***

***

NEWS OF MARYAM AHMED AND THE FACT SHE SLAPPED DRACO MALFOY certainly had evaporated throughout the school in the coming days. Not only had she shouted in Graham Montague's face the morning of the Quidditch match, snatched the Quaffle out of his hands during the game and apologised on behalf of her own team's nuisance behaviour, but she'd slapped the Slytherin golden boy. People had begun to gather that Maryam Ahmed was a force to be reckoned with. She had, actually, been commended by Fred and George Weasley — the eccentric twins had gone up to Maryam in the Hospital Wing the next day and personally offered their respects. Safe to say, they each had a mutual hatred for the Malfoy boy.

     But no reaction had ever beat that of Daphne Greengrass's, the moment she found out Harry Potter had asked her twin sister on a date. The older Greengrass (by seven minutes, just remember), had begun jumping up on Cassia's dorm room bed with a shout of "Holy fuck Cassia!". It was probable that even those boys in the dormitories the other end from the girls could have heard the excited Greengrass's yell. It was loud. One could have thought Daphne was even happier than Cassia herself.

Yet it seemed to be Theodore Nott that had to repeatedly sneak glances of his best friend while they continued with their affairs in the library. It was a little over a week since the deed had happened and Harry asked Cassia Greengrass on a date around December time, and she and Theo were in the library, with the excuse of their homework preceding them. O.W.L work was plentiful, and wouldn't get done itself.

Neither would the investigation into the supposed tale of Enoch Abercrombie... a man who'd divorced his wife so abruptly and without explanation that their only daughter had to live with the mystery of her parents separating for a reason completely unheard of, a man who was admittedly selfish and benefited others solely for his own advantage, who was apparently seen in the graveyard the night Lord Voldemort was brought back to life. Yet he had never been convicted in his life of having any allegiances with the Death Eaters. It was strange, and had so many unfilled gaps, and none of it added up. Or rather, nothing backed it up.

For all they knew, a man capable of the things Enoch could do would be able to be a Death Eater — yet anything in the theorised evidence of the library, where so many of his old Governor meeting archives, files and articles laid, collecting dust, seemed to say nothing regarding the matter. The archives section was empty of people, pretty much. That was until the moment Cassia Greengrass decided to go up to Madam Pince and ask: "Would you be able to show me where the Governor Archives are?" The frowning woman had given the Slytherin a weirded out look, but showed her anyways.

(The place where all the archives were kept was, without a doubt, the quietest place in the library. And it was growing less and less dusty with the amount of time Cassia was spending in it. It's become her new place to study, because of how peaceful it is compared to the rest of the "quiet" library. Even Theo joined her, agreeing that there was no better place for him to finish that blasted Transfiguration essay.)

     "Why so frowny?" Theodore asks his best friend, sat opposite him on the same table. Since that section of the library was practically abandoned, there was no issue in finding desk space, so rather than sharing the same side of the desk, they sat opposite each other. More desk room. You know, personal space.

     But it's not like Cassia Greengrass's best friend was even wrong. The euphoria within her when Harry Potter asked her out didn't seem to be making an appearance as of now because, Cassia, absorbed with her investigation — which didn't seem to prove anything as the hours ticked on — had a whole arrangement of files sprawled out across her messily, ranging from news articles, official meeting files, notes, et cetera. It wasn't any of the top secret hidden documentation, as that was all locked up, obviously. This was just the stuff that Dumbledore and the Governors of Hogwarts put on display in the library for evidence of their productivity and for evidence of their motives. So people can be in the know. But none of this information, as detailed as it were, showed any sort of clue that could prove if Enoch Abercrombie was a Death Eater.

The question asked by Theo lingers in Cassia's mind for a minute as she tries to process the following information in a messily written record, in a file dedicated to all the Death Eater-related happenings following the Death Eater sightings at the Quidditch World Cup of 1994.

Governor Abercrombie proposes to have students staying in Hogwarts under Auror protection due to the latest Death Eater attack at the Quidditch World Cup...

Auror protection... Auror protection? Why would a man who was supposedly seen posing as a Death Eater offer to protect students from said Death Eaters? It's a phrase that occurred in Cassia's mind for a long while now, but none of it made any sense...

Cassia groans, harshly dropping the quill she was using to track her lines while reading down onto the splayed arrangement of documents. Her auburn hair was tied up into a swift ponytail (a sign that she was serious), her eyes were dropping with frustration (a sign that she was tired), and she cradles her forehead in her hands, her elbows against the desk (a sign that she wanted answers). Hours, weeks, months of research, and nothing. Absolutely nothing. She was this close to giving up and calling it quits. But she knew she couldn't. She owed it to Eva to find out the truth about her father.

"You okay?" asks Theo, an eyebrow raised at Cassia's attempt to subside her rage.

"Yes," says Cassia. She inhales sharply.

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am." Cassia looks up, and her eyes were firm and convincing, even if the dark bags weren't.

"You've tied your hair up," says Theo.

"Yes, I have."

"You don't normally tie up your hair?"

Cassia narrows her eyes. Theo shrugs.

"What?" says Theo. "When someone's friends with you as long as I've been, you pick up certain things."

"Okay?" says Cassia.

"And like how you've begun wearing makeup more."

Cassia raises an eyebrow. "And do you have a problem with that?"

Theo shakes his head. "None at all."

Cassia gives him a look. She shrugs. "It's because of Daphne and Eva. Since the summer, I've gotten into a weird habit now of wearing a small amount of makeup. I'm surprised to say I don't hate wearing it anymore."

"It's not a bad thing," says Theo. "If I could pull off wearing mascara, then I definitely would."

Cassia frowns. "But you don't even need it. Guys already have really long eyelashes. It's annoying."

Theo grins. "You don't need it either. You've always looked good, anyways. Even if I always take the mickey out of you. It's just my job."

Cassia chuckles, her eyebrows narrowing. This conversation was weird.

"If we're still on the topic of noticing things," says Cassia, grinning craftily, "I've noticed that you've started wearing hair gel in the last year."

"Great observation," Theo remarks sardonically.

     Cassia laughs. It astounds her how this boy always manages to make her laugh, even when she seemed most down, stressed or occupied. He truly was her best friend. The ruthless banter, cruel jokes and mocking criticism between them could never take away the fact that deep down, the two of them loved each other to bits and would do absolutely anything for the other.

"I take it it's not going well, then?" Theo presumes, a hand faintly gesturing to the load of papers splashed across her side of the desk. "You know, given the amount of frustrated swearing, groaning and eye squinting you're doing."

Cassia pauses for a second, about to speak. And then sighs, her shoulders sagging down. "No, it hasn't," she says, "I practically have nothing. Like, I'm trying to look into stuff from before, when all the Death Eater stuff first began at the Quidditch World Cup last year in case there's anything to do with Enoch, but there seems to be nothing. Like, from what the papers say, Enoch Abercrombie is practically an angel in public." She surveys her eyes over a picture of him in the Daily Prophet from, like, a governor award or something, her eyes widening. "He certainly looks like an angel. That jawline."

Theo narrows his eyes before bending over to see just what had marvelled the mind of Cassia's, and his eyes widen too. "Whoa," he breathes, "You're right. That jawline is godly." But then Theo frowns as he looks deeper into the photo. "His... his eyes... they're like... they're like ice..."

"I know," Cassia says, nodding, "Exact same as Eva's. Like, it's as if they've been carved directly from ice." She notices Theo still fretting over the picture, and her expression grows more puzzled. "What's wrong?"

Theo takes an extra second to process Cassia's words, being so thoughtfully ingrained within the article, and then shakes his head. He snatched the article, seemingly engrossed with something in the bottom corner.

"Nothing..." says Theo, warily, "I'm trying to figure out this puzzle... the crossword in the Daily Prophet."

"Okay...?"

Cassia wasn't really sure what use a year-old Daily Prophet crossword would be to Theo, but, each to their own, she reminds herself. But her attention is garnered when Theo flips the newspaper over and a sheet of paper slides out from beneath it... with another attachment. There was an article on the other side, and two sheets that were folded within it, which, from what Cassia gathers, were the main reasons as to why that edition of the Daily Prophet were in that month's case file. She got curious.

"Can I see this for a second—"

"Hey—!" Theo cries out, as the newspaper flies from beneath his grip courtesy of Cassia, who also fumbled to pick up the other two sheets that fell out of it. Theo's eyebrows crease in a frown as he watches Cassia reading the newspaper she just snatched from him.

The Slytherin girl is at first confused when she reads the article, thinking it seems a bit outdated. Then she has to remind herself that this happened over a year ago — the exact date of the attack at the Quidditch World Cup. She reads the article.

IMPRISONED DEATH EATER MIDLOTHIAN MANSON FOUND DEAD IN HIS CELL AT AZKABAN

Article by Maggie Brandle,
Wizard News Reporter

MIDLOTHIAN MANSON, previously convicted and imprisoned Death Eater, (pictured above), has been found at his demise in his cell at Azkaban. The ex-Death Eater, age fifty-eight at his time of death, passed away on the same night as the Quidditch World Cup final. It is unsure whether there's any link between the Death Eater sighting following Ireland's win at the World Cup and Manson's death — the reason for death is unknown, apart from Manson being left by the Dementors once it had been made clear there was no longer any soul present within his body.

Midlothian Manson was responsible for the Death of his only son, Argyle Manson, under the pretence that in his pureblooded family, it was unacceptable to have a Squib such as Argyle. His wife passed away a few years later due to a rare cancer. Alongside the murder of his son, Midlothian Manson was responsible for leaking the whereabouts of the McKinnon family, who were murdered by Lord Voldemort when he was at large previously. He was also responsible for the murders of eighteen Muggles at a Church congregation in 1980.

He was most infamous for the way he would murder his victims. He specialised in a rare form of spiritual dark magic, where he would cause his victims severe pain and blood-boiling until they reached the point of begging, where he would relieve them of their pain by killing them. He was caught by Aurors in 1981 following the demise of Lord Voldemort and sent to Azkaban for life imprisonment.

There has not been any information yet on his cause of death or his will, but those are being investigated. In the meantime, Wizards and Witches are advised to stay vigilant under the premise of unforeseen attacks and Death Eater presences.

"You're frowning again," says Theo.

"So were you, a second ago," Cassia replies absently, the newspaper ruffling as she set it down, searching the desk for the papers that came with it.

"Only because I was in the middle of a crossword—!"

Cassia didn't have time to listen to him. She was already deep into reading the next piece of evidence.

STATEMENT BY CHIEF WIZARD INVESTIGATOR HARRISON HOLLINGSWORTH

Following the death of Midlothian Manson, it has been discovered that at the time of death, his soul wasn't present in that of his demised body. When a prisoner dies in Azkaban, it's soul is normally sucked by a Dementor, but at the outset of Manson's death, the Dementors discovered that there was no soul present in the first place to devour. It's normal for a soul to remain inside its host body for around four days at the most following death. This leads the Investigation team to believe that something occurred to Midlothian Manson before he died that meant his body was dead — but his soul remained intact and may have travelled elsewhere. The Wizarding Investigation department are yet to delve into this matter further.

Cassia frowns again. She reads the final sliver of paper, much more shorter than the rest.

MATTER RAISED BY HOGWARTS GOVERNOR ENOCH ABERCROMBIE

"Now can you tell me what's going on?"

     "Here," says Cassia, slowly passing on the files to Theo as she tries to get everything clear in her head. So, a year ago, Midlothian Manson, a deranged Dark Magic user, was found dead in his cell but without a soul for the dementors to suck. The Chief Wizard Investigator gave a statement saying they are unsure as to how it happened since the soul usually stays in a body at first after someone's death, whereas Manson's was gone when they found him... and above all, Enoch Abercrombie was the one to have gone to the Investigations Department to gather the statement from the Chief, and it was Enoch who raised this matter at the Governors meeting a year ago. Huh...

     "Wait, you didn't hear about Manson's death?" Theo asks, somewhat incredulously. "He was, like, a psychopath. Everyone was either shocked or glad when he died."

     Cassia purses her lips. "I mean, I probably did hear about it. But... I have a weird feeling. Like, I'm intrigued. What happened to his soul? Why had it gone before it could get all dementor-ized, or whatever?"

     Theo frowns. "Why would dementors suck out a dead soul anyways?"

     "Appetisers?" suggests Cassia.

     "Fair enough."

     Cassia grins. "Just because a body is dead, doesn't mean a soul is. The soul is still present in the body for a few days before, well, dying, or getting sucked by a dementor. Or..." She takes a sceptical glance back at the paper, and at the man with the vicious eyes and piercing snarl, "... going elsewhere."

     Theo frowns. "Going elsewhere? What do you mean by that?"

     Cassia presses her lips into a thin line. "I don't know."

———

THE COLDNESS OF THE SCHOOL GROUNDS WAS beginning to feel more and more unbearable. It was mid-November, and the crunch of snow willowed beneath anyone's heavy snow boots as they trudged with difficulty through the inches of piling snow, the bitter frost hanging in the atmosphere and breath being frozen in fog anytime anyone spoke. Cassia had even taken to wearing tights now rather than the cute frilly socks Marlowe had initially bought for her. Not the scratchy cotton tights that get caught in nearly any item possible and have an abundance of fluff attached to it within an hour, but the smooth, soft tights that are kinda see-through but still warm enough.

Anyways, today is the first lesson of Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid back at the steering wheel. Cassia won't lie, she's a bit worried when she realises their class is nearing the Forbidden Forest. Like it hasn't already been said, she does have a bit of a fear of said Forest, and her detentions with Hagrid the previous year hadn't eased that fear in any sort of way. Not to mention the fact there was like, a dead, raw cow on his back? And that he had yellowing bruises all across his brutish face. Was Hagrid okay?

     "We're workin' in here today!" says Hagrid cheerfully.

     "Oh, dear god," Cassia mutters, releasing a large sigh.

     Theo nudges Cassia from beside her, a knowing smirk on his face. "Is someone a little scared of the Forest?"

     Cassia scowls. "You didn't have to spend detention in there and nearly get burnt to death by a dragon."

     "What?"

     "Remember when I had to spend detention in the Forest with Hagrid last year after helping out the Weasley twins with their little stunt? One of the days we had to go to the enclosure where they were keeping the dragons for the Tournament, and a Hungarian Horntail nearly killed me."

     "You didn't tell me this!"

     "I couldn't!" Cassia tells him. "I was sworn to secrecy by Charlie Weasley and promised not to tell anyone. No one could know about the First Task."

     Theo frowns. "Charlie Weasley—?"

     "It doesn't matter," says Cassia, "Point is, it was terrifying. I was pretty sure I was going to faint, until," Harry grabbed onto my hand... "Until I managed to leave."

     Theo still looks confused.

     "Ready?" says Hagrid to the class, grinning. "Right, well, I've bin savin' a trip inter the Forest fer yer fifth year. Now, what we're studyin' today is pretty rare, I reckon I'm probably the on'y person in Britain who's managed ter train them."

     "And you're sure they're trained, are you?" says Malfoy, evidently frightened. "Only it wouldn't be the first time you'd brought wild stuff to class, would it?"

     "And I'm the scared one?" Cassia says to Theo, a finger discretely directed to the Malfoy boy. Theo grins. Either way, most of the class seemed to agree with what Draco had to say this way round.

     "Course they're trained," Hagrid grunts.

     "So what happened to your face then?" Malfoy demands loudly.

     "Mind yer own business! Now, if yeh've finished askin' stupid questions, follow me!"

     Cassia reluctantly follows the rest of the class into the Forest, and she grabs onto Theo's arm, interlinking them. Maybe because it was cold, but maybe because she hates the Forest. Both work. Hagrid brought them into a place where the tall, fern trees proved so much coverage over the leafy forest floor from the sky that there was near-enough no snow visible in the dark patch of Forest. Dark, cold, and gloomy. And half a dead cow. How lovely.

     "Gather roun', gather roun'," says Hagrid, beckoning the class with his large arms. "Now, they'll be attracted by the smell o' the meat but I'm goin' ter give 'em a call anyways, 'cause they'll like ter know it's me."

Hagrid turns to the trees and does this really weird screeching sound, that was sure to have everyone's eardrums quaking. But nothing happened, and nothing came to them. And she can feel Theo shifting his position while her arm had been in his, and finds that he's staring into a blank space between two trees. He didn't seem to be the only one — Blaise from beside Cassia had also averted his gaze that way, and so had Harry, a short stretch away from them. But there was nothing there?

The class are expectant as to what exactly were meant to appear. But Theo and Blaise continue to look around, their facial expressions contorted with... disgust? It was as if they, Harry, and Neville Longbottom apparently, had seen something entirely different to them?

"Oh, an' here comes another one!" Hagrid exclaims. "Now... put yer hands up, who can see 'em!"

"See what?" Cassia thinks out loud.

Theo frowns. "You can't see them?" Blaise also looks their way.

"See what?"

"The animals..." says Blaise, "The big black animals... walking about and eating the cow. Quite ugly, may I add."

"There's no animals?" Cassia points out.

"But there is...?" Theo says confusedly, and puts his hand up. So did Blaise, Harry and Neville. They were the only ones in the class, along with Hagrid himself, that could see the "animals". Weird.

Looking around, Hagrid takes a note of those with their hands up. "Yeah, yeah... I knew you'd be able ter, Harry... An' you too, Neville, eh? An' Nott, an' Zabini as well?"

"Excuse me," says Malfoy. "But what exactly are we supposed to be seeing?"

Hagrid points to the corpse of the cow, which was being stripped bare of its raw meat... Cassia's eyes widen. How is that happening? Something invisible was eating at it? What—?

"What's doing it?" Parvati Patil squeals, terrified. "What's eating it?"

"Thestrals," answers Hagrid, brimming with pride. Cassia furrows her eyebrows. Theo hums in understanding. "Hogwarts has got a whole herd of 'em in here. Now, who knows—?"

"But they're really, really unlucky!" says Parvati. "They're supposed to bring misfortune on anyone who can see them. Professor Trelawney told me once—"

"No, no, no," says Hagrid with a hearty chuckle. "Tha's just superstition, that is, they aren' unlucky, they're dead clever an' useful! Course, this lot don' get a lot of work, it's mainly jus' pullin' the school carriages unless Dumbledore's takin' a long journey and don' want ter Apparate — an' here's another couple, look—"

Hagrid points over to the clearing, and Cassia still couldn't see anything come out. She turns to Theo.

"How come you can see them!" asks Cassia.

Theo averts his gaze from the clearing to look at Cassia. "Only people who've seen death happen can see Thestrals. I didn't know these were Thestrals, though."

"Oh?"

"I saw my gran die," Theo explains. "What about you, Blaisey?"

"My third step-dad," says Blaise.

     Cassia nods, feeling slightly more in-the-know. Maybe a bit uneasy that they'd seen someone die. That meant Harry would obviously be able to see them... and Neville? That's a bit of a surprise, if anything...

     Out of nowhere, Theo's expression startles and his eyes are wide open, and his face has blanched. Cassia turns to him, bewildered.

     "Theo?" says Cassia, warily. "What is it?"

     He lifts a shaky finger up to behind Cassia, his face terror-filled. "The Thestral... it's running your way!"

     Cassia gasps sharply, spinning around rapidly and yelping when a figure jumps at her. She also squirms when two pairs of fingers prod her ribs, tickling her ruthlessly. Her heartbeat is drumming against her chest, but she's fuming when the "Thestral" turned out to be Blaise fucking Zabini and that it was Theo who'd taken to tickling her. Cassia's face drops.

     "You idiots!" says Cassia, wriggling away from Theo. Him and Blaise have erupted into laughter in the Forest floor, attracting the attention of those students around him. "You absolute idiots!"

     Theo and Blaise were still laughing. Cassia didn't find this funny, though.

     "Fuck off. Fuck right off." She pushes them away from being able to squeeze her on each side with their giddy laughter, and they stumble over. They were still laughing. She turns away, "Have I mentioned I hate you—!"

Cassia gasps as she walks right into someone's chest in the midst of turning around. Her stomach lurches when she realises it was Harry, completely taken aback by her sudden stumble, yet still with such a tenderness held within his pristine emerald eyes.

Harry frowns, as Cassia stiffly moves away from him, no longer pressed against his chest.

"You hate me?" asks Harry, the corners of his mouth dropping. Cassia inwardly smacks her forehead and makes a note to murder Theo and Blaise later on.

     "No!" says Cassia, sighing. "I don't hate you. I hate them." She points to the two Slytherin boys, beside themselves with amusement.

     "Oh," Harry's head perks backwards. "Okay. Um — your scarf — er — fell..." Cassia's scarf, striped with green and silver, had in fact dropped onto the ground, and she hadn't realised. Harry bends down and picks it up, the scarf trailing from his fingers as he hands it over to her. She smiles.

     "Thanks, Harry." Cassia brushes the leaves off of the scarf, wrapping it back around her neck. She didn't even bother to look back to see either of the Slytherin males' reactions.

     "Er — you can't see the Thestrals, can you?"

     "No," Cassia answers, shaking her head. She frowns. "You can, though, right?"

     "Yeah," says Harry. He looks behind at Blaise and Theo, and asks them a question. How bloody odd. "You two can see them, yeah?"

     Blaise doesn't answer him. Theo, perturbed, raises an eyebrow and nods slowly. Harry clears his throat. This got awkward.

     "Um — come here," says Harry, beckoning Cassia to a free area in the clearing. "I can help you pat one of them, if you like."

Cassia's eyes widen in shock. "Um — no way. I—I've not seen them, that'd be terrifyi—"

Harry chuckles, cutting her off. "It's not that bad. They won't hurt you." He smiles at her sincerely, before saying, "Do you trust me?"

A small scoff escaping her, Cassia sets her jaw. "You're really going there?" When she sees him grin further, she nods. "Fine."

Harry smiles. He takes his glove off before holding a hand out, and Cassia takes her own glove off, feeling the cold rush into her, and takes it. It reminds her of that last time they were in the Forest together, and he took her hand to comfort her. Only then there wasn't this... sensation. Almost instantaneously the heat rushes back into her system. His hand is warm, welcoming, and she can feel him. It's like there's a connection. One that makes every hair on her body stand up and yearns for a wide smile to spread across her face. It's exhilarating, it's gratifying, it's epic. And Cassia loves that feeling.

The Gryffindor boy takes her over to a patch of empty forest, and guides her hand within his so that it could find the animal, in all its invisible glory. Cassia gasps softly when her hand falls upon a reptile-like material. This must be the Thestral. Her expression halts for a minute as she's unsure of what to make of this creature, it's skin feeling unpleasantly cold and bony beneath her hand, but she allows herself to release a ragged, though relieved, breath. Harry is still next to her, his hand encased over the one Cassia had resting on the Thestral's body. But Cassia realises that the Thestral was okay. It wasn't dangerous. And... Harry was next to her. When she turns her head to meet his eyes, she can see he was looking directly at her. His eyes were soft, his gaze was light, but she felt so... caught off-guard by it. By the way he was looking at her. Cassia feels her mouth stretch into a wide smile, small dimples prodding at her cheeks, and the smallest of breaths escape him. As if he was so mesmerised with Cassia, her smile, the feeling of her hand under his. The feeling of them two together... it was just remarkable. She made him feel remarkable. And Harry feared that one day, that could be his downfall. Or hers. But right now, just the fact that it was the two of them, in that class, hand against hand, eye to eye, was enough. The fact that she trusted him, was enough.

"Hem, hem."

Fuck you Umbridge.

A small distance away from Harry and Cassia was the woman herself, stout, sycophantic and smiling, dressed in a sickly green hat and cloak (What was she trying to do, show up Slytherin? Easier said than done.) with a clipboard at her berth.

"Um — I'll see you later," says Cassia, breaking away, snatching her hand from under his. He's left without a response as Cassia finds herself back in between Theo and Blaise, who's expressions all conveyed one thing and one thing only:

Theo, unimpressed. Blaise, unimpressed. Cassia presses her lips together.

"What?" She says, for they were looking at her with the most scrutinising of expressions. "Considering Harry can also see them, he did a better job than you guys. At least he didn't try to make me shit myself."

———

THERE WAS A SCRATCHING FEELING INSIDE THEO'S EARS, and it just wouldn't go away. It's like when you have a vinyl player, and the needle scratches along the disk, but it gets stuck on the same part. And repeatedly, it would stay stuck on that small interval where all they could make sense of was an irritating, incomplete repetition of a song that was supposed to bring pleasure to their ears, rather than pain. That's what Theo felt like right now. He didn't know how long exactly the scratching sound had bee in lingering for... but he was getting tired of trying to ignore it.

     He always thought that the regular bathrooms in Hogwarts could never beat those of the Prefect's. Theo always wanted to go visit the Prefect bathroom — apparently the taps had rainbow-coloured streams of water! — to, you know, see what it was like. But he was never a Prefect. That was Draco. And unfortunately, Theo and Draco hadn't exactly been on the best of terms since school had begun.

     Anyways, it was the evening now. During the whole Thestral-ordeal earlier on, Professor fucking Umbridge had to come and inspect Hagrid, which wasn't a sight to be happy about. For people like Draco, or Parkinson, or Crabbe and Goyle (get a fucking grip, Theo thinks all the time), who were beside themselves in laughter at the sight of Hagrid getting flustered and babied around by Umbridge, they seemed to love watching it. But for Slytherins that didn't suck up to the toad, namely, Cassia, Blaise and Theo, it wasn't really a sight to behold. They were thankful when the class ended and they were able to feel somewhat warmer back in the castle.

     Theo was in the boy's bathroom on the second floor. It was large, and grand, and messy, and weirdly empty. There was only one other cubicle that was occupied. Maybe that's good, though. It means there would be no one to bump into, most likely. Less socialising.

As Theo washes his hands, finding that the soap smells oddly nice — just an observation —the cubicle door opens, revealing the only other person inside the bathroom. And Theo wanted to die when he saw who it was. Harry freaking Potter. (And perhaps, the love of Cassia Greengrass's life too.)

Fuck Theo.

The Slytherin boy looks to the front, the mirror facing him, swearing under his breath. He begun rubbing his hands together more vigorously. Cursing his inner self. He'd already put soap on his hands. Oh well, it smelt nice. He's not exactly complaining. He keeps his head down, washes his hands, then goes over to the basin with paper towels. He dries his hands. He keeps his head down. He hopes Harry doesn't, like, say anything. Try to make conversation. Why should they converse? He doesn't like Harry. Cassia does. That doesn't mean they should become friends, or anything. Yuck.

     Harry moves to the sinks. Theo moves to the bin. He keeps his head down. Fuck him, if Harry tries to make conversation. They don't need to become close. It's just... unnecessary. Like, especially considering that Theo is the one with the Death Eater dad who's wanting to kill the golden boy of Gryffindor? He throws his paper towel in the bin. And he moves to the door. But fuck, Harry spoke. Of course he spoke.

     "How come you could see the Thestrals?"

Theo grits his teeth together. He stops halfway on his journey to the door, much to his chagrin. For goodness sake. He turns towards Harry, and leans against the hard, stone-cold wall. He didn't want to talk to The Boy Who Lived, but he couldn't exactly blow him off, could he? Well, he could. Only then he'd have a fuming Cassia to answer to. And Theo didn't want that. So he takes a deep breath in.

     (Son of a bitch, why's he doing this?)

"First year, my grandmother was suffering from a rare illness." says Theo blankly, "Her insides were deteriorating, she was losing her mind, the Healers said they were working on a cure but my grandfather had enough. He took out his wand, put it in her face, and said it. The killing curse. In front of my eyes. I was eleven. It didn't matter to him, of course. Or my father. It was too late by the time my mother managed to hide me. I saw him kill her. My grandfather didn't even ask for her permission. He just... killed her."

Harry stares at Theo, shocked. He had no words whatsoever. "Oh."

"Yeah," says Theo. "He's a maniac."

Maybe there was a reason why Theodore Mortimer Nott Jr hates Harry James Potter. And it wasn't just because he was this golden boy, or insufferable Gryffindor, or the obvious object of Cassia's affection. But because they were both people of tragic circumstance, people who'd endured hell and back during such a young age. But Harry bore the middle name of a man considered a martyr. Harry Potter was a name people considered all around, a miracle. The boy who would do wonders for the Wizarding world. Maybe not at the moment, considering most people believe he's lying to everyone — but Theo knows that once the Wizarding world comes to their senses, they'll go back to worshipping Harry fucking Potter. For Theo... he bore the names and middle names of two absolute maniacs. Two Death Eaters. Two of the people he hates the most. Two people he would always be associated with, until his death. Harry may be the son of a martyr, but Theo was always going to be the son of a Death Eater. Maybe it was this harsh truth, that made Theodore Nott resent Harry Potter so much. That even though they were both two remarkable boys who unfortunate things have happened to, Harry was always going to be the one who was better off. It's just how it was always going to be. Nobody wants to care for the son of a psychopath.

"There's no doubt why you can see them," says Theo.

"Yeah," Harry replies, "My parents."

"And Diggory."

Harry's eyes widen in shock, and disbelief.

"Wait, you bel—"

"Believe and know that you fought off You-Know-Who and saw Diggory die? Yeah, I do." Theo's eyes bore into Harry's. "I know you know my father is a Death Eater. I know the type of maniacal, fucked-up things he does. Whether you believe that or not, that's not me. I haven't said anything about believing you because I have things to live for. Not my father, or grandfather's legacy, but my own. And I have people to live for. My mother. Cassia. Her family. They're the best people I know. And I would do anything to keep them safe. And if that means hiding the truth, then so be it."

Theo purses his lips. "You're not the only one who's lived a tragic life, Potter."

Harry seemed at a loss for words. He didn't expect this. Theo was this... broken boy. This boy who may be forced into things he would never want to do. And the only people that kept him glued together, were those who he treasured. His mother. Cassia. And Harry understood what everyone else felt for him when they saw the orphaned son of James and Lily Potter. They all felt sympathy. But no one would feel that for Theo. He was the son of a Death Eater. No one was able to bypass the handsome resemblances to his deranged father, the poker face he held so strongly. They all saw Nott Snr in Theo, not Theo. But... Harry could now see past that. He could see... Theo. And he felt bad.

Standing there, Theo didn't know what took Harry so long to say anything. Maybe they finally stood on the same platform, and Harry couldn't believe that. Theo couldn't, either.

But the chance for words didn't come, when a screeching sounded in Theo's ears. Glass smashing. Cacophonous. The sound of nails on chalkboard. A light shines in his eyes.

     Fuck, not again.

     His head is pounding as the light dims. He's no longer in the bathrooms. Of course he's no longer in the bathrooms. Anytime something like this has happened he always ends up... somewhere else. His father's study, for example. The Manor's parlour. This time... there was also a sense of familiarity. A place where he'd spent so much time growing up... a place where he's spent summers in the garden, slurping on lemonade with his best friend and her sisters... a place where he'd run around the house in the midst of playing hide-and-seek, getting into trouble by Marlowe Greengrass when one of the portraits fell off the wall... it was the Greengrass Manor.

Why was he in the Greengrass Manor?

     Theo wasn't alone.... there was a circle of people all around him. It was blurry, but he could still see some things clearly. They were masked, cloaked in black. The lights and the candles had been dimmed. There were two people in the middle of the circle... a man, a handsome man, ageing gently, with a rough auburn stubbled beard and hair. The other person... or was it a person?... his skin was pale, void of hair, he had no nose, (fucking weird, okay) and he was also cloaked in black. His eyes were devilish... they were red orbs, the same as blood, with a snakelike slit down the middle, repeatedly dilating, entrancing...

Marlowe Greengrass was nowhere in sight.

     The man with the scary eyes — though Theo already knew who he most likely was — had his wand out, fondling the long branch with his thin, skeletal fingers. The man with the auburn hair — Theo was too scared to hazard his guesses at this one — was looking away, unable to meet the scarlet eyes of the man facing him. His face was drained, bleak, and Theo had an idea why. He was holding his arm out. His left arm. Theo's heart was beating. He knew that was the same arm where his father held the Dark Mark.

The man with no nose (again, what the fuck?), begins speaking: "It is time."

     Theo's mouth is drying up. No, no, no. Theo has an idea of who the man was with his arm held out, but he didn't want to say. To admit who it was is to give up every true belief he'd ever held to him and to give up any morsel of hope that good things can become good. That good people can stay good. Theo couldn't — he just couldn't. The voice sounds so far away and distant when it was spoken right in front of him. He wanted to yell out, to move, to snatch the arm away, hell, he wanted to deliver a punch to the man with no nose — but he couldn't move. He couldn't feel, move, or talk. Only see, only hear.

     Theo couldn't smell or sense or feel anything. But he could definitely see. And something told him that the prime emotion visible in the auburn-haired man's face, was fear. And maybe... regret. Something told Theo he didn't want to be here. He didn't want to do this. But he had to. He had... he had no choice.

"Your reward for your service to me," says the pale, bald, noseless man, in a voice hoarse, yet imposing. "Is for me to leave your family alone, Greengrass."

Greengrass.

Phoenix Greengrass. Cassia, Daphne, and Astoria Greengrass's father. Husband of Marlowe. Wizarding Auctioneer. A good man. A man who would do absolutely anything to protect the ones he loves. In his life with the Greengrass family, Theo wasn't necessarily close with Phoenix. He sees a mother figure in Marlowe, but Phoenix wasn't ever able to fill the void of a father figure for Theo. But Phoenix cared for Theo. Always respected him, said things like "Hi, son," and "Have you been keeping up with the Quidditch lately?" And Theo liked that. He liked having an older male figure in his life that treated him nicely. Maybe not like a father... but like a guardian.

     Which is why Theo thought there was a definite reason for him to be standing here, in his home, Death Eaters surrounding them, his arm held out in a circumstance Theo would never willingly accept. A circumstance Theo knew Phoenix would never willingly accept.

    "I want you to look at your arm when I Mark you, Greengrass," said the other man. "You must bear witness to the cause that precedes you. From today, you will bear my mark. From today, you will be a servant of mine. A wise choice."

     Theo is hardly able to breath when the other man prods his wand deep at the forefront of Phoenix's wrist. When he witnesses a black, seeping ink tint the pristine, ageing skin of a man he knew since childhood. When the ink revolves into a scaly snake outline, swirling upwards the pale skin into a fearful skull, Theo is well and truly ready to faint. His head is throbbing — whatever happens to Theo and transports them to these places certainly takes its toll on his mind — and he is finding it difficult to take a steady breath, and his eyes keep blinking.

     This can't be happening.

     But it did happen. As soon as the vicious skull materialises completely at the top of the Mark, as soon as the tattoo-like structure has completed and the wand moves away, and as soon as Phoenix Greengrass had entirely became a Death Eater, a bright light flashes in Theo's eyes, and he can feel the cool stone against his back, his fingers, his head.

     Theo opens his eyes. His head is pounding, sweat was dripping all along his forehead, his neck, his shirt was drenched, and he's faced with the ceiling of the boy's bathroom. He's also faced with these thoughts. Thoughts that kept visualising in his head like flashes, each click bringing with it a new thought, a new aspect of reality. He couldn't get the image out of his head — of the Greengrass Manor being surrounded with Death Eaters, of the silver masks all congregated in a circle, the image of Phoenix Greengrass's handsome face ridden with terror as he held his arm out, as he became a fully-fledged Death Eater. Fuck, this can't be true. Cassia's father can't be a Death Eater. He can't have ruined centuries of Greengrass lineage for the Dark Arts. He can't have done this, fuck.

     And — why the fuck was Harry Potter kneeled right next to him?

     "Nott, are you okay?" asks Harry. He looked worried. Like, he was crouched down on the cold surface next to Theo as the Slytherin finds his way to a sitting position. It took Theo a second to notice Harry's hand outstretching towards him. Immediately, he slaps his hand aside, jumping to his feet, ignoring the fact his head was swirling and his robes were covered in floor dust and the fact he nearly slipped on the tiles as he scampered away, putting fair distance between himself and the Potter boy.

     (Why the fuck did it have to be Harry Potter?)

     "I'm — I'm fine!" says Theo, holding a hand up in front of him. "Just — leave me alone."

     Harry gets to his feet, frowning with confusion. "You just fainted, mate—"

     "I'm not your fucking mate!" Theo says furiously. He didn't know why he showed this temper so suddenly. Maybe because he hates that he actually found a way to speak to Harry Potter as mutuals, that Harry seemed to think so too — Maybe that he had a "vision" or whatever, that Phoenix Greengrass was a Death Eater... he already imagined one too many changes to reality today. He didn't want yet another one to be that Theodore Nott was friends with Harry Potter. They weren't friends. Also, Theo fainted. Again. The fuck? "I'll never be your mate, Potter!"

     Harry squints his eyebrows. "Okay — but — hear me out, I've fainted before, I know—"

     "If you've fainted before then you'd know that I'd want to be left the fuck alone!"

     Without another second to be wasted, Theo runs out of the bathroom, leaving Harry Potter to look confused as to what on earth happened to Theodore Nott. And the fact that they talked. And hell didn't seem to rain down on him, for once.

     (Harry would be amused to find out that Theo was wondering what happened to him, too.)

     The corridors are slightly empty as small small groups of students hang about, and Theo attempts to calm his breathing, his walking, his mind. Because he just saw something terrible. It wasn't meant to be Phoenix. It was never meant to be Phoenix. Phoenix was never supposed to join forces with the Dark Arts — it was written all over his family history. The Greengrass family stayed out the way, but fought when they needed to, that's how it always was. It wasn't meant to be Phoenix. If anything, it was meant to be Theo. Theo disliked coming to terms with the truth, but he was always supposed to eventually join Lord Voldemort. Not... not Phoenix.

     Theo hated to admit it, but he understood what Draco Malfoy meant that morning in their dorms. And he had a fair idea Malfoy was right. The Greengrass family were at harm.

THE GREENGRASS FAMILY WERE SUPPOSED TO BE REMARKABLE, YES.

And maybe, in a way, they still are. For the people who know Cassia, who know Daphne, who know Astoria, Marlowe, and Phoenix. For the people who know Phoenix as Phoenix Phoenix, not Death Eater Phoenix. But if you had to ask Phoenix himself, he would be disgusted. He is horrified at what he did. At what he brought on himself. The Mark tainting his arm, the ink running through his veins, throbbing with every small motion. If it weren't attached to the rest of his body, Phoenix was sure his arm would've fallen off.

     A part of him hoped it would.

     "Do you have it?"

     The Greengrass Manor was empty, apart from two figures. The Death Eaters had all left, thank god — Phoenix hates himself for bringing such horrible people into his home. Marlowe... she was at work. And Phoenix had this gut-wrenching feeling about all he was hiding from his wife. This wasn't him. The only people in the Manor, was Phoenix himself — and the one they all feared. The one who caused such an uproar, such terror, such distress years ago when he was at large. Lord Voldemort.

     And here he was, asking for the thing that got Phoenix into this mess in the first place. A cup. A bloody goblet. A golden goblet, sculpted intricately, with the fine carving of a badger on the front, two small handles attached at the sides. Helga Hufflepuff's goblet.

     "Yes, my Lord." says Phoenix.

     Here's the thing: if you haven't already caught on, Phoenix Greengrass made what we would call, "a deal with the devil". In other words, this arrangement with Voldemort and the Death Eaters. Phoenix is an auctioneer. It's his job to find artefacts and cast them off for beneficial prices. It's a job for curious people — Phoenix was a curious guy. So when he did some digging and heard about Helga Hufflepuff's so-called goblet and that it still existed and was hidden, he decided to make it a project for himself to find it.

     But apparently he wasn't the only one. Who ever knew that Lord Voldemort held the Goblet of Helga Hufflepuff with such high regard? It was just a goblet. Worth a lot of money, that is. But why would someone like Voldemort need money, when people all around would fear his name? Phoenix didn't know why he wanted the Goblet. But Phoenix wanted it too. And he didn't fear the Death Eaters that came calling once they found out Phoenix was on the hunt for the prized cup.

     The first warning did nothing for Phoenix. It only made him more determined to search for it. It's why Phoenix was hardly at home all summer — he was spending the time searching, researching. Maybe he should've been spending it with his wife and daughters instead.

     The second warning didn't do much, either. Phoenix knew the Death Eaters wouldn't do something grand just yet. One call, and the Ministry would be after them — they wouldn't draw such attention on themselves. So he ignored them.

     But the third warning... tipped the scales. It was at a time when Marlowe and the girls had all gone to the villa of Astrid Lallemant in France, mother of their friend Eva Abercrombie. (Oh, yeah. And there was this really confusing thing with Enoch Abercrombie that Phoenix didn't understand. At all. How could he be a Death Eater?)

     Phoenix had gotten home after a tiring day at work, to place his briefcase down, and to have his breath snatched away. There, in the parlour, their hands tinkering around the delicate glassware, the beautiful picture frames, silently scrutinising the Greengrass home... Lucius Malfoy and Theodore Nott Senior in his home. With these cruel, snide smirks on their faces. Knowing. Nott Senior's hands found its way to a picture frame — a picture of Cassia, Daphne, and Astoria, and Phoenix's stomach lurched. Not by the fact such a cruel man was holding onto the picture frame of his most treasured, but by the maniacal upturn of his lips. Phoenix wanted to throw up. He didn't know what it was about, but he had a fair idea.

     "In your study." said Malfoy.

     A second wasn't wasted when Phoenix walked briskly into his study, filled with literature, ornaments, and trinkets. But he well and truly froze at the figure seated in his large-backed leather chair, his thin, bony fingers clasped around a frame of its own.

     Okay, now, understand Phoenix here — he knew Lord Voldemort was back. He never believed the Ministry's cowardly lies in his life — now wouldn't be any different. But this hit in a different way... Voldemort being in his house, at his desk, his fingers around a treasured picture frame...

     "Such beautiful children you have." said Voldemort.

     That was enough. That was enough for the mantle to break down. That was enough for Phoenix to drop every lasting value he held — every lesson, every virtue — he would drop it all for his family. There was a vile man in front of him, and he was looking at his children, and Phoenix knew that he could do the worst to them. Cassia, Daphne and Astoria meant the world to Phoenix. And Marlowe... she was the love of his life. So he would be damned if something happened to them because of him.

     So, at the third warning, he stood down.

     Maybe it was the biggest mistake he ever made. Maybe giving up the Cup and his research to this homicidal maniacs was his downfall. Because people knew. People knew how Phoenix treated his family as if they were the moon. The sun. The stars. And everything in between. They knew that if it came down to it, Phoenix would give up everything to ensure their safety. He would die for his wife and children. But if becoming a Death Eater meant that his beautiful Daphne, Cassia and Astoria, and his beloved Marlowe — if becoming a Death Eater and forsaking every belief he ever grew up with and held dear to him meant that they would be safe — then so be it. Because nothing will ever be more dear to Phoenix Greengrass than his family. And Voldemort knew that, and took advantage of it.

     Therefore, that's the deal with Phoenix Greengrass and the Death Eaters. The deal between Phoenix and the devil. He would find the cup of Hufflepuff, but not for himself — for Lord Voldemort — and he would become a Death Eater. He would save his family. Even if it meant at the destruction of himself and the destruction of his pride. He hated himself for becoming a Death Eater. But not for saving his family. That's the prime most important thing in his life.

     (Phoenix still doesn't understand, though... why on earth did Voldemort get so possessive over a cup? Weird.)

     A hand digs into the box placed on top of the glass cabinet. It's a simple box. Made with brown oak, smooth to the touch, furnished, with the Greengrass coat of arms carved on the top... but it wasn't the box that mattered. It was what was inside that did. Covered in a sheet of protective silk, a goblet rests within, one with an resplendent glow, glinting in your eye as it revolves around... there was a serene badger on the front, embossed with the most artistic curvature... it was shaking in his hands as Phoenix extends the Cup to Voldemort, the silk material spilling off the edge of his cupped hands as the Cup rests on top.

     "How beautiful..." breathes Voldemort.

     Phoenix lowers his gaze as Voldemort takes Hufflepuff's cup in his hands, slowly turning it around and examining it with his head held up high. He felt cowardly. He couldn't do anything. He reminds himself, this is for them, this is for Astoria, for Daphne, for Cassia, Marlowe. It's the only thing getting him through the fact that he's a Death Eater.

     "What — what will you do with — with it, My Lord?" says Phoenix. His voice was shaky, and fearful. God, Phoenix felt like a coward. He didn't want to be in this position, he didn't want to have ever risked his family's safety, god, and all for a bloody cup.

     "It's not a case of what I will do with it, Greengrass," says Voldemort. "It's a case of where I will keep it."

     "And — and where will that — that be?"

     Voldemort turns to Phoenix, and looks at him almost hypnotisingly, with his deep ruby optics. "This brings us onto the next matter of business ahead," says he. "Do not worry, Greengrass. Your hard work in finding Hufflepuff's Cup will not go to waste. We are soon going to free the next keeper of this Cup."

     A trembling breath escapes Phoenix. At this point, it wasn't the cup he cared about.

     "And — and my family?" asks Phoenix. He could feel his blood chilling.

     "So long as you keep your word, Greengrass," Voldemort tells him, "Your family shall not be harmed."

     The only thing left to be said, is that Phoenix did the first and foremost thing he could to save his family. He took the easy option. He ensured their safety. But maybe not his own... Not that Phoenix would have it in him to betray the Death Eater's cause, but he's heard of what happened to the people who have... He knows of someone who had close ties to Regulus Black, a Death Eater who had cowered out when it was too late... and he is dead. What if Phoenix cowers out? What if he becomes just like Regulus?

     Phoenix Greengrass was in too deep.

***

hey guys 😳✋🏻

so, um, there's that???? phoenix friggin greengrass is a death eater?????

pls don't be too harsh on him like sure. he's flawed. he took the easy route which was giving up the cup and becoming a death eater. he was too frightened his family would be harmed which is why he took the easy path out BUT he hates himself for it and all he wants is for his wife and children to be safe. so YES. he's flawed. so many characters are. cass, daphne, theo, harry, they're all flawed, but we still love them because they're redeemable and so is phoenix!!! in my opinion, he's still a way better person than lucius or nott snr even if he's a death eater like them.

and the thing with midlothian manson that shall be something for the future 😼 and you probably wouldn't have paid much attention to it but in the second last paragraph when i mentioned the regulus (🥺) thing and the person that was 'close' to him,, that shall also be something for le futur😼😎

also can we just appreciate the scene between theo and harry 😭😭😭i loves writing that omg. people have been wanting me to liek make them friends and im not saying im gonna make them friends but... im not saying i wont😼

the way i gave you guys a cute harry & cassia scene and then an angsty theo & harry scene and then fcking phoenix greengrass becoming a death eater and giving the hufflepuff cup to voldy😭😭 this fic has no chill omg

anyways i hope you guys liked that!!! hope i didnt scare you too much😭😭 updates will probs not be as frequent since school started ugh 🙄 but still ily all ty for supporting xxx