“Ronan. Bane.” Hagrid gave them a curt nod.

The centaurs returned it, but their sharp eyes flicked past him, landing square on Harry, then shifted to Cassian.

“You saw him?” asked the chestnut one, Ronan, if he was correct.

Cassian’s nostrils flared, “I fucking saw him, alright. Unicorn is safe for now, but not for long. You’d better pray to the Forest Mother to keep them under her skirts. That thing’ll come back.”

Ronan’s hand brushed the shaft of his bow. “We felt his presence. Foul magic lingers on the wind.”

Cassian gave a laugh, though there was no humour in it. “Foul magic is putting it politely, mate.”

Bane’s eyes burned in the dim lantern glow. “We warned the Headmaster not to bring the thing here. Now the forest suffers for his gamble.”

Cassian stepped forward, boots crunching on the damp leaves. “Oh, don’t start wagging your fingers at me. I didn’t smuggle whatever-that-is into a school full of bloody children. I am just the poor sod trying to keep these kids from ending up in an obituary.”

Bane stamped the ground, “Then take them back to their castle. This is not a place for human children.”

Cassian tilted his head, his grin tight. “Glad we agree.”

“Go. The shadows deepen with every breath he takes.”

Cassian gave him a faint smirk. “Thanks for the pep talk.” He turned sharply on his heel, jerking his head at the kids. “Move. Now.”

When they reached the castle, Cassian turned on the kids before they could scurry off.

“Miss Granger, get your Gryffindor boys back to their rooms. Now.”

Hermione nodded so fast it was a wonder her head stayed on. She grabbed Harry and Ron by their sleeves, hauling them towards the stairs before either of them could say a word.

“Hagrid, lead Mr Malfoy, please. He is your problem.”

Malfoy looked like he swallowed a lemon whole, but Hagrid just grunted and nudged him forward with one meaty hand. The boy didn’t dare argue.

Cassian waited until their footsteps faded down the corridor, then spun on his heel and strode straight for McGonagall’s office. He didn’t bother with niceties, marched up, planted his boot against the doorframe, and gave it a solid kick. The door rattled but stayed shut.

He raised a fist and hammered three sharp knocks.

The door flew open before his knuckles hit wood for a second, harder round of knocks. McGonagall stood there in her tartan pyjamas and dressing gown, hair pinned up, glasses slightly askew. Follow current novᴇls on novel[f]ire.net

“Professor Rosier,” she said, voice clipped, nostrils flaring faintly. “What on earth do you think you are doing?”

Cassian slammed his palm against the stone wall with a loud crack that made her flinch.

“What the hell do you think you are doing? Huh? Sending eleven-year-olds into the Forbidden Forest to chase down whatever’s been butchering unicorns? Do you know what I saw out there, Minerva? Because if you’d been standing where I was, you’d never send a student into those trees again.”

McGonagall’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Lower your voice.”

“Lower my—? Oh, absolutely fucking not.” Cassian leaned forward, teeth bared in a sharp grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “Do you have any idea what’s out there? That wasn’t some oversized cat nicking meat from the kitchens. That thing nearly tore a Unicorn apart. And you thought detention would be a smashing time to play scavenger hunt?”

Her jaw clenched, but she didn’t blink. “I… I thought Hagrid was chasing trails of a wild creature…”

Cassian barked a laugh. “And that makes it alright, does it? They’ve been here, what, eight months? Best of them can manage a handful of charms without setting their sleeves on fire. And you send Hagrid, no wand, and me, worst spell-caster in the damn castle, into the Forest with them. It’s a bloody miracle they didn’t end up as forest floor fertiliser.”

The sound of quick footsteps echoed down the corridor. Sprout appeared first, cheeks flushed, Flitwick a step behind her clutching the hem of his robe to keep up.

“What is happening?” Sprout asked, breathless.

Cassian didn’t turn. “Oh, nothing major. Discussing the wisdom of sending first-years into the Forest. At night because staff room is bored. Come and join us.”

Pomona looked at McGonagall, who with a huff explained, “Four first-years who broke curfew were punished by being sent to assist Hagrid with a task in the Forbidden Forest. That’s it.”

Flitwick’s brow furrowed. “You took first-years into the Forbidden Forest?”

Cassian swung round to glare at him, finger stabbing the air. “I didn’t take them anywhere, Filius. Minerva handed me a lantern and said, ‘Good luck keeping their limbs attached.'”

McGonagall’s lips tightened. “That is enough…”

“No, Minerva. It bloody well isn’t,” Cassian snapped. He shoved his hands into his hair, pacing a short, tight circle before rounding on her again. “Whatever it was, it wasn’t some wild creature. You knew something was hunting the precious pure creatures of the forest, and you assumed it was just another forest creature? Wake up, Deputy Headmistress. Not even Acromantulas hunt unicorns. Nothing in the wild does. Only the most foul, corrupted things do.”

Flitwick’s face paled slightly. Sprout’s hand flew to her mouth.

Cassian let out a short, mirthless laugh. “Oh, don’t look so shocked.” He flung a hand at McGonagall. “This place is cursed. I’ve said it since day one.”

Flitwick shifted uncomfortably. “What did you see?”

Cassian stopped pacing and looked him dead in the eye. “A hooded thing. Pale face. Red eyes. It touched the unicorn like it was drinking it dry. Potter’s scar nearly split him in half the second it looked at him.”

Three of them exchanged a look. Cassian threw up his hands, pacing half a step before stopping dead.

“Say it. Go on. Whatever it was, it was dark. Might as well get it out now.”

Sprout fiddled with the hem of her sleeve but stayed quiet. Flitwick’s brow furrowed as he glanced at McGonagall, clearly waiting for her to speak first.

Minerva pressed her lips together, her gaze hard on the wall like it held the answer. “We all thought—” she began, but Cassian cut her off with a sharp wave.

“No. Not what you thought. What it is.” He jabbed a finger toward the door. “You are all clever enough to see the pattern. So say it. Say his bloody name if you’ve got the spine for it.”

McGonagall’s hands clenched around the edge of her robe. “It cannot be him.”

“Of course not.” Cassian’s laugh came sharp and humourless. “Why would the biggest bastard of the century still be kicking around, draining unicorns in our backyard? Obviously that is too simple.”

Flitwick’s voice came almost a whisper. “We cannot assume—”

“Oh, Filius, don’t give me that,” Cassian snapped, turning on him. “Something with a face like melted wax and eyes like fire just tried to rip the life out of a unicorn. That’s not some lost Dementor looking for its hat, is it?”

Sprout shifted uncomfortably, but still said nothing.

Cassian punched a wall, jaw tight. “It is him. Or some half-life version of him. Voldemort.”

The name landed like a curse. McGonagall flinched, her mouth a thin, hard line. Even Sprout’s hands froze.

“…Merlin protect us.” Flitwick said, clutching his collar.

“Thought so,” Cassian said bitterly, pacing again. “No one wants to say it, but it is bleeding obvious. He’s not gone. He is out there, crawling, trying to claw his way back.”

McGonagall’s eyes narrowed. “If it is him…”

Cassian snorted, shaking his head. “Whether or not it was him, keep my students out of that bloody forest. Or so help me, I’ll tear this castle down brick by brick.” He raised a hand before any of them could jump in. “And don’t give me the whole ‘we care deeply about their wellbeing’ speech. You lot cornered me in the Headmaster’s office for shutting Malfoy up, and now you pull this. Hilarious. I don’t want archaic punishments, no more romanticised detentions in murder woods. If you lot can’t get that, I will have the Prophet on your doorstep, and if that doesn’t do it, I will drag half the Sacred Twenty-Eight here for tea and a full-blown scandal. That, I promise.”

They stared as he turned on his heel and strode off.

The corridor swallowed his footsteps until only the faint echo of his boots remained.

Flitwick let out a quiet cough, glancing sidelong at McGonagall. “He does have a point.”

Minerva pressed her lips tight, before she let out a sharp sigh. “He has more than a point. He has an entire argument.”

Sprout didn’t say a word, her eyes still fixed on the spot where Cassian had stood.

Back in his office, Cassian shoved open the door and tossed his wand onto the desk. The pens scattered as he dragged a hand down his face, letting out a groan.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered. “Kids hunting unicorn killers, Voldemort playing ghost in the forest… and me stuck in the middle like some overqualified babysitter.”

He slumped into his chair and stared at the ceiling.

‘You had to go and transmigrate into this circus, didn’t you.’

The chair creaked under his weight as he leaned back, eyes narrowing at the half-marked essays piled on the corner of his desk.

He tipped his chair back and let it go. Landed flat. The thud rattled the ink bottle. Cassian didn’t bother picking it up.

“Because fuck me too,” he muttered.

Spoiler

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Author Rant ↓ 

Spoiler

I put on a battlefield in flames and got the same reaction I’d expect from showing a teaspoon. Maybe teaspoons are just underrated.

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