musical mood: voulez vous - abba

"What the fuck?" She stared at him in disbelief, blinking rapidly. Surely her eyes were deceiving her, or this was a Boggart, or a ghost, or a hallucination. But when she continued to watch the man in front of her, and he didn't disappear, she realised he was, in fact, real. "What the fuck?!"

"Be quiet." He said, his tone nothing like how she remembered it to be. While it had been years since she'd last seen the dead man walking, he'd changed more significantly than she thought possible. He no longer wore a turban, it being replaced with long blonde hair, about the same length as Henry's had once been, and had lost a considerable amount of weight, but it was without a doubt still him.

"What the fuck?!" She repeated once more, running a hand through her hair and taking a step backwards. "You're supposed to be dead! How are you not dead?"

"I think you know the answer to that, Cassiopeia." He gave her a sad smile, and he was right. She did know the answer.

"Blood Magic." She whispered. Of course, of fucking course. It always came back to Blood Magic, in the end. Everything did.

"I'm Bound to the Dark Lord. That Bind didn't end in your first year when Harry Potter defeated me. My body was returned to me in 1995, when the Dark Lord's body became his again. It's near impossible to break a Bind, which you would know, if you ever did read that book you stole from me."

She took yet another step backwards, shaking her head rapidly. "What do you want from me?"

"You're Bound as well, to your brother. I'm here to help you be set free. Help us be set free." He said it so matter-of-factly, so plain and out in the open, it made Cass frown. "Assuming you want to be free from your brother."

"I want it more than anything in the world." She breathed, her heart racing. Was this real? Surely she'd gone mad, the death of Alastor had been the thing to do her in. She'd gone mad and now she was hallucinating her dead professor. Yet, she still continued to talk to the hallucination, desperate for answers. "How...how did you find me? How are you here? I don't understand."

"There will be plenty of time for questions later, Cassiopeia. If you want to break the Bond, you'll have to come with me. Now. Before anyone notices you're gone."

"Where?"

He shook his head, blonde hair flopping about as he did. It was odd, seeing his hair, when he'd had a turban for the time she'd known him. A turban that had contained the darkest wizard of all time. While unwillingly, he had helped You-Know-Who, and now wanted to take her somewhere, alone.

"I'll explain everything when we leave, I swear. But we need to go." His eyes were wide with what seemed to be earnest begging. There was no ulterior motive she could sense in his expression, in his tone.

But, if there was, what would it do? He could hurt her, but she didn't care in the slightest. If anything, Cass craved the pain, craved a feeling that wasn't emotional turmoil. He couldn't kill her - and if what he was saying was true, that he wanted to break their Bonds, she could finally kill herself.

There was nothing left for her there.

Nothing except George.

But George didn't need her to protect him. He was surrounded by good people. For once, Cass needed to fully and truly put herself and her own interests first, like she had done as a young child. She needed to set aside her doubts, and put her full trust in the undead man in front of her.

"I don't have a wand." She eventually said.

"That's fine. You won't need one."

"Right. Let's get going, then."

Quirrell's eyes widened, like he hadn't quite believed what she'd said.

"You really want to go?"

"I don't think you understand the lengths I will go to, to kill my brother." To kill myself. "I'd do anything for him to die." I'd do anything for me to die. To join the people I love. To see them again, to end my suffering.

He nodded, and extended his hand out for her to touch. An offering. She did, and the moment her skin grazed his, they were apparated away.

*

Cass recognised where they were immediately - it would've been hard to not recognise where she had been with Connor, on the night they'd chose to run away together, on one of the last days of his too-short life. Bournemouth, a port town. A town that led to France.

They were in the southernmost point of England, in a relatively secluded park. The busy streets were nearby, the loud sounds and flashing lights of cars and busses overwhelming her senses.

"Why are we here?" She asked Quirrell as she glanced around the area, half expecting a swarm of Death Eaters to appear and take her away. But none came. It was just the two of them.

Perhaps it was stupid of her, to come with Quirrell, impulsive. But she didn't envision another option for her.

He didn't answer her, instead, went on a tangent, his soft voice full of emotional agony. "I was foolish, Cassiopeia, to have Bound myself to the Dark Lord. He had made a promise to me, that I would see my beloved Barty again, if I simply allowed him to temporarily have access to my body. I didn't understand the extent of what it meant. By the time I did, by the time I discovered that book, it was too late."

She frowned. "Discovered that book? Was it not yours?"

He shook his head. "It was Barty's, only the items inside were my own. The Dark Lord gave the book to me, as a gift. More importantly, to explain to me what Blood Magic was, though by that time, it was too late. I was already Bound to him. It was then that I realised Barty must be alive, and that I had Bound myself to him for nothing. Now, not only was I immortal, but so was the Dark Lord. If we break our bonds, he can be killed."

"You wanted to bring Barty back to life?"

"Yes. I was foolish, to attempt to cheat death. But I was desperate, so desperate, to bring him back, that I was willing to do anything. When I went to Albania, the summer before your first year, I had planned on tracking down the Dark Lord and killing him. But when I had found him, he offered me a deal. He'd bring back Barty, if I Bound our souls. Then, after reading the book, and knowing Barty had owned it, I knew he was alive. The Dark Lord had complete control over me, though, and when he found the book was stolen, he did everything in his power to eliminate you. He knew Barty had used Blood Magic on you, he knew you couldn't die, but you could be unconscious, and that was the only option, in case you figured our secret out. That is why I poisoned you. I had no desire to hurt you, Cassiopeia, and I'm sorry for any trauma that must have inflicted."

Cass thought back to that time, in her first year. She'd been so scared, for a long amount of time after, so paranoid. She'd swapped drinks with George before, afraid they were poisoned, she'd carried around potions that could cure poisons, all because of Quirrell. Because of You-Know-Who. Not Quirrell. It wasn't his fault. He was a lovesick fool, that was all. Assuming he was telling the truth, that was.

Would she have done the same, for Henry or Connor or Ana or Alastor or Cedric or Bartemius, if she thought there was a way to bring them back from the dead? If she had been offered a way to bring the people she loved back, she genuinely didn't know what she would do.

Eventually, she took a deep breath, looking up to meet his eye. "What exactly is the plan, Quirrell? You want to break our Bonds, but how?"

"I want to find Mopsus. The author of Blood Magic."

"Mopsus is dead." She shook her head.

His brow furrowed together. "No, he isn't. Where did you hear that from?"

"...Barty."

A small smile crept onto his lips. "Exactly. He lied to you, or is misinformed himself. Mopsus is very much alive, and very much immortal. He's been alive for over a millennium. Several thousand years, actually."

"Where do we find him?"

"Albania."

"Bloody Albania...what is it with dark magic and Albania?" Cass muttered under her breath. "And how are we to get there? How are we to find him?"

"We can't use magic, not if we don't want to be found. International laws are different around magic, so we can't apparate, or use our wands, or anything of the sorts. We'll have to walk, take trains, hitchhike. Whatever it takes. The Dark Lord must die, and your brother must die."

"I thought you loved him. Why do you want him dead?"

"I did love him. But not this version of him. The Barty I loved is gone. Dead. That has been made very clear to me with his actions. I thought, maybe, what happened with the Longbottom's, that he was forced into it. That he wasn't to blame. But he killed his father, he got Cedric Diggory killed, all of his own volition."

Neither of them said anything for a long moment.

"I'm choosing to trust you, Quirrell, because I don't see another option for me." Cass eventually said, her eyes fixed on her former professor. "You better not let me down."

*

They took a train to France, deeming it safer than a taxi. They were less likely to be found, if the blended in, if they hid in plain sight.

"Barty might find us." Cass told Quirrell, her voice low so no one around them could overhear. "He might know where we're going, and try to track us down."

"If we don't use magic, we'll be fine."

"He can tell who I'm with, though. He was able to tell I was with Connor, and Henry." A blush creeped onto her face when she thought about Barty essentially walking in on her and Henry after they'd slept together.

Quirrell shook his head. "Cassiopeia, you were hit by the killing curse in the battle at Hogwarts, weren't you?"

"How do you know that?"

"I've been watching you for a while." Was all he said. How he was watching her, she had no idea, and apparently, he had no intention of explaining.

"That isn't creepy at all."

"Anyways, your Bond with Barty has been weakened, after being hit by the killing curse. He won't be able to see you. He won't be able to project himself into your mind, as he was able to before."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded, smiling ever so slightly. "I'm positive, Cassiopeia. I understand you don't trust me, and that's fine. But trust me on this. I want nothing more than my freedom, and I figured I owed it to you to help you gain yours as well. When the Dark Lord is mortal again, I will be content."

"Cass."

"What?"

"Call me Cass. No one calls me Cassiopeia. Except Alastor." She bit down on her tongue at the mention of her dad.

It was fine, at the end of the day. It was horrible, but it was fine. She'd be with him soon enough. Once the Bond she shared with Barty was broken, Cass would finally be able to end her life, she'd be able to join all her loved ones.

"Right. Cass. I overheard what happened to Moody. I'm sorry for your loss. I know he meant a lot to you."

"He did." She agreed with a nod. "How long have you been following me for? And how? I haven't seen you, or your patronus anywhere near me."

"Since I gained my body back, at the end of your fourth year. I'm a Seer. I could watch you without being there."

She shook her head, a laugh escaping her. "That's bloody creepy, Quirrell. I was a kid."

"I wasn't watching you like that, for fucks sake! I'm not a bloody pedophile. I just...I wanted to get you alone. So we could talk, so we could help each other. But the opportunity never struck, and I was worried Barty might somehow see me, through your Bond. When you were hit by the curse though, when the Bond was weakened, I took my chance. As horrible as it was that Moody was killed, it was also an opportunity for me, because there was no way in hell that man would've let you come with me otherwise. He loved you too much to risk such a thing."

"If he hadn't been killed, I likely wouldn't have come either." Cass admitted. "I would've thought you mad. I still do think you're a bit mad, if I'm being honest. But...I have nothing to lose, and everything to gain. If you're being truthful, that is."

"I am. I swear it, Cass."

*

Cass wished she had packed. Wished she had been better prepared for what was likely going to be a several weeks long journey. Now, she was going to be stuck in the same sweaty clothes, without so much as a hairbrush or a bar of soap.

Quirrell had packed the essentials, though. He'd brought a generous amount of money in various currencies, since they wouldn't be able to transform them. He brought language dictionaries, so they could communicate with the locals of the various countries they would have to travel though to Albania. He brought food, though nothing very healthy, and most importantly, he brought a tent, and two sleeping bags.

Hotels were too expensive, and too risky, he said. If people knew they were missing from Great Britain, and tried to find them, a hotel would be the first place they'd look. When they were further away from the island country, maybe they could splurge, but not now.

"Do you have a map?" Cass asked as she ate a granola bar. They were inside the tent, at a French campground near the Channel, trying to cool off from the sweltering hot weather. Neither of them were tired, despite it being about five in the morning, so instead of resting, they sat up, discussing their plan. "Or are we just going to wing it? Because I'm not very knowledgeable in geography."

"Yes, Cass, I brought a map." He rolled his eyes, reaching into his magically extended bag, and pulling out a map. "It's enchanted, see? It shows exactly where we are, at any given point."

She looked down at the map of Europe he had brought. He was correct, there was a tiny red dot at their exact location. "And do you know Mopsus's exact location? Or do you just know he's in Albania?"

He shook his head. "I don't. But he can't be that hard to find. With my Seeing ability, and a friend I have in Albania, we should be able to find him with ease."

"I bloody hope so. I'm not about to spend months trekking in some foreign country looking for some centuries old wizard."

To her surprise, he laughed at this. "Don't worry, Cass. It won't take long. You'll be back to George soon enough."

At the mention of George, she stiffened, but didn't say anything about him. Instead, when she spoke, it was about You-Know-Who. "When you break your Bond with You-Know-Who, will he be mortal?"

"No, he won't. He has more things keeping him immortal than just our Binds. But it will make him significantly weaker."

"Does Barty have more things keeping him immortal? Or is it just Blood Magic?"

"It's just Blood Magic, as far as I know. I doubt Barty has the capabilities to create a horcrux. It involves, well...horrible things. You'll know about them if you read Blood Magic. I don't think even someone as mad as him would have it in him to do it."

She gulped, not sure if she wanted to know the details. "Is it worse than Blood Magic? Worse than the blood ritual I read about? Because I stopped reading after those, I couldn't stomach it."

"You couldn't stomach it? The blood rituals aren't that bad."

"Not that bad?! I was thirteen! It scared the living daylights out of me. Besides, I was a bit more concerned with the bloody love letters I found at the time."

"Ah, yes, I imagine that was quite a shock, to find out that the man who tried to kill you was having an affair with your dead brother."

She snorted. "You can say that again."

A silence fell between the two.

"You know, Cass, you really resemble your mother."

"Come again?"

"I don't know. Now that I look at you...wow, you look just like her. Diana, was her name, correct?"

"Yeah." A smile crept onto her lips before she could stop it. "I've never been told that before. It's always been that I look like Barty, not her."

Quirrell studied her for a moment, eyes going over her face like an artist studying a painting. "Well, you do look like him as well, but not so much as your mother. It's uncanny, really."

"Thank you."

"For?"

"For seeing me as more than my brother. It's...refreshing. I'm sick of it, I'm sick of him and being compared to him."

"I can imagine."

"I want him dead, Quirrell. He's ruined my life. He killed my best friend. He killed Connor, and Cedric, and Bartemius, and he likely killed Ana too. I want him dead, and then I'm going to kill Theodore too. I'm going to kill them both, with my bare hands."

She expected him to be surprised by the sudden fury that overtook her - she sure was, after all, but instead, he simply patted her on the shoulder, a brotherly gesture. "I would expect no less from you."