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In hindsight, Cassandra would remember the smell most clearly. The images of what she had seen were quite vivid, of course, but the smell had been something else different. The wet air was ripe with mould and decay. The dreadful inferi, with their rotten flesh, had been burning after the many fire spells they had used to defeat them. It was all too much. She remembered her knees going weak in the aftermath of the killing curse. Mr. Sallows body, unmoving, on the dirty crypt floor. Like a discarded puppet. There had been some noise as well.
Of course, there had been noise. Sebastian’s heavy breathing. Anne's wailing over the body of her uncle. Cassandra was confident that at one point Anne had screamed at her brother. But it had been muffled to her ears even then, and later, it had blurred together into indistinguishable background noise.
Anne had disappeared with her uncle's body. Sebastian had scrambled to his feet, unevenly and with jerky movements, and had run out. Cassandra had been the last of them to move. It had taken a considerable amount of strength to push herself off the wet ground. Her legs were like jelly. Wobbly, like the small fawns she had seen at the edge of the forest only last night.
Last night felt like it belonged to another world. A world that, while filled with dangerous foes and keeper trials and magic straight out of a fairy tale, still made some sense.
While Cassandra had started to run after Sebastian through the darkened crypt, she couldn't help but feel like she had just lost something within herself. A part of her had been hurting ever since she had seen Ranrok kill his own brother in front of her. Mr. Sallow had been part of Sebastian's family. And while she had only met the man a few times, he had been ... familiar. A wizard. A guardian of two of her friends. A living, breathing person.
'Not anymore', a quiet voice within her said.
The air outside was a blessing and a curse all on its own. It was still frigidly cold and windy. The ever-present snow stuck to her short hair and melted into her clothes. But it was also clear and smelled only of the nearby sea. No burning corpses and mouldy graves.
Sebastian had stopped just outside the cursed crypt. And Cassandra was thankful for it. She didn't know if she could find it in her to chase him much longer tonight. They ended up screaming at each other. Of course, they did. Sebastian was just as upset as she was, but he was also clearly angry. At her and Ominis, at his uncle. Maybe even at Anne. Most certainly at himself as well, even if he never said so. Cassandra had spent enough time with her friend to tell. And maybe, if she hadn't spent all her energy fighting and running - if her mind had stopped showing her Mr. Sallows twisted body - if she could forget that awful smell - maybe she would have found enough empathy within her to try and sooth Sebastian's anger.
But she was tired, upset, and in dire need of comfort, and found she only longed for Sebastian to shut up.
And, eventually, he did. They stared at each other, for a moment, both teenagers distressed, cold, and aching for support they couldn't provide for each other just yet.
"Hogwarts", Cassandra said. "We need to get back."
"Yes", Sebastian nodded, breaking their eye contact at last. But he didn't move. "Go ahead. I need some time..."
She had not argued. She was tired of arguing with him and didn't know what else she should have said anyway. Thankfully, her broom still lay nearby. She kicked off the frozen ground, clinging with numb fingers to the smooth wood. Above the trees, the wind was even worse. It hit her face and burned her exposed skin. Sebastian had vanished into the night.
'There's nothing to be done now. Maybe tomorrow...' But she felt tired and empty at the thought, and she knew this wasn't something a potion and some sleep would repair.
The night went on, and Cassandra wondered what had happened to Ominis. Had he made it back to the castle? Had he been able to find Black and talk to him? Dread filled Cassandra.
What would happen now? She could imagine all sorts of consequences, none of which were good for them. While her knowledge of the magical law was extremely limited, there surely was no way Sebastian’s actions would not end in anything less than a prison sentence.
She remembered her brief visit to Azkaban quite vividly and shivered.
"No", she said to herself. She was barely able to hear herself over the wind in her ears. "I can’t let him go there. No."
But even with all her magical prowess and battle aptitude, she didn’t know how she would be able to prevent this. She knew there was no way to fight themselves out of this. And she doubted she would be able to come up with a good enough lie to protect her friends.
Mr. Sallow’s death was nothing they would be able to hide from the world. It wasn’t a secret they could keep between them. Maybe Ominis or Sebastian could come up with some kind of explanation. Cassandra had no way of knowing how Mr. Sallow’s neighbours would react to his sudden death. And, surely, if the law were to be involved, like it had been in Hogsmeade, they would be found out.
Fear squeezed her tight.
By the time she could finally see Hogwarts looming in the darkness before her, it was late at night. Curfew had long come and passed. A snowstorm had met her halfway home and persisted ever since. Cassandra was so cold; she didn’t know if she would be able to walk all the way back to her common room. Or even if she would be able to land in front of the castle without falling over.
But any concerns about a graceful landing abandoned her mind at the sight that awaited her at the gates. There, standing in the darkness, three piece suit covered in snow, was none other than her Potions Professor, Aesop Sharp. And he was looking straight up at her, waiting.
Her mind was racing, but no thoughts came to her. No words. As Cassandra hit the ground, stumbling but not falling, she knew she was done for. Her broom slipped from her hands and mind at the same time.
She was staring into the professor's disgruntled face, her mind coming to a sudden stop.
Later, she didn’t know how much time had passed until Professor Sharp gave up staring at her. He gestured roughly behind himself with one hand and simply said: "Inside, now."
The walk to his classroom felt both too short and too long. Cassandra stumbled at one point and was only saved from falling flat on her face by Sharp’s hand on her elbow. She didn’t dare to look, but she knew he was watching her closely. And what a sight she must have been. After battling both Mr. Sallow and the swarm of Inferi, she was surely covered head to toe in all sorts of grime. Maybe even blood. After all, Mr. Sallow had hit her more than once with his spells. She was too numb to feel any pain just yet, but she knew she had suffered at least some injuries.
While Professor Sharp loosened his iron grip on her arm, he didn’t fully pull away from her either. Maybe he was afraid she would fall over. Or bolt from him. Both scenarios felt strangely possible.
The potions classroom was just as gloomy as the world outside. But there was some warmth, at least inside the castle. Her professor dragged her into his small office adjacent to his classroom. There, he gestured to the single chair. "Sit down."
She did.
Sharp pulled his wand from his coat—Cassandra couldn’t help but flinch and knew he had seen—and gestured towards his desk. A soft towel appeared before her, alongside a steaming cup of... tea? Another flick brought a couple of candles to life.
"Take it", Sharp said, gesturing toward the towel. "You are drenched. And then you are going to tell me what you were doing. Outside. At night." His voice was devoid of emotion but left no room for arguing.
"Sir... I-", Cassandra faltered. Her mind was just static noise, frantic thoughts scrambling around and coming up with nothing to say.
Sharp sighed, shifting his weight away from his injured leg. Still staring her down. "Are you hurt?"
"I don’t think so", she said. Voice just as small as she felt.
"You don’t think so", he repeated. "But you do not know?"
When he received no answer, he stepped aside and rummaged through a shelf, coming back only a moment later with a rather familiar green potion.
"Drink this, then. You remember what this is?"
"Wiggenweld potion."
He nodded, holding the potion out. "I see my lessons are not totally lost on you. Drink it."
Again, Cassandra did as she was told. The familiar bitter taste lingered on her tongue.
The effect was almost instantaneous. The numbness in her hands changed into a tingly feeling, and the same happened to her legs. The subtle pain in her head vanished, leaving her lightheaded. And strangely uneasy.
Someone took the vial from her hands, and Cassandra suddenly realized that Sharp still stood right in front of her. Waiting for her to get a grip on reality and explain herself.
In the absence of pain and numbness, panic suddenly flooded in.
"Professor. I’m sorry. I really am. I don’t know what I was thinking. I just ... I don’t know. I-", she said, trying to find anything she could say to get him to relent. Just for tonight. She needed to get away and talk to Ominis. To Sebastian. Come up with a story. Anything she could use to explain what Sharp had seen. Both of them were so much better at this than she was. Cassandra knew she was fumbling with small lies even at the best of times. This ... this was beyond her abilities.
Sharp cut through her ramblings. "I do not need your apologies. Tell me what you were doing outside tonight."
"Tonight", she said, fidgeting in her seat. In lieu of looking at him, she took the towel and ran her hands over it. Suddenly, her wet hair bothered her. Her wet clothes stuck uncomfortably to her skin. She wanted to wash the sticky grime from her skin, to get dry and warm. To get away from that crypt, as far away as possible, by banishing it from her very memories.
"Miss Pentaghast", Sharp said, impatiently shifting his weight from one leg to the other. "It might have slipped your mind, but it is late. Extremely late. Tell me the truth so we can get this over with."
"I’m sorry-"
"We’ve been over this. The truth. Now."
Cassandra suddenly felt violently sick. She leaped to her feet. She couldn’t do this. The truth? They would all be expelled from school. Sebastian would face Azkaban. The truth was... a horrible, wretched thing. It was too big to be wrapped into a silly white lie. It could not come to light, maybe never.
"Professor, please", she said, looking at his face for the first time. Unsurprisingly, he was angry. His lips pressed tightly together, like he did when they melted one of his cauldrons in class. But there was also something else. Something Cassandra instantly recognized, even if she couldn’t process it now. Something she had not expected to see. He was worried.
"If this has to do with Professor Fig, I can assure you I will get to the bottom of it. I've turned a blind eye on the both of you for too long already. This has to stop, one way or another. I can help you; just tell me."
And oh, Professor Fig. Poor, old Professor Fig, who had put all his trust in her. Hone your magic, he had told her. And she had gone, behind his back, and had enabled Sebastian to experiment with dark magic. She had even learned two unforgivable spells herself. She felt guilt and shame fill her stomach with molten lava.
The picture of Professor Fig’s kind smile in her mind morphed into another face. Ominis, who had warned her, who had made her promise, repeatedly, to leave it alone. Ominis changed to Poppy, who always looked at her with such kind eyes. Poppy, who wouldn’t hurt an animal, let alone innocent people, despite her upbringing. Next, Natty, standing in the great hall, telling Cassandra the terrible story about her father's death. She imagined Natty standing over her father's body like Anne had stood over Mr. Sallow’s. Like Cassandra herself had stood over Lodgok’s not that long ago. Helplessly, filled with dread.
"Miss Pentaghast?"
Guilt washed over her. She would never be able to meet any of them again. She was sure they would know it instantly. She could not even lie about trivial things. Hiding any of this ... impossible. But at the same time, how could she avoid it? Professor Fig was counting on her to finish the trials. Find a way to harness the ancient magic within her and fight their enemies. Poppy and Natty, who always sought her out, who would both be able to see right through her, would ask her, and she would tell them, and then-
Her head started spinning again.
"Miss Pentaghast. Breathe. You’re not-"
Her head was filled with static, with noise, with the groans of inferi, the electric noises of spells, and Anne’s screams.
‘Run. I need to run.'
Cassandra spun around, grabbing for the doorknob. It did not move.
"- not leaving here before you-"
Not leaving. Trapped. She was trapped. Inside the darkness, inside the crypt. With the undead. With the cold body of Mr. Sallow. They were close. Had to be.
Because she could smell them now. That terrible smell of rotten flesh, mouldy graves, and fire. The smell of death.
And something moved behind her.
Shaking hands reached for her wand as she spun around. But before she could find a target, before she was able to reign in her magic, it was forcefully pulled out of her hands.
This was it. Mr. Sallow, his eyes dark and dead, loomed in the darkness before her. Demanding she stand down and die. This was the punishment for her failures. Because deep down, she knew she was just as guilty for his death as she had been for Logdok’s.
Her back hit a wall of ice-cold stone. There was nowhere left to run. The room was now barely lit. In black and white, death came to get her. Just like in the last trial. But now she had no cloak of invisibility. No elder wand. Not even her own wand. There was no way to defend herself. Terror flooded her. The world twisted on its axis, unsteadily.
Her legs gave out beneath her, and then-
A hand grabbed her shoulder. But, surprisingly, it wasn’t death’s bony fingers, and it wasn’t Mr. Sallow’s big, cold ones either. The hand was warm and gentle, holding her carefully still. Then another hand grabbed her, pulling her in.
Her face was pressed into something warm and soft.
"Breathe", a low voice said, close to her ear.
One hand on the back of her head, another on her shoulder, rubbing soothing circles into her cloak.
Not unlike what her father had done for her when she was younger and upset by something. The memory of her father’s face broke the feeble hold she had over her emotions.
Tears sprang to her eyes. She grabbed for the person holding her and wept.
She cried for Mr. Sallow and Logdok, both dead because of her. For Anne, who now had to live all alone, was cursed in many ways. For Natty’s guilt over her father's death, for Poppy’s sad face when she spoke about her parents, who wouldn’t speak to her. For Sebastian, who only wanted to help his sister. For Ominis’ who had tried to stop it all. She even sobbed for Professor Fig, who had lost his wife, and had put his faith in someone who clearly couldn’t be trusted with it.
And she cried for herself, too. She missed her parents, missed her home, missed not knowing about ancient magic and keeper trials and how it felt to end the lives of poachers, loyalists, trolls, and all the others.
It took Cassandra a long time to stop crying. And even longer before she came back to herself.
Her nose was still pressed against something soft and warm. The smell of death had left her, replaced by the scent of earth, herbs, and strong tea. Something she had smelled before but wasn’t familiar with.
And it took her a considerable amount of time to realize that it was Professor Sharp’s thick coat she had buried her face into. Cassandra slowly started to take stock of the situation. She was sitting on the cold stone floor, leaning heavily onto her potions professor. Who was still holding her carefully close. Like he was afraid she would shatter before his very eyes.
Or maybe because she just had.
"Miss- ... Cassandra? Are you back with me?", he asked in a soft, soothing voice. Very much unlike the strict potions master she had come to know.
She hadn’t found her own voice quite yet, but she nodded against his coat.
He pulled away from her slowly and eyed her blotchy face.
"Good." He watched her a moment longer, and she realized that he was just as much out of his element as she was. He frowned at her, his dark eyes searching her face for.. something.
Embarrassment heated her face and pooled in her stomach.
"Sir, I’m sorry ... I-", she started to say, but he cut her off.
"Don’t", he said, shaking his head. "An apology won’t be necessary."
He winced, a pained expression tight on his face as he sat back.
‘His leg,’ Cassandra thought, the next apology already on her mind as he abruptly spoke.
"We need to get off this damn floor."
The following minutes were filled with Professor Sharp’s colourful curses as he tried to regain his footing with her help. The absurdity of the moment brought a small smile to her face. Which he, of course, saw. But instead of reprimanding her, he gave her a very short-lived and loop-sided smile of his own.
While her professor dusted off his clothes and carefully shook out his bad leg, Cassandra looked around. The candles had burned down, but even so, the small office wasn’t as dark as it had been when Professor Sharp had first ushered her in.
‘It’s already past sunrise’, she realized, looking out the small window. Her nose was stuffed, her head empty, but her chest finally felt light enough to breathe. He must have been sitting with her for a very long time. Shame filled the empty space in her belly where before terror and fear had sat. But somewhere in the back of her mind, she was also grateful for it.
She turned away from the window and caught Professor Sharp’s eyes.
"Professor ... what ... what’s going to happen, now?" Her voice was just as unsteady as she felt. Would he sit her down, make her confess everything? Cassandra knew if he asked her now, if he demanded answers from her this morning, she would fold and tell him everything.
"Now? I will escort you to the hospital wing."
"Professor-" she tried to argue but was swiftly cut off.
"There, the nurse can check you over. I have to say, I do not trust your earlier assessment of your own health any longer. No use arguing." He added and gave her one of his strict glares. The normalcy of it somehow eased her a little.
But contrary to his words, the professor didn’t move. Instead, he eyed Cassandra carefully and asked, after a moment: "Are you in danger? Did something happen to you?"
"No!", she said quickly. Too quickly. She turned away from him to avoid eye contact. She could feel her face heating up even more. Mortified, she pictured herself, red like a tomato, with dirt and snot all over her face. Falling apart like this and in front of her teacher ... A part of her wanted to run and hide and never face him again.
"Miss Pentaghast", he said, lightly touching her shoulder. Getting her attention back. When she looked up at him, he simply said: "Fine. But we will talk about this." He sighted and, finally, relented. "But later. After you’ve got some rest."
"Later. Okay. Thank you, sir. Truly."
"For now, you are safe. I hope you know that nothing bad will happen to you here."
Cassandra felt... relieved. She was exhausted beyond anything she had ever felt, ashamed, and still determined not to tell on Sebastian. But relieved, nonetheless.
Professor Sharp gave her a complicated look. "But do not think I will forget about it. We will talk about it. And I will get answers."
"Of course, Sir."
Later, after a long and silent walk through a strangely quiet Hogwarts, Cassandra found herself in one of the soft beds in the hospital wings, a dreamless sleeping draught warming her belly. She could hear Professor Sharp and the nurse close by, quietly talking.
This would be complicated. She would have to tell Professor Fig about her encounter with the potion’s professor. It was clear he was at least suspecting Fig of something. Something that also had to do with her. And she would have to tell Sebastian and Ominis about it, too. Oh, Sebastian... She wondered if he had come back to the castle yet, if he was fine, and if she should have said something.
But sleep was catching up on her fast now, bringing a strange but welcome sense of peace with it. The quiet voices behind her had stopped talking. Had they left? She felt a sudden uneasiness, a tight feeling in her chest that squeezed her heart. Fear. But just as she started fighting the sleeping draught, she heard Professor Sharp’s calm voice: "Rest. We will figure it out later.”