Late August 1992
Harry took a large swallow of the cold water, the heat of the Greek
sun baring down on his back. Although flying and the other exercises
Viktor Krum and Olaffson had insisted he did were more pleasant to
complete in this climate, they were certainly more taxing.
He had spent considerable time over the summer atop his broom,
and when he wasn't, he could be found in the basement, his other
training having taken precedence since returning from Durmstrang.
The vision he'd had of the fight still haunted him so, though the
dreams of his mother's final moments still came sporadically
amongst them.
The commanding voice of Voldemort, the laughter, and the mocking
often making it difficult for Harry to maintain his usually cool
composure.
There was something about the man that made him furious,
vengeful, and even murderous.
In truth, anything pertaining to the loss of his parents made him feel
this way, but Harry would ensure they had not perished in vain.
Those who had a hand in Voldemort's successes would pay dearly,
of that, he had no doubt.
"Harry, a letter has arrived for you," Cassie called from the back
door.
With a nod, Harry retrieved the t-shirt he had removed and made his
way back to the house.
He had exchanged letters with all of his friends during the break,
each of them writing to him weekly at the very least, and Lucinda,
much to his surprise, more so than the others.
Eleanor usually sent two as did Ana and Cain, something that Harry
appreciated.
He did miss his friends, and though he had not seen any of them
other than Pansy over the holidays, he was looking forward to the
impending reunion.
"Who's it from this time?" Harry asked as he entered the kitchen.
"From the school," Cassie explained as she slid the missive across
the table.
Harry frowned as he opened it and removed several sheets of
parchment from within the envelope.
Dear Mr Potter,
Please find enclosed your academic report from the school year
1991-1992.
We look forward to welcoming you back to Durmstrang shortly.
Professor Igor Karkaroff
Headmaster
Professor Misha Sidorova
Head of First Year
"It's a school report," he explained to the waiting woman.
Cassiopeia nodded and waited for Harry to finish reading the
enclosed documents.
Grades
Your grades are awarded based on the system outlined below. If you
wish to discuss them in further detail, please arrange an appointment
with Professor Sidorova who will be happy to do so.
Grading System
Grades are given based on expected levels achieved for the
academic year you have completed.
Each year, the grading boundaries and expectations change as you
progress through a subject.
Grading Classes
First Class* - The highest attainable grade at Durmstrang. You are
working considerably beyond what is expected at the level of study.
First Class – You have accomplished beyond what is expected at
your level of study.
Second Class – You have achieved all that is expected of you at
your level of study.
Third Class – You have not achieved all that is expected of you at
your level of study. Your performance will be closely monitored
throughout the next year.
Unattained – You have not reached an acceptable level of
progress/completion of the subject matter. You are no longer eligible
to continue studying the subject.
Results for Harry James Potter
Academic Year: 1991 – 1992
Charms – 1st Class*
Dark Arts – 1st Class*
Defensive Studies – 1st Class*
Enchanting – 1st Class
Herbology – 1st Class
History of Magic – 2nd Class
Magical Languages – 1st Class
Magical Mathematics – 1st Class
Potions – 2nd Class
Runic Studies – 1st Class
Study of Magical Creatures – 1st Class
Study of Wandlore – 2nd Class
Transfiguration – 1st Class*
Congratulations Harry, I am very pleased with your results this year
and look forward to seeing what you can achieve moving forward.
Professor Sidorova
Please note:
During the next academic year, you will be introduced to further
subjects to supplement your education. These are listed below.
- Arcane and Esoteric Magicks
- Blood Magic
- Elemental Magic
Also, please find enclosed the list of items you will require for your
next academic year at Durmstrang.
Harry nodded satisfactorily at his grades before handing them to
Cassiopeia.
The woman took her time to read them, but when she was done, she
offered him a bright smile.
"Well done," she said sincerely. "Not that I expected anything less
from you."
"Does this mean we have to go shopping?" Harry asked, holding up
the accompanying wad of parchment.
"It does," Cassiopeia snorted amusedly as Harry grimaced.
The woman would insist on buying him new robes, and anything else
she could think of whilst they were there.
' Your robes should always be pristine. My father insisted on that with
Arcturus.'
Harry understood the positions he would hold one day were
prominent and there were expectations for both lordships he would
need to adhere to.
Cassiopeia insisted that get into some of those habits now, and
though it could be frustrating at times, he accepted her advice
knowing she had much better knowledge than him on the subject.
"I'll get ready then," Harry sighed.
Cassiopeia merely smirked in response and Harry muttered under
his breath before taking his leave of the kitchen to get himself
cleaned up.
"If that man has achieved even a tenth of the feats he claim, I will eat
my hat," Minerva declared after Gilderoy had sauntered from the
room. "Honestly Albus, could you not find a better candidate?"
The headmaster deflated.
"No," he admitted. "Mr Lockhart was the only one willing to take the
job."
Minerva pursed her lips in irritation but didn't comment further.
"The man is a braggart and a liar," Filius squeaked.
Albus could not disagree with the assessment of the new Defence
Against the Dark Arts professor, but he had spoken truthfully.
He had been unable to find any other candidate on short notice to fill
the role. However, his search would continue throughout the year.
"Well, let us hope that he experiences the same misfortune that all
others have during the short tenures here," Severus broke in, his lip
curling in distaste as he glared at the door Lockhart had just exited
through.
Albus silently agreed with the man, though he did not wish for any
harm to befall Gilderoy.
He had undoubtedly fabricated much of his collective tales, but he
had to be good at something to be able to fool so many.
"I will monitor him closely," Albus assured the other staff members.
"For now, I wish to bring something else to your attention pertaining
to Lucius and Arthur Weasley. It is my understanding that there was
quite the unpleasant incident between them both in Diagon Alley. I
do not wish for that to continue between Draco and the Weasleys
that are here."
"I will ensure it does not," Minerva declared.
"Unpleasant incident?" Pomona questioned curiously.
"The two of them were brawling," Professor Sinistra explained. "They
caused quite the scene."
Pomona rolled her eyes as she shook her head.
"The Weasley/Malfoy unpleasantness has lasted for generations.
You would think they would have put their differences aside by now."
"Both families are too stubborn," Minerva sighed. "I had hoped with
Arthur's more kindly nature, he would have moved past it."
"That will never happen," Severus snorted as he stood. "If you don't
mind, I have potions brewing for the Hospital Wing. I expect we will
need them this year."
Without another word, Severus left and was followed by the other
professors when Albus made no protest.
When he was alone, he stroked Fawkes' feathers as he pondered
the upcoming year.
Gilderoy would likely prove to be a disappointment, but the school
had been unable to retain any instructor in the subject for more than
a year for some time.
Perhaps the position truly was cursed.
Not wanting to expend too much energy pondering that possibility,
Albus began busying himself with some of the considerable
paperwork that came with being the headmaster of one of the most
prestigious institutions available.
The schooling of his students would be resuming the following day,
and though he was always eager to greet them when they arrived,
he had sneaking suspicion that this year would be more eventful
than he wished.
Between the disaster that Gilderoy could prove to be and the
brewing unpleasantness between Slytherin and the other houses,
things could become rather unsavoury indeed.
"I'm pleased to see that you have been practicing," Viktor praised as
Harry touched down on the ground.
It was only the morning after they had returned to school and the
Bulgarian had dragged him from the common room before the sun
had risen.
Not that Harry minded.
He had already been awake.
"I have," he replied with a frown as Krum circled him.
"You have grown a couple of inches too," the older boy mused aloud.
"Good work, Potter."
"Well, you know, it would have been rude if I didn't choose to grow a
little for you," Harry remarked, eliciting a smirk from the Bulgarian.
"The others will like you," Krum declared.
"What others?"
"The rest of the students that help me with my training," Krum
explained. "They'll even keep Barkus off your back."
Harry snorted as he shook his head.
"Arse-Kiss can do as he pleases," he returned evenly. "If he's too
stupid to not have learned from the last time, then he deserves
whatever he has coming."
Krum chuckled, nodding his agreement.
"He is an idiot and will not let it go," he sighed. "His father is high-up
in the German Ministry so he thinks he's untouchable."
"That really worked out for him, didn't it?" Harry replied pointedly.
Viktor eyed Harry speculatively for a moment and patted him on the
shoulder.
"You're already making a name for yourself here," he murmured
thoughtfully. "What you did for the werewolves last year and sticking
up for your housemates, people are taking notice. Other than Barkus
and his friends, even the purebloods are beginning to respect you,
even if they don't agree with you."
"Don't agree with me?" Harry asked.
"The wolfsbane," Viktor explained. "Many purebloods in Europe will
be displeased that you are supplying even a small number of
werewolves with it. We are more tolerant of them in all than in most
places, but they are still below us. Your being so generous with your
gold towards them will not be well received."
Harry shrugged carelessly.
"If anyone does have a problem with what I do, they are welcome to
take it up with me."
Viktor smirked once more and ruffled Harry's hair.
"I like you, Potter," he declared, "just, be careful. It is not so difficult
to make enemies."
"Look who you're talking to, Krum," Harry returned. "I already have
many of them. A few more won't make any difference."
Viktor nodded as he eyed Harry.
"Well, I'm already glad that I have no intention of becoming one of
them," he said sincerely. "In only a few years, you would not be an
enemy I want. Now, come on, we'd best get to lessons or Olaffson
will have us both out here at the crack of dawn if we're late."
Harry nodded and followed the older boy back towards the school.
He wouldn't put it past the Icelandic monster to do just that.
"Same time tomorrow?" Harry asked as he and Viktor reached the
courtyard.
"No, today was just a test to see if you would be ready if I needed
you early," he replied with a grin. "You passed."
With that, Viktor left a scowling Harry where he was standing and
headed in the opposite direction of where he needed to be.
This morning, he would be experiencing his first lesson in Elemental
Magic, something he had been eagerly anticipating.
"Where have you been?" Cain asked as Harry joined him and the
others in the main hall.
"With Krum," Harry explained as he helped himself to some bread
and bacon to eat on the way to the classroom.
"He meant it then?" Cain pressed excitedly. "That he wanted you to
train with him."
Harry nodded as he took a mouthful of food.
"He meant it," he confirmed when he had swallowed it. "He meant it
so much that he would have been dragging me out of bed by my feet
if I hadn't been awake at five."
"Five?" Cain groaned in displeasure.
The werewolf was not an early riser and chose to remain in bed until
the last possible moment each morning.
"Not all of us are lazy wolves," Harry quipped.
Cain narrowed his eyes at him, but Harry finished his breakfast
before they arrived at the classroom.
"Come in, come in," the professor urged excitedly.
They entered, and Harry took a seat next to Ana who had been
looking forward to this lesson even more than him.
"We will give the others a few more minutes to arrive, and then we
will begin," the professor declared.
She was a younger woman, with curly red hair, bright blue eyes, and
porcelain skin.
The rest of the students arrived only a moment later and the
professor greeted them all with a beaming smile.
"Welcome to your first lesson in Elemental Magic," she began
enthusiastically. "Whilst you are here, we will explore the elements
themselves and discover what, if any, elements you may have an
affinity for. However, I must warn you that this particular branch of
magic can be exceedingly dangerous if it is not given the respect it
deserves."
Although her tone carried the hint of warning, the smile never left her
lips as she spoke.
"My name is Professor Ida Larsen. I am from Denmark, and I have
an elemental affinity with fire."
To accentuate her point, she summoned the flame from one of the
torches on the wall and began manipulating it in her hands, shifting it
into shapes of different creatures.
When she was done, she threw it back towards the torch where it
continued to flicker merrily.
The students clapped, and the woman offered them a bow.
"Now," she continued when the applause died down, "I must explain
to you that not everyone has such an affinity with any element. With
that being said, there is much you will learn during these lessons that
will aide you in your magical journey. Shall we begin?"
Harry's curiosity had been piqued, as had the rest of the class who
were paying rapt attention to the woman.
Noticing this, she offered them another smile.
"What do I mean by elements?" she asked.
"Fire?" one of the purebloods replied.
Larsen nodded.
"Fire is indeed an element, but I am looking for something else, an
answer that is more encapsulating."
"Natural energy," Ana broke in. "The elements are natural
phenomena that create their own magical energy."
Larsen positively beamed at the girl.
"Exactly," she confirmed. "Fire, wind, water, and air are the most
common of elemental affinities, but there are others, some that work
in conjunction with the four primary practices. Does anyone have any
ideas what they may be?"
"Earth," Ana answered. "There is a never-ending supply of energy
that runs beneath our feet."
Larsen nodded.
"Indeed, there is," she confirmed. "Practitioners of Earthen Magic are
quite rare amongst humans, but not amongst other races. Hags and
Elves are rather proficient in it."
Ana nodded this time.
"Any others?"
"What about volcanoes?" Cain questioned.
"Lava is a natural energy," Larsen acknowledged, "and it can be
used to a degree, but is difficult to harness. If I attempted to
manipulate lava as I do fire, it would burn me horribly. As with all
magics, elemental practices are limited, and extremely dangerous if
these limits are pushed."
Cain nodded his understanding.
"There are dozens of natural energies," Larsen explained, "some
more difficult to tap into than others. Now, what we will be doing
today is studying some of these elements and seeing if we can
recognise the magic in them. I am not expecting much during our
first attempt, but it is something we will revisit throughout the year.
You will work in pairs for this."
Larsen proceeded to hand out glass jars full of fire, water, and some
seemingly empty that represented air.
She handed an additional one to Ana that contained dirt, and the girl
nodded appreciatively.
"Do not be disappointed if you feel nothing," Larsen urged. "Having
an affinity with an element is not common."
Harry nodded before turning his attention to Ana.
"Do you think you will have it with Earth?" he asked.
"I already have," the girl murmured as she placed the jar on the
table.
She stared at it for a moment before the glass shattered and the dirt
was flung in Harry's direction.
"I'm sorry," Ana said hurriedly as she brushed it from his robes.
Harry waved her off, chuckling amusedly.
"Don't apologise, that was great," he praised.
Ana offered him a sheepish grin as Larsen approached, clapping
gleefully.
"Excellent," she declared, "but if you could refrain from throwing it at
your fellow classmates, that would be most appreciated."
Ana's cheeks reddened as Larsen attention turned to Harry.
"Let us see what you can feel, Mr Potter," she said interestedly. "Pick
up one of the jars and allow any magic you become aware of to
wash over you."
Harry frowned as he picked up the jar of fire.
He could feel the heat and even something beyond that, but it did not
feel welcoming.
"It doesn't want me," he whispered.
"Excuse me?" Larsen asked.
"The fire doesn't want me," Harry replied. "It's warm and I can feel
something, but it is pushing me away."
Larsen's eyebrows rose considerably.
"You can feel it pushing you away?"
Harry nodded.
"When it touches my magic, it retreats."
Larsen's lips quirked in a grin.
"Try the water," she urged.
Harry did so after replacing the jar of flames, and when he allowed
the water to reach him the same way he had with the former, he
shuddered.
"It's cold," he murmured. "It's pushing me away too."
Larsen shook her head.
"The fact that you can feel them so well is rather astounding," she
commented. "Most would not even be able to feel acceptance let
alone rejection. You have quite a keen sense for magic, Mr Potter.
Try the Air and the Earth."
Harry did so and received similar results, much to the confusion of
the professor who hummed thoughtfully to herself.
"You're certain you can feel the magic within them?"
Harry nodded and the woman reached into her bag and removed
another from the bag slung over her shoulder.
"Try this," she urged as she handed it to him.
The jar was empty, but as Harry took hold of it, he felt a wave of
powerful magic wash over him and the glass began to tremble in his
hand.
A deep rumble sounded from within and Harry found he couldn't
release his hold.
The rumble grew louder and the force within shook his arm almost
uncomfortably until a flash of light blinded him.
When Harry managed to catch his bearings, he was sitting with his
back to the wall, a dozen feet away from where he had been, his
entire body tingling.
"Bloody hell," he gasped. "What was that?"
Larsen was looking at him with a raised eyebrow of amusement and
mixture of curiosity.
"Are you alright, Mr Potter?" she asked as she approached.
Harry nodded as he pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the stares of
the rest of the class.
"What happened?"
"You over-exerted your hold on the element," Larsen explained. "Are
you injured?"
Harry shook his head.
He felt fine other than the throbbing tingle in his right arm.
"I think I'm okay," he replied as he pulled his sleeve up to his elbow.
"Or not," he added.
From his finger and all around his arm was a dark, sporadic pattern
that split in several directions.
"You've been burned," Larsen sighed. "Not to worry, the healer will
be able to put that right."
"Burned?" Harry asked. "It doesn't hurt."
"Well, you're very fortunate," the woman returned. "It is my fault for
allowing it to go on as long as I did. I got overexcited and forgot that
you have no idea how to control it."
"Control what?" Harry questioned.
"The lightning," Larsen informed him. "You have quite the affinity for
it."
"Lightning?"
Larsen nodded.
"It is not an unheard-of ability, but not as common as the other
elements. You took the stored energy in the jar and created quite the
storm. I did not expect such a volatile response, though I should
have."
"Lightning?" Harry asked again.
Larsen laughed as she inspected his arm.
"It is more common among Native Americans," she explained, "but
just as a wand chooses a wizard, the elements do too. Have you
ever been struck by lightning?"
Harry frowned as he shook his head.
"No, I think I'd remember that."
"You would," Larsen agreed. "Has there been a significant moment
in your life when there was a storm."
Harry swallowed deeply as his mind drifted back to the only storm he
had a vague memory of.
That had occurred during the most significant and defining moment
of his life.
"The night I got this," he whispered, the tips of his fingers trailing
over his scar.
Larsen's eyes widened at the revelation before she cleared her
throat.
"That will be all for today," she announced. "We will continue next
lesson. You may leave when you have gathered your things. Not
you, Mr Potter," she added.
Harry sighed as he made his way back to his table and took a seat.
"Are you okay?" Ana asked as she collected her bag.
Harry nodded and the girl offered him an encouraging smile.
"Don't worry, I'll tell Gerhart you're here," she assured him, referring
to the Transfiguration professor.
When the other students had left, Larsen joined Harry, taking the
seat next to him.
"I apologise if I made you relive a painful memory," she began
sincerely. "It was not my intention to cause you upset, but to identify
when your connection to the element was made."
"Do you think it happened then?" Harry asked.
Larsen nodded.
"It was a deeply traumatic experience coupled with unprecedented
magic taking place," she explained. "If there was indeed a storm, it is
likely then the magic recognised your strength and chose you."
"You speak as though it is alive," Harry snorted.
"Isn't all magic alive in some way?" Larsen returned.
Harry nodded thoughtfully.
"I suppose it is."
"So, it would make sense that magic itself can use its sentience to
forge an equally beneficial bond."
"Equally beneficial?"
Larsen grinned.
"You created the storm in the jar, Mr Potter," she informed him. "The
energy was there, but it was you that put it to use. If you become
attuned to it, and you find common ground with that energy, you
could potentially create storms on a much larger scale. Your ability
with lightning spells will at least be exceptional if you explore and
deepen your relationship."
"How do I do that?"
"You practice," Larsen said simply. "You must embrace it, respect it,
and welcome it. If you do, then it will reciprocate."
"I just practice?"
Larsen nodded.
"There is only so much guidance I can give you," she explained.
"Journeying into elemental magic is a personal endeavour, an
exploration between you and the element that chose you to see how
deeply you can forge the bond."
"That makes sense," Harry murmured.
Larsen rubbed his shoulder.
"What happened to you is truly awful, Harry, and I will not pretend to
understand what magic was at play that night, but you managed to
gain an ever-present ally. Your element chose you for a reason, and I
would urge you to explore your bond with it."
"I will," Harry assured her.
He was curious about it, and though he was nervous about
attempting to wield such an unpredictable and chaotic thing, he was
excited by the challenge it presented to him.
"Good, we will discuss it throughout the year," Larsen declared as
she stood. "There is much I need to ponder also."
"Like what?" Harry asked.
"You didn't just summon or create lightning, Mr Potter, you created a
storm," she reminded him. "That is quite the feat, and something I
need to look into to see if there is any further help you need or
guidance I can offer. Now, off you go to your next lesson."
It was a thoughtful Harry that gathered his bag and left the room, but
he did not head towards the transfiguration classroom.
It had been some time since he had discussed anything pertaining to
what had happened to his parents, but he vividly remembered the
striking of lightning as Voldemort forced himself through the door to
Harry's room where he had murdered Lily Potter.
Harry had never really been frightened of lightning, but it never failed
to remind him of that night and speaking of it with Larsen had left him
feeling rather maudlin.
Still, if lightning had indeed chosen to form a bond with him, he
would be foolish to not explore it, despite the emotions the memory it
brought forth invoked within him.
Fear, sadness, and helplessness; three things Harry never wished to
experience again.
Halloween 1992
"You'll be next mudbloods!"
The boy fell silent when he realised that not even his housemates
were willing to echo the sentiment, each of them fixated on the red
writing staining the wall or the cat that hung from the torch bracket.
Few would feel much for Mrs Norris, but the threat of the words of
whomever had written them could not be ignored.
Albus's mind wandered to some fifty years prior when the Chamber
of Secrets had been opened, the culprit none other than the boy who
had grown to become one of the most feared Dark Lords in history.
The headmaster had no doubt that Tom was somehow behind the
opening of the chamber once more, but how?
Albus knew not, but it was his priority to uncover the truth of the
matter before anyone else was harmed.
"Prefects, escort your students back to their common rooms," he
instructed firmly. "Who was the first to come upon the scene?"
"That would be me, Professor," Percy Weasley replied.
"Did you see anything amiss when you arrived?"
"No," the redhead answered immediately. "There was no other here
nor did I hear anything."
"Thank you, Mr Weasley," Albus sighed. "Please continue with your
duties."
When the students had reluctantly left the area, Albus turned to the
rest of the staff.
"I would have the castle and the grounds searched thoroughly," he
instructed. "If anything is amiss, even if it seems mundane, I wish to
be informed of it."
"It is like before," Minerva murmured when the other professors had
left. "Surely it cannot be him."
"I'm afraid that it is," Albus replied sombrely. "How he is doing it, I do
not know, but I will find out."
Minerva nodded as she too left, and Albus approached the red
lettering.
"Blood," he deduced. "Non-magical, and not human."
However, no other clues had been left behind by the perpetrator.
They knew what they were doing as not to leave a trace of their
presence.
Either they had been instructed carefully by Tom, or somehow, Tom
himself had managed to find his way back into the castle.
Albus shook his head of the latter thought.
No, the soul piece he had chased away was not here.
He would be able to feel it if it was, but the question remained, how
was orchestrating this latest ploy?
Although Harry had only managed to strike himself with lightning
during the lessons on elemental magic, he found that he was
enjoying the challenge, despite the bruises and minor burns he often
left with.
Larsen seemed to believe he was making good progress, something
that Harry could not agree with.
No matter what he tried, he found himself propelled across the room
with his body tingling for hours after.
"You know, if it was anyone else, they'd probably be dead," Lucinda
pointed out. "I think that's progress."
Harry snorted amusedly.
"Well, if me not dying from an element I am supposed to have an
affinity for is progress, then call me the Lightning King."
"Is she the Lightning Queen then?" Cain asked, gesturing towards
the vampire.
Lucinda bared her fangs at the werewolf who flinched, but the smile
did not leave his lips.
Since he and the other werewolves had been given the wolfsbane
potion, they were in much better spirits, all of them suffering less as
each full moon approached.
The same could not be said for Harry, however.
Although he was occasionally subjected to the dream of his mother's
demise, and even the violent struggle between the bearded man and
the one who seemingly had another attached to the back of his
head, other dreams he failed to understand had become prevalent.
The first he'd experienced had been during the summer, little more
than a glimpse of a young redhead looking down on him, but it was
disturbing, nonetheless.
At first, he had believed that it had been his mother as a girl, but this
one did not have the same brilliant green eyes Harry had inherited
from Lily Potter.
No, this girl had brown eyes, and she appeared to be trying to tell
him her innermost thoughts.
Harry had been unable to understand any of the words she had
spoken, but he did not see himself as a confidant for her.
On the contrary, he saw her as a tool to achieve something that he
wanted.
What that could be, he knew not, but this naïve girl was not his
friend.
The dreams continued to appear sporadically since, often showing
the girl simply looking down at him, and sometimes, Harry would be
shown what the girl herself was seeing.
A book she was writing in…stone corridors she roamed, and even
the inside of a bathroom where her focus was on a particular sink.
It made no sense to him, and with nothing malicious or threatening
taking place, he did his best to push them to the back of his mind.
He had other things that required his attention, after all.
Still, they were odd occurrences, and were it not for his increased
practice in Occlumency, perhaps he would see more than he had
been shown.
Gellert seemed to be pondering her words carefully as he paced
back and forth in his cell.
Cassiopeia had explained her more recent concerns about Harry,
how he had become even more focused on his work despite having
scored so highly in most of his topics.
In truth, it wasn't this that worried her as much as his silence on the
matter.
She had always instilled a strong work ethic within the boy, and he
wasn't doing anything that wasn't expected of him, but it was his
motivation that had prompted her to speak with Gellert.
The man hummed as he paused.
"He has said nothing?"
Cassiopeia nodded.
"Have you observed anything different about his behaviour?"
Cassiopeia frowned.
"There is one thing that happened, but I haven't thought much about
it," she informed him. "I checked on him when he was sleeping as I
always do, and he was talking."
"What did he say?"
Cassiopeia shrugged.
"It was incoherent mostly," she sighed. "Something about a purple
turban and a quill."
"Quirrell?" a severe voice broke in.
Cassiopeia glared at Dumbledore, but the man remained almost
indifferent to it.
She knew that he visited occasionally, though this was the first time
she had seen him since the night they had taken Harry from the
muggles.
"What if it was?" she asked defensively.
Dumbledore looked worriedly towards Gellert and the two seemed to
have a silent conversation before he met her gaze once more.
"I believe that there is a connection of sorts between Harry and
Voldemort," he said darkly. "It seems that Harry is getting glimpses of
what he is up to."
The thought concerned Cassie deeply, and she turned towards
Gellert for guidance.
"He is not in danger from what he sees," the man assured her, "and
as much as I wish it weren't true, I agree with Albus that it is what is
happening."
"Can we not stop them?"
Gellert shook his head.
"No, I do not think so."
Dumbledore offered her a sad smile.
"What significance does this Quirrell have?"
"He was our former Defence professor," Dumbledore explained. "He
fell under Voldemort's spell, and I believe Harry was being shown
glimpses of their time together. I would urge you to broach the
subject with him as soon as you can and would ask a favour of you."
"A favour?" Cassiopeia asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously at
the headmaster.
Dumbledore nodded.
"There has a rather unpleasant incident at the school that I believe
the Dark Lord is behind. If there is any truth to the claim, then the
Chamber of Secrets has been opened. I believe that somehow,
Voldemort is behind it. I would have you ask Harry about any other
more recent visions he may have had. Your cooperation could save
lives."
Cassiopeia frowned.
She had heard of the Chamber of Secrets.
As far as she knew, the hidden room of Salazar Slytherin within
Hogwarts was little more than a myth, a children's tale, but
Dumbledore's unusually maudlin demeanour gave her pause in
dismissing his concerns.
Still, she looked towards Gellert who nodded encouragingly.
"You may not like him, but you know as well as I that Albus is not
prone to flights of fancy," he murmured. "At the very least, it will
cause no harm to ask the boy."
Cassiopeia deflated as she nodded.
"Fine," she agreed, "but I want you both to find a way to stop Harry
having these dreams or whatever they are. The boy has suffered
enough."
With that, she took her leave of the prison, her worries having only
been increased instead of assuaged as she had hoped