Written in the Stars - Connections

Connections

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.

(Break)

“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.

(Break)

“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.

(Break)

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?

(Break)

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.

(Break)

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.