Published at 27th of May 2024 12:13 am

Chapter 203: The Lost Serpent

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4 April 1994, Hogwarts, Scotland

Cassius Warrington tried to ignore his sister's worried gaze as she fussed over him. The sight of a preteen girl, barely reaching his waist in height, fretting about his well-being must have looked comical from the outside. If it had been anyone else, Cassius would have been angered at the humiliation, but he didn't have the heart to make Ivy sad, especially considering how terrified she must have felt during his duel with Longbottom.

Still, after a while, the young Slytherin stopped her hand and gave her a warm smile, "Stop worrying, Ivy. I'm fine. Madam Pomfrey was able to stop anything serious from happening to me. And the healers even gave me a clean bill of health."

"But you're still bleeding…"

Ah, yes. That. Even after more than a month of constant healing, the stab in his chest still opened and bled randomly. Thankfully, everything was fine internally, and his healers checked many times. But the scar itself opened. It was a very odd effect, where the Dark Magic persisted in the surface wound. The healer who specialized in curses said that it was the intent of the castor still powering the surface magic. It wasn't really dangerous, but it made him wonder what fucking curse did Longbottom use in their duel. It had to be some serious Dark Magic, which was odd since the boy had cast it without using a wand.

Cassius wasn't buying the whole 'emotional accidental magic' that Dumbledore was spouting. Longbottom was already casting a lot of frankly disturbing spells as the duel progressed, easily going for killing blows. The boy's spells were even more potent, more powerful than he'd seen older students cast during the 'Court disagreements'.

What a pretentious way for the Court of Slytherin to call fighting so that the winner would have his way. The Court had a small fighting arena for members to fight each other. It was somewhat traditional for the white and black halves of the Court to disagree on almost any issue, with only the king acting as the mediator. The white court was often made up of Half-Bloods and new Purebloods, and the Black Court were mostly members of the old families, still retaining their position in society due to their vast wealth and heritage.

Cassius was a proud White Rook, an enforcer of the Court, and he had more than often ended up fighting against other opponents. He had won some and lost some. But he never experienced what Longbottom did against any other opponent. Longbottom's spells had a lot of weight against them, far more than he had ever seen anyone else cast. There was a very real possibility that they could have gone through the protection charms that the duelling tournament put in place, to prevent any deaths.

It was required from any duelling event to have wards that would dampen any magic on a person's head. It wasn't really a shield charm, but should a dangerous spell come near a competitor's head or heart, then the spell would be transformed into a stunner with any leftover magical energy turned into a concussive force. This was a form of transfiguration that was so beyond NEWT levels that it wasn't even funny. Cassius had tried to read up on the ward, but the work was so theoretically complex that he barely got through the first few pages.

The ward was important though; as long as a competitor didn't instantly perish, it was perfectly possible for a healer to save the competitor's life if they reached him in time. Magical healing was just amazing. It was a shame that healers were forced to swear so many vows during their training. If it didn't feel so stifling, Cassius would have considered joining them.

Still, a duelling ward, like any other form of protection magic, could be overwhelmed. Cassius wasn't certain but he had a feeling that a few of Longbottom's spells, especially the Dark ones, could have killed him. It wasn't anything rational, just this instinct that he had during the duel. He felt in real danger, as in actual mortal danger. Cassius lost many duels before, outclassed rather easily, but he had never been as terrified as he was when he fought Longbottom.

There was just something unsettling about that guy.

Cassius' thoughts were interrupted by a slight burning pain, to which he hissed in protest.

His sister didn't seem to care about his hissing and hit him gently on the back of the head, "Don't be a baby. Madam Pomfrey said to apply this cream every time the wound opens…"

"You could have warned me, at least."

"And have you cringing away like a little girl?"

The young Slytherin's cheeks reddened, "I do not cringe away!"

The little girl gave him an unimpressed look and did not deign to comment any further, choosing to continue applying the cream. The wound visibly closed once more, the blood was wiped away, leaving a large gash in his torso.

Even weeks later, he hadn't gotten used to the sight. It was a jagged line, uneven and rough, resembling a rift carved into the earth as if his flesh had parted away. The edges of the scar were raised and puckered, a harsh contrast to the otherwise smooth skin. Its colour was a mottled tapestry of pinks and reds, with tinges of purple at the peripheries, like a gruesome sunset permanently painted on his flesh. Dark magic was a bitch to heal, and that's not even considering the bullshit Longbottom was spewing.

The scar tissue had a sheen to it, a subtle glossiness that caught the light differently from the rest of his skin, serving as a constant, unyielding reminder of the danger he faced, of what could have easily happened to him.

It was a sobering thought, the fact that he was moments away from leaving his sister alone in such a cruel world, with barely more than a small vault full of his meagre savings, and a muggle father.

Ivy wasn't like him. Cassius fought tooth and nail to make that happen. He did some very risky moves and worked his arse off in and out of the castle to save up enough gold to make sure that Ivy wouldn't struggle to pay for anything during her Hogwarts education. But without him helping her, that would have been it. He had enough gold for her school supplies and any magical needs she might have, but nothing more. Ivy would have had to work for every single Knut she would need outside of that. She wouldn't have been able to go out to Hogsmeade with her friends, sneak in some banned items, things that Cassius' classmates did and that he always declined any invitations into, choosing to save up as much gold as he could.

The only indulgence he ever gave himself was his broom, and it was more of an investment than anything else. The possibility of becoming a professional Quidditch player was too lucrative for him to avoid, especially with the lack of a skilled seeker in the Slytherin team.

Cassius' wish was for Ivy to have a life without caring about whether she could afford to have fun or enjoy herself. He would not let that happen.

Yet, whenever he looked at Ivy's eyes, he didn't see her childish innocence anymore. Seeing him so close to death had made her lose something precious, and that was why he truly hated Longbottom and Dumbledore, "You don't have to come every day, you know."

"I know that, but I want to. Who knows what mess you would be pulled in without me there to set you straight?" she teased back.

"You make me sound like I'm some kind of troublemaker…"

"Aren't you? Still, you should thank Professor Snape for letting me take care of you when you're not in class. How he convinced Dumbledore of that, I have no idea."

The way she spat Dumbledore's name made him worry slightly, "Look, Ivy. I know that things have been tough on you and Dad, but you need to drop the whole hate thing with Dumbledore… Antagonizing him is just not worth the trouble it would bring us in the long run."

"He tried to swipe it under the rug and called it an accident. You almost died, Cassius. And that Longbottom cow practically forced you to sign a disclaimer that you wouldn't press charges against her grandson. It's just not fair."

"No, it was entirely fair," Cassius commented, "We got more gold than I could have made in five lifetimes. Don't you get it, we're set up for life. You could enjoy Hogwarts without any trouble, and get new robes instead of second-hand like me. We could finally go on a trip somewhere during our vacation, visiting someplace warm… It might have sucked, but this was the best thing that could have happened to us."

Ivy just stood there, frozen and silent before her eyes started to tear up, "You don't get it, do you? You were dead. I saw your body fall; I saw you bleed all over the arena. Everyone thought you'd died. I thought you were. I would rather give back all the gold Longbottom threw at us to keep us quiet, to forget about this moment, to forget about this scar… I would rather live in a box than see you like this again. So, don't you dare say that this was the best thing that could have happened to us!"

He didn't have the time to process what she had said, let alone calm her down, because she ran away from the hospital wing, crying her eyes out. Cassius couldn't help but feel regret. He really shouldn't have said that. Maybe it was apathetic for him, but some pain and a scar felt like they were worth guaranteeing his sister's happiness. And yet, she seemed sadder for some reason. He might have gotten hurt, and the whole thing wasn't even his fault. He didn't choose to fight Longbottom, and he definitely didn't know that the fucking boy who lived would go insane in the middle of the duel.

And it wasn't like he was foolish enough to do anything like it again.

Before Cassius could figure out what was going on, he heard the noise of a throat being cleared. He jumped and turned, only to stiffen when he saw the intruder.

The closest thing he could have compared the figure to would have been a weird ministry worker. The man – it was definitely a man's body – was wearing a business suit, with an odd hat, that probably went out of fashion decades back. The only reason he stiffened would have been because he recognized the face. It was one he had seen many times in the Daily Prophet, a face that should have been dead, "Barty Crouch?"

"Not quite. I just borrowed this face. I rather like my privacy, you see."

"And you picked a dead man's face for that?"

The figure shrugged, "Why not? Everyone in this country knows that the man is dead, so you'd know that this is a disguise, and this is far more comforting than weird shadows and glamours, don't you think? That's not to say that I didn't take enough precautions. Look around you, no one even noticed that something odd is happening."

"Who are you and why are you here?" Cassius asked, feeling unnerved for some reason at the man in front of him. He felt like prey in front of a large predator, and he definitely didn't like it. It didn't make sense, the man did not make any threatening move, yet Cassius wanted to lash out like a cornered animal.

"Oh, the direct approach. I like it," the figure commented, "Well, I wouldn't have hidden my face if I planned on telling you my name, would I? Let's just say that I'm a very concerned citizen. I saw what happened to you, and how Dumbledore was covering it up. A student almost died in an event he created, by the hand of his star apprentice to make it worse. And he called it an accident… How disgraceful. I can't imagine how much he pressured you to not go after him…"

"You're joking, right? This is Dumbledore. He didn't have to say anything for me not to make noise about him."

The man's smile widened, "How would you like for some help then? A bit of influence to go after your headmaster…"

Cassius froze once more before shaking his head, "I already signed a paper that I wouldn't go after them…"

"No, you signed that you wouldn't go after Longbottom. Dumbledore's negligence is another matter entirely… When you think about it, it would be in the greater good of magical Britain for the man to finally be accountable for his mistakes, right?"

"You might be right, but I'm happy with what I have. I won't risk my family's future on a wild lead, which will barely give me any vindication," Cassius denied.

He was telling the truth. The young Slytherin saw no point in going after Dumbledore. He had gotten everything he'd ever wanted to thanks to the deal with the Longbottom Matriarch. He wasn't going to do anything risky to jeopardize his sister's future.

"And by your family, you mean your sister, right? Young Ivy, I believe, such a bright young girl. She should go to Hogwarts soon, right? I was curious about her, so I looked her up," he took out a couple of photos, "This is a photo of young Ivy in the playground, one with her eating ice cream with your father. How cute… It would be a shame if something happened to her, right?"

"You son of a bitch!" Cassius leapt at the man who dared threaten his sister, only to pass through him.

"Oh, come on. There's no need to be so aggressive. I'm not actually here, this is just a projection, an illusion of some sort."

"Stay away from my sister!" the young Slytherin yelled.

"I have no intention of harming young Ivy. But the world can be so dangerous. Tell you what, just because I'm nice, I'll pretend that you didn't try to attack me. I'm just going to let you think about my offer and I'll get back to you in a week to get your answer. Don't worry, I'll find you then…"

And just like that, the man faded away into nothing, but the photos in his hand slowly drifted down onto the floor. The bastard wasn't bluffing…

Shaking, he picked them up and noticed that his scar was bleeding again. He was immediately accosted by Madam Pomfrey, "Mr Warrington, are you feeling alright?"

"I don't think so…" he simply whispered, more to himself than for her benefit.

He wasn't fine. Until the end of the day, his hands shook, and he kept shivering every time he remembered what happened in the hospital wing. What was he going to do?

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