After realising he was the only one who remembered, Cassian tried to shove those memories into the corner of his mind where he kept unpleasant things, like Old Cassian’s cruel acts.

He’d been studying Occlumency for years now. He wasn’t brilliant at it, but he’d got far enough to wall things off when he needed to. Burying memories was manageable. Forgetting? Not so much.

Supposedly, a master Occlumens could erase a memory so cleanly it left no echo. He’d read that. And he didn’t buy it.

Either he was worse at the skill than he thought, or, and this one sat heavier on him, there was something about him that made it impossible. He was leaning toward that. Because things weren’t adding up.

Why had Nicolas Flamel failed to wipe him clean?

He’d asked himself that too many times. Not just a curiosity anymore, closer to dread. Was it strength? Some secret resistance? That felt too flattering. More likely it was tied to one of the five theories he’d scribbled back when he was just learning Mind Arts.

He leaned more toward theory two. The ugly one. The one that implied there was something inside his mind that didn’t play by anyone else’s rules.

And once that idea landed, his brain, ever helpful, started connecting dots.

None of them pretty.

Closing his eyes, he went back to the second summer he spent in this world. Outside a cave, Norway. Wind sharp off the cliffs, runes etched into the stone like someone had tried to trap a storm inside it. That was when he saw Yrsa.

Then Hilde screamed and dropped frozen. Said she saw something. Something ancient clawing up from the stone.

And just recently, in the temple, it had happened again. Different country, same cold crawling up his spine. He touched the stone, saw the creature and it appeared.

No. No. No. Wait. Not then. Not exactly. His mind was moving slower now. More careful. Peeling back what he’d skipped earlier.

He hadn’t known what it was at the time, but he knew better now.

Hilde’s best friend. What was her name? Irsan.

Cassian’s brow twitched.

Connecting all that into what Nicolas and the Old Master said, it started making an awful kind of sense. Why they wiped memories. Why they made sure no one ever wrote the creature’s name down. Why they refused to even say it.

Because remembering called it.

Not metaphorical or some poetic nonsense about “power in names.” Literal. Remembering brought it back. Thinking about it properly, naming it, opened the door.

And Cassian had kicked the bloody door off its hinges.

His stomach tightened. He swore under his breath.

If it wasn’t for the memory of Hilde and her friend, he’d have assumed the creatures came when he called. Would’ve put that weight squarely on his own shoulders. He lost days of sleep with that thought. But now… now he had another theory. Still dreadful, but with a side of relief.

It wasn’t him bringing them through.

He was the gate.

The interface in his mind had been feeding him spells for years now, dredging up bits of language older than most textbooks dared mention. Some came with mild memories. Some came with dread, for example, Lumos Noctis. As far as he knew, nothing came out of it. No rip in the sky. No monsters from under the bed. The creatures from that cursed memory hadn’t appeared.

Which meant he wasn’t summoning anything. That was the important part.

Same thing with Yrsa. With Krouna tou Kakou. He hadn’t brought them in. He’d seen them.

That day inside the cave, when Hilde dropped like someone had yanked her lungs out through her spine. 

Cassian had touched it first. Then Yrsa appeared in his mind.

And Hilde said something. Called out her friend. Irsan.

He could see it now, Hilde turning, rattled, grabbing her friend’s sleeve, saying something like, “Irsan, you need to see this.”

And the thing stirred.

Then in the temple, it happened again. He’d muttered to himself “Ekthélo… Krouna…” Not loud enough for anyone to hear. Shouldn’t even have said it. But similar to memories, it wasn’t his decision. Words just came out on their own. Like he had to name them.

A passing scholar turned his head, repeated it louder. “Krouna? Ekthélo?”

And just like that, it arrived. Or remembered itself into the space.

He could track it now, dot to dot. Thought to word. Word to door.

The moment you said the name, properly, aloud, when you remembered it with weight, with truth, it came.

And Cassian, oh, wonderful Cassian, had been wandering around, muttering things he didn’t understand, like a bloke lighting matches in a room full of powdered fireweed.

He closed his eyes and dragged both hands over his face.

And the reason why he couldn’t forget these details, well, a gate had to remember.

Cassian stared at the ceiling.

“Fuck me.”

***

When Cassian and Bathsheda returned home, autumn was close. They’d spent two months in Greece after the incident, last month Aurora and Septima joined them… it was long enough that the Mediterranean sun had left them both tanned. Cassian hadn’t decided yet if that was an accomplishment or evidence of poor life choices.

It wasn’t hard to enjoy Greece. The air tasted of salt and citrus, and the days slid into a lazy routine. Bathsheda had a habit of dragging him out early, claiming the beaches were quieter before the tourists poured in. Cassian didn’t argue, he liked the quiet too.

***

Back at home, he was holiday-tired… the kind of tired that came from too much sun, too much wine, and the occasional regret about that last glass of ouzo. He checked the mirror, tan looked good, though it probably would fade the moment he stepped back into the English drizzle. He barely set his bag down before the familiar creak of floorboards made him glance up.

“Back, are you?” his brother Lucian drawled from the hallway, arms folded like he’d been waiting there the whole time. “Thought you would finally done the world a favour and drowned in the Aegean.”

“Tempting,” Cassian said. “But then who would be here to brighten your dreary existence?”

Lucian’s mouth curled faintly… something between amusement and disdain. “Three months away and you are still insufferable. Impressive, really.”

Cassian didn’t rise to it. He brushed past. “Lovely chat as always. Let’s do it again never.”

He heard Lucian snort behind him but didn’t bother looking back.

On his way up, Cassian caught sight of Selena. Her eyes flicked over him giving him a once-over. “Nice tan. Was Greece educational?”

He gave her a crooked smile. “Thanks. So the whole family knows my whereabouts at all times? That is comforting.”

Selena smirked faintly. “I wouldn’t say all times. Only when it’s worth gossiping about.”

“Ah. Better than nothing I guess.”

Selena raised an eyebrow with a teasing smile, “Don’t flatter yourself. It was more about family name.”

He let out a soft huff “Of course it was. I am just an accessory to name.”

“You said it, not me.”

Cassian glanced back, deadpan. “You are supposed to say, ‘Oh no, Cassian, you’re terribly important too.'”

Selena only shrugged. “Why lie?”

His lips twitched, “I see the family missed me as much as ever. Did they take bets on whether I would come back in one piece?”

“Not officially,” she said. “Though Uncle Armand owes Grandmother five Galleons.”

Cassian blinked. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

Selena’s smile widened. “Am I ever?”

“Terrifying,” he muttered. “Truly terrifying.”

“You should be careful,” Selena said lightly. “They are in the study. All of them.”

Cassian paused mid-step. “All?”

“Mm. Grandfather’s chair hasn’t stopped creaking since this morning. Aunt is pacing. Damien is trying too hard.”

He blew out a breath through his nose. “Brilliant. Nothing like a warm welcome after three months in the sun.”

Selena tilted her head, eyes glinting. “You are tanned. That will annoy them too. Makes you look like you enjoyed yourself.”

“That is practically a crime in this house.”

“Exactly.”

Cassian rubbed the back of his neck. “And you? Still using my room as your private spell lab?”

Selena gave a mock gasp. “Me? Never.”

He raised a brow.

“…Alright. Maybe once or twice. But I didn’t blow anything up.”

“That is a first.”

“Progress,” she said simply.

Cassian’s lips quirked. “Where are you off to? Finally escaping this hellhole?” He nodded at her bag.

Selena raised a brow, hitching the strap higher on her shoulder. “My Advanced Studies start soon.”

“Ah, of course.” He hummed, leaning against the banister. “Do say hi to Madam Goshawk for me, won’t you? The old bat had me sweating bullets during my NEWTs.” Discover more novels at novel-fire.ɴet

Selena smirked faintly. “She will probably say you deserved it.”

“I will let you know, she called me Outstanding once.”

“I find it hard to believe,” She turned to leave. “Don’t burn the house down while I am gone.”

“One of these days…” He watched her disappear down the corridor.

Cassian lingered a moment longer at the top of the stairs. Time to get this over with.

He stepped into the study without knocking.

Eyes turned on him at once.

Magnus sat in his usual chair by the fireplace, posture stiff, sharp blue eyes raking over Cassian. Regulus leaned against the edge of the mahogany desk, arms folded tight across his chest.

Cassian offered them a lazy half-smile. “You all look thrilled to see me. Warms the heart.”

“Cassian.” His father’s voice was formal as usual. “Sit.”

He dropped into the chair with all the grace of someone making himself very much at home, crossing one ankle over his knee.

“What is the issue?”

Viola scoffed. “What is the issue, he says.”

Cassian smiled faintly, keeping his mouth shut.

Regulus answered instead. “Lucius is plotting something.”

Cassian mocked a gasp. “Colour me shocked.”

“Don’t play dumb,” Damien said sharply from his place by the bookshelf. “This isn’t one of your little classroom games. He’s been making moves against the family for months. It is serious.”

“Serious enough to call the full council?” Cassian asked, his voice light but his eyes narrowing slightly.

Regulus’s fingers drummed against the armrest. “Yes. We believe he is trying to undermine the Rosier assets in France. He’s already pulled a few strings in the Ministry there.”

Viola cut in, irritated. “It is not just France. His influence is seeping into the German and Italian circles as well. He is consolidating power… slowly, but it is there.”

Cassian hummed. Seemed Lucius was still butthurt about last year.

Lucian strolled in, dropped into an empty chair near Regulus, and said, “Why are you explaining to him? When has Cassian ever had a valuable opinion?”

The room shifted slightly, shoulders loosening as if he’d spoken some undeniable truth. A couple of them even hummed in agreement. Cassian was still Cassian, after all. Whatever merit he scraped together lately, it hadn’t washed off the family’s long-held opinion of him.

Regulus’s head turned sharply, his grey eyes hardening on his elder son. “Let him say his piece.”

Lucian’s jaw tightened. “Yes, father.”

Cassian’s grin curved. “You know, I am touched. I can almost taste the confidence radiating off you, brother. But since you are all so eager for a miracle…” He slouched lazily. “Pull all your investments from France.”

The room went deathly still.

For a beat, no one breathed. Then voices erupted all at once.

“Are you mad?” Viola barked, her chair scraping as she half-rose.

“You can’t be serious,” Armand growled.

“Do you even know how much of our assets are tied there?” Basil demanded.

Cassian let them roar. He watched it like a man idly observing fireworks… calm, almost bored, but with an unmistakable glint in his eye.

“This is what happens when you humour him.” Catherine’s eyes flicked coldly to Regulus. “You wanted him to speak. There, he spoke.”

“Wait,” Cassian said lightly, lifting a hand. “Before you start drafting my obituary, let me finish.”

The room quieted reluctantly.

He tilted his head, letting the silence drag just enough to be irritating. “Pull from France, yes. And push it into Muggle companies. Their energy firms, their telecoms, their tech companies springing up all over the place. You want security? Diversify. You want growth? That is where it is.”

If the room had been still before, now it was frozen.

Genevieve blinked slowly, like she wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. “Muggle companies?”

“Correct.” Cassian’s grin widened. “They are stable, regulated, and very busy conquering markets our kind hasn’t even glanced at. And in case you haven’t noticed, their population isn’t shrinking. Unlike us.”

“Have you lost what little mind you had?” Armand barked, his face darkening to a shade Cassian found rather satisfying.

“Entirely possible,” Cassian said with a shrug. “But answer me this… how many magical markets have collapsed in the last ten years? Belgium’s wandlore guild? Gone. Swiss alchemy exports? Crippled. Meanwhile, Muggle markets are breaking records every bloody year.”

“They are filthy,” Viola hissed. “Do you even hear yourself?”

“Oh, I do,” Cassian said cheerfully. “And so will you when Gringotts forecloses on half your ‘pure’ portfolios.”

Lucian glared at him, the one he saved for his duelling partners. “You think you are clever, don’t you? This family doesn’t crawl to Muggles for scraps.”

Cassian’s eyes glinted. “No, you are right. You would rather drown in Gringotts notes that aren’t worth the paper they are printed on.”

“Enough,” Regulus said.

The shouting stopped. Even Lucian flinched slightly.

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