Chapter 53
CASSIUS BLACK
Cassius hadn't had a moment to pause amidst the chaos in his life. The brewing of Astoria's potion was in its final stage, and just as that part of him was about to end, the Headmaster had entrusted him with another great responsibility.
The Resurrection Stone was small and cubical with the symbol of the hallows inscribed onto it, and as he rolled it in between his fingers, it felt like a simple jewel, yet it was anything but that.
He still had not watched the memories he had been entrusted with for he remained more curious about the fact that he was not the only one in this world with his unique circumstances. That there had been others before him who had dealt with the same situation.
Like Pernelle Flamel, for instance.
Cassius had read quite a bit about the Flamels, or at least as much as one could find out these days and he had always been fascinated by them, or more specifically by the Philosopher's stone that they had created.
The stone was the stuff of legends, similar in uniqueness and importance to the Deathly Hallows, the Veil at the Ministry, the Founders' Treasures, and many other things whose origins and powers remained engulfed in mystery.
Yet here were two people still alive who had done the impossible and had created a magical artifact that no other wizard or witch before or after them had been able to replicate.
Since the dawn of time, wizards and witches had tried to create the stone to fulfill their desires. Some desired it for the wealth it offered, others wanted it for the immortality, and others still desired it for fame and the power it offered, yet in the four thousand years of recorded history, no wizard or witch had been able to do what the Flamels had done.
Herpo, Peverells, Blacks, Gaunts, and even Helga Hufflepuff herself had all tried to create the stone, yet none had succeeded. In the end, after poring over nearly two dozen books and diaries, Cassius had reached a straightforward conclusion in his life.
Either the creation of the stone was a lie, or the more likely chance was that its creation was less dependent on the brilliance of the Flamels and more dependent on the circumstances surrounding them and the time in which they had lived.
Upon reading a bit more about the specific time during which they created the stone, one thing that stood out was the 'Black Death'.
Herpo, Peverells, and the Blacks were no saints, but even at their most nefarious, no wizard or witch had ever killed so many people as the Black Death, and so he wondered if it was somehow connected with the creation of the stone.
But he had always thought that the secret would elude him, but now in his hands lay a chance to confirm his suspicion.
And so, with a final sigh, Cassius twisted the stone thrice in his hands, and upon closing his eyes, focused on the name and form of one Perenelle Flamel, and even before he had opened his eyes, a soothing, aged voice called out to him.
"I have been waiting for you to call on me," and Cassius opened his eyes and saw a woman standing in front of him, or rather, a ghost of a woman.
And he was a bit surprised at her appearance, for he had expected an old and frail woman, yet the ghost in front of him seemed to be in her thirties or forties, and not a day older.
"You are Pernelle Flamel," he said, and the woman nodded, a smile blossoming on her face.
"Yes," she had long curly hair, and somehow, even though she was a mercurial white and black, he could tell that they were brown once, and that her eyes had hints of dark red in them, and that she smelled of oranges.
It was strange, and his mind wondered if all this was the stone's doing, or was it something special about her.
"You were expecting me to be older?" and it was as if she had read his mind, and he admitted his own thoughts as the woman smiled warmly at him.
"Yes."
"Well, I do hope I have not disappointed," and she was not what he had expected her to be.
"But you must understand time does not really age a person's body, it is the soul that ages," and it took him an instant to make the connection.
"And the philosopher's stone stops the soul from ageing," and she saw those mercurial eyes narrow, as that smile stiffened.
"He did mention that you were quite brilliant," and again, he was surprised that she somehow knew about him.
"Who?" he asked.
"The love of my life," but how was he able to communicate with her.
"The stone?" he guessed.
"But didn't you destroy it?" and she did not answer him, which told him that it was a lie.
"We wanted to. Or rather yet, he wanted to," and her expression turned grim as she gazed into his eyes.
"But, there was much that we needed to do. That stone is not just our legacy, it is a burden as well, one that I must pass on to someone else. But I had grown tired of carrying this burden years ago. So even now, six hundred years later, he offered to carry it for himself and wait until a successor appeared to carry it forward," and Cassius was silent before he asked another question.
"And you believe I am that successor?" After a few seconds, she answered with a question of her own.
"Yes, I do because even though I am dead, I can see it," and those eyes lit up and glowed slightly, as she continued.
"You are not as young as your body would have me believe, Cassius Black," and the words stilled her.
"But don't worry. Your secret is safe with me. I have also asked Albus to keep it to himself, and he won't share it with me," she added, and Cassius's mind whirred with a thousand questions, and perhaps he might even ask her all of them.
"Did you ask the Headmaster to leave Harry's fate in my hands?" and she seemed a bit taken aback by his words.
"Why would you think that?" Initially, it had been a hunch. Albus Dumbledore was not the kind of man to push on such a responsibility onto someone else, at least not without good reason.
And despite raking his mind, he could think of no good reason why the man would push such a massive task onto him. Unless he was asked to.
"It's just a hunch," he replied, and the woman did not lie.
"Yes, I did," and that confirmed his hunch.
"Why?" he asked.
"Because from what I can tell, this is no ordinary task. It is a monumental decision that could shape history itself, and if you are to be my successor, then you must be able to make these decisions on your own," and she looked away.
"You must decide for yourself whether a part of Harry still lives on inside that body, or is he gone, and if so, will you try to revive him?" Her voice grew sterner as she told of the same question.
"Or will you kill both the body and soul, putting an end to the problem of this Dark Lord once and for all," and he knew of his options, knew of the weight of that decision.
"So, this is a test?" and he did not like it that she was making this matter out to be so trivial.
"In a way, yes. But it is not to judge you, for there are no right or wrong decisions here," and it was getting too late, and he had to rush back to the dorm soon.
"Well, speaking of that, just one more question before I go?" and she nodded.
"Ask away?" she encouraged, "it is not as if I have much to do."
"You were the one who created the stone, weren't you...."
0000
TRACEY DAVIS
"The Yule Ball," and the words of the Transfiguration Professor immediately set her heart racing as Professor McGonagall addressed all of the fourth years gathered in the giant classroom.
And she had wondered when they would make the announcement, and the day was finally here. Immediately, she wanted to jump out in joy, but she held herself back as the Professor continued.
"The Ball has been a part of the Tri-Wizard tournament for centuries, where students from each of the three schools gather in a Great Hall for a night of well-mannered and frivolity," and she scoffed, as she whispered to Daphne.
"As if there is any such thing," and despite its celebrations, Hogwarts's Christmas celebrations were rather lackluster, at least compared to what she was used to.
The Pure Blood high society did not celebrate Christmas, but celebrated Samhain and many of the Old Families still held Balls and galas to display their wealth. Compared to those places, Hogwarts' celebrations held little charm.
"As representatives of the host school, I want each and every one of you to put your best foot forward..." and she leaned closer to Daphne once more as the Professor turned her steely gaze towards the other side.
"I can bet a ten-galleon that the frivolity will be anything but well-mannered," and Daphne nudged her arm, as the Professor's steely gaze turned towards their side as the caretaker Argus Filch set up an old Gramophone on the table behind the Transfiguration Mistress.
"..both figuratively and literally because the Yule Ball is first and foremost a dance," and the Professor had intricately walked to the other side, and was not standing in front of a very bored-looking Cassius as she addressed the boy directly.
"All champions must attend the Ball, willing and unwilling," and all the eyes in the Hall turned towards Cassius at that moment as the Professor chastised the Ravenclaw champion whose unwillingness to partake in the tournament was known to all.
And as he tried to open his mouth, she cut in quickly.
"No arguments, Mr Black. I will not have you besmirch the good name of this school on my watch. You will attend the Ball or you shall prepare yourself to face my wrath, and I need not remind you that you still have four years still left in your schooling under me," and that was the first time they were hearing her make a threat and it sent a shiver down her spine, as Cassius was forced to nod.
"Understood, Professor," and though he had not flinched even in the face of a dragon, Professor McGonagall was far scarier. She forced him to bow down to her commands as she strode towards the centre of the Hall.
"Now, perhaps I could have a show of hands from the students here who know the basics of dance," and many hands went up, including her own and Daphne's, as the Professor scanned the crowd.
"Not so many," she heard her whisper as she gave a nod.
"For those unaware, I shall have a pair of you put out an example," and she scanned the crowd and smiled as she called out the first name.
"Mr. Black," and she saw Cassius stand up reluctantly, his face pale for some reason, though rather than turning towards him, the Professor turned to their side.
"And, Miss Greengrass," and she heard many whispers and murmurs, as Daphne gulped down nervously.
"Me?"
"Yes, Miss Greengrass, unless you have changed your name like Mr. Black here," and the Professor was clearly angry with Cassius and took another jibe at him, as a few students chuckled but one glance from the black haired boy was enough to silence them.
The reason for it was obvious enough for his actions in the tournament had reflected poorly on the school, a place the Professor held in the highest regard.
In the end, Daphne strode to the centre of the Hall as the Professor turned towards the caretaker.
"Filch, if you will," and the caretaker turned on the music, as Cassius and Daphne took their respective positions, each of them familiar with each other's quirks and habits because of years upon years of repetition.
They moved together in unison, and with every passing second, the whispers and murmurs began to die down as Cassius spun Daphne around the Hall in his arms. Despite being clad in their uniforms, their performance mesmerised everyone, and even those unfamiliar with the intricacies of the art could tell that this was not normal.
And only when the music stopped, and a few students coughed, did the Professor remember that this was supposed to be a teaching moment.
"Yes," the Professor shook her head.
"That was quite a brilliant performance," and indeed it was, and it was not her first witnessing it. As much as they would deny it, Cassius and Daphne were people built for one another; they were born in the same world, each carrying the burden of legacy on their shoulders.
But the sad truth was that they were both blind to their feelings, or at least had been. Daphne had finally found in herself the courage to accept the lingering feelings she had always buried deep inside herself. Yet, Cassius still remained oblivious, or better yet, too preoccupied to recognise them.
And as much as she wanted to blame him, she could not. They'd grown up together, speaking each other's silences before they even had words, and that much proximity often created a blind spot, as it had now.
"Now the performance from an experienced pair can be as mesmerising as this one, but even if one of the two partners knows the basics of the dance, then they can lead their partner and help them along," and she scanned the crowd once more.
"Miss Granger, why don't you step forward..." and her heart sank, as she turned towards the former Gryffindor girl who had rejoined them this year as the brown haired girl stood up.
"...and have a go with Mr. Black for a second demonstration," and she saw the girl gulp down nervously as she opened her mouth and apologised.
"I am afraid I cannot dance today, Professor. I sprained my ankle earlier and the Matron cautioned me about doing anything too arduous for the day...."
0000
In the forest, Igor Karkaroff knelt on his knees as he apologised profusely to his master.
"Forgive me, master. I have failed you. The boy still lives," and fear gripped his heart for he knew of the punishment that awaited him, and despite being the Headmaster of Drumstrang, he knew that in front of the Dark Lord, he was but a child.
After all, what chance did he stand against the wizard who had defeated death itself?
"Of course, you failed," the master added.
"I already knew that the stunt with the dragon could not kill that boy. I just wanted him to suffer, but I did not expect that he would be able to fight a dragon on his own," and neither had he, or anyone else.
"And to think that he already suspects me," and the Master laughed.
"It seems like I have found myself a worthy foe..."
0000
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