didn't trouble her nearly as much as the look on her brother's face—shock, anger, and sheer disappointment.

"Greg…I…" – she began, but the fifth-year grabbed her arm, dragging her, until they reached the Hog's Head and sneaked around the corner, into its secluded, grimy backyard.

"I suppose there's no point asking why you're here when you were supposed to be in the castle." - he muttered, avoiding her gaze - "I know you don't care about the risks Mom, Dad, and I take to keep you safe. But I had hoped you'd at least be smart enough to do it for your own sake."

"That's not true!" – Catherine stuttered, her face flushing – "I wasn't trying to put myself in danger! I just needed to get out. How was I supposed to know I'd run into him? It could've happened during one of my authorised visits, too!"

"No, it couldn't have!" - Greg snapped, his voice trembling with rage - "After last time, we took extra precautions. But we weren't prepared today because we had no idea you'd be here!"

"Stop talking about my life like I'm some toddler who needs constant supervision!" – the young witch hissed, irritated - "Nothing happened! It was just a stupid coincidence."

"You're worse than a toddler!" - Greg sneered, his face twisted in fury - "At least a toddler stays in a playpen! I can't believe how reckless you are! And the worst part? You have no remorse! When will you accept that you don't know everything and that your judgment isn't always right?!"

"I never said I knew everything!" - she shot back, her eyes blazing a bright green - "But it's a lot more than you ever give me credit for!"

"You know what?" - Greg yelled, his voice raw with anger - "I'm done cutting you slack because of your 'special circumstances.' You're not the only one who's had it rough! I've seen you show restraint with others, but never with me or at home! I'm sick of being blamed for 'mistreating' you when all I've ever done is be a loving, supportive brother!"

A nearby puddle erupted, sending chunks of ice hurtling toward Catherine. She reacted instinctively, summoning a wall of red flames to melt the ice to steam. But before she could catch her breath, a powerful gust of wind swept her off her feet, flinging her to the ground. A thud and Greg's muffled cry followed as he was tossed aside in a similar fashion.

"What in Merlin's name do you think you're doing?!" – Carter Thorne's furious voice boomed through the backyard.