Spring settled over Hogwarts the way it always did, quiet at first, then all at once. The lake thawed. Windows stayed open longer. Students stopped wearing scarves indoors and started pretending they had studied all year. Classes rolled on. Quidditch matches filled the weekends with shouting and questionable flying. Clubs met after dinner. Essays piled up on desks like stubborn weeds.

Life at Hogwarts.

And before anyone noticed the shift, the castle had reached that familiar stretch of the year when seventh-years stopped laughing quite as easily.

N.E.W.T.s were coming. Dozens of students spent their evenings buried in books, pacing corridors, muttering incantations under their breath, or attempting last-minute brilliance that usually ended with smoke or embarrassment. The library stayed full long after curfew. Even the common rooms had gone strangely quiet.

One of those days, Cassian was standing in Dumbledore’s office when the moment arrived.

The Headmaster sat behind his desk, fingers laced together. Bathsheda stood near the window with her arms folded, watching the grounds without really seeing them. Harry stood in the centre of the room, shoulders tight, trying not to look as nervous as he felt.

Cassian studied Harry for a moment, then grinned. “I told you I wouldn’t let you take your N.E.W.T.s with Tommy’s soul within you, Potter. That’s cheating.”

Harry gave an uneasy laugh.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Can’t have you getting coaching from a Tommy mid-exam. Standards would collapse.”

Harry rubbed the back of his neck. “Didn’t think of it like that.”

Cassian stopped in front of him. The grin faded. “I’m going to kill the Horcrux now. But it will hurt. A lot.”

Harry’s shoulders stiffened.

Cassian patted his shoulder. “I worked over the months to come up with a better way, but it’s not possible. I’m sorry. You’ll have to hang in there.”

Harry looked down at the floor for a second. Then he nodded. “I figured it wouldn’t be pleasant.”

Dumbledore watched them both carefully but didn’t interrupt.

Bathsheda turned from the window and stepped closer.

“The fragment inside you isn’t anchored the way the others were. It’s fused. That means I can’t just break it like a cursed trinket.” Cassian tapped his temple. “I’ve got to reach in, isolate it, and tear it free without taking pieces of you along for the ride.”

Harry swallowed. “Right.”

Cassian glanced at him. “You’re allowed to be worried.”

“I am,” Harry admitted.

Cassian nodded approvingly. “Good. Means you’re paying attention.”

He turned toward the desk and began clearing space. Books slid aside. Ink bottles drifted to the edge and settled there.

Then he looked back at Harry. “Sit.”

Harry pulled a chair forward.

Bathsheda moved to stand behind him, one hand resting lightly on the back of the chair.

Dumbledore remained still, watching carefully. He had been off fighting the Marauder when Cassian used it on Voldemort. Although he heard screams. He knew it’d be painful.

“Important rule,” Cassian said. “When it starts hurting, don’t fight the magic. Fighting makes the fragment cling harder.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “That’s comforting.”

Cassian shrugged. “Truth rarely is.”

He raised both hands. White light spilled over his fingers.

Harry felt it straight away. Heat rolled off Cassian’s hands. It felt closer to standing near a fire on a cold evening. Something else came with it too, a strange lift in his chest that he couldn’t quite place, gentle, almost comforting. For a moment it felt strange standing there waiting for something painful while the air around Cassian felt… calm.

Cassian watched his expression.

“You noticed?” he asked.

Harry nodded. “It feels like a Patronus.”

Cassian hummed under his breath. “It is. Kinda.” He flexed his fingers slightly. “A variation of it. Patronus magic runs on a very specific fuel. Memory tied to identity. Something bright enough that your magic anchors around it. That’s why Dementors hate it.”

Harry tried to smile. “Yeah. I remember that part.”

“Right.” Cassian lifted his hands slowly, bringing them level with Harry’s temples. The glow brightened as the distance closed. “What I’m doing here uses the same foundation. Positive alignment. Soul resonance. Think of it like… using Patronus light as a torch inside a dark cave.”

Bathsheda moved closer behind the chair.

“Before he starts,” she said, “we’re putting precautions in place.”

Harry turned slightly. “Precautions?”

Bathsheda lifted her hand. Silver light flashed. Chains formed out of thin air and wrapped around the chair. They tightened across Harry’s arms, waist, and legs before locking into place.

Harry blinked down at them. “Is this really necessary?”

Cassian shrugged. “Last time I did this the patient tried to bite me.”

Bathsheda gave him a look.

Cassian raised a hand. “He failed.”

Harry shifted experimentally. The chains held firm.

Bathsheda leaned forward slightly so Harry could see her. “When the pain starts your body will try to fight. The fragment inside you will do the same. These keep both of you from doing anything stupid.”

Harry nodded. “Fair enough.”

Cassian let out a breath. “Here we go.”

He brought his hands closer. The white light brushed Harry’s temples. Harry flinched slightly. The warmth deepened. It spread through his skull like sunlight moving through water. For half a second Harry thought maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

Then Cassian’s fingers moved. The warmth twisted. Harry felt something tug deep inside his mind. Then the pain hit.

His hands clenched against the chains. “Bloody hell-“

He squeezed his eyes shut. The pain sharpened instantly, digging deeper, like someone had reached into his skull and grabbed something with hooks.

Bathsheda rested one hand on his shoulder.

“Breathe,” she said. “Slow breaths.”

Harry tried. The first breath came out ragged.

Cassian’s eyes narrowed as the light tightened around his hands.

“Found it.”

Harry felt something shift in his mind. A cold presence. Something that had always been there, lurking just out of sight. A weight he’d carried so long he’d stopped noticing it.

Now Cassian’s magic had wrapped around it.

The thing recoiled.

Harry gasped as the pain doubled.

“Focus,” Cassian said.

Harry forced his eyes open. “On what-“

“On you,” Cassian said.

Inside Harry’s head something began to move.

“Listen carefully,” Cassian said. “That thing’s tangled through your thoughts. It’s borrowed space inside you for years. If you panic, the lines blur. Makes my job harder.”

Harry’s breath came fast now.

Bathsheda leaned closer.

“Think about what’s yours,” she said quietly. “Your memories. Your choices. The parts of you that belong here.”

Harry clenched his teeth. “Alright.”

Cassian’s fingers shifted slightly.

Harry screamed.

The sound ripped out of him before he could stop it.

The fragment fought. It clawed against Cassian’s magic, twisting through Harry’s mind like a snake trying to burrow deeper. Harry’s body jerked violently against the chains.

Bathsheda tightened her grip on his shoulder. “Harry. Stay with us.”

Harry gasped.

Images flickered through his mind. Cold laughter. Green light. A voice whispering through corridors of memory.

The presence pushed back. Harry felt it trying to flood through his thoughts.

Cassian’s voice cut through the chaos. “Push it away.”

Harry clenched his jaw. “How-“

“Separate it,” Cassian said. “Find the parts that aren’t you.”

Bathsheda nodded. “The anger that feels wrong. The cold. The voice that never belonged to you.”

Harry focused. The pain burned through his skull but he forced himself to think. His parents. Ron. Hermione. Neville. Ginny. Luna. Cassian. Sirius. Dumbledore. Quidditch matches. The castle. The first time he cast a Patronus. Those things felt bright and warm

Then there was the other side. The hatred that wasn’t his. The hunger for power. The voice that spoke in the back of his mind.

Harry latched onto that difference.

“That part,” Cassian said. “Hold it there.”

Harry gritted his teeth. “I see it.”

Cassian nodded. “Good lad.”

Inside Harry’s head the fragment twisted wildly. A broken cry tore out of him as Cassian began pulling. The sensation felt impossible to describe. Something tearing loose from the centre of his mind. Something old and furious. The fragment shrieked in a voice Harry could almost hear.

His whole body shook violently against the chains. He forced his thoughts to stay anchored.

Ron laughing. Hermione arguing. Neville teaching him about plants. Ginny flying past him on a broom. Car rides with Sirius. Classes with Cassian. The Burrow in summer. The smell of the castle kitchens.

Within Harry’s mind something shifted. At first it felt like a flicker in the darkness. Then the shapes formed. White light gathered inside him, pushing through the pressure Cassian’s magic had already forced into the fragment.

Three figures emerged. A snake, a doe and behind her came a stag.

Cassian’s eyes widened.

“Well I’ll be-“

The three Patronuses moved without hesitation. The serpent tightened its coil around the fragment’s edge, pressing inward. The doe lowered her head, light pouring from her form as she pushed against the shadow. The stag stepped forward beside her, bracing like a wall.

The darkness recoiled.

Bathsheda looked sharply between Harry and Cassian. “What?”

Cassian didn’t take his eyes off the magic. “He’s got help.”

Inside Harry’s mind the Patronuses pressed together, their light blending with Cassian’s magic. The fragment shrieked in agony, twisting, trying to slip through the pressure.

It couldn’t.

Harry gasped. The pain didn’t vanish, but it lessened a lot.

“Harry,” Bathsheda said. “You’re almost there.”

Harry nodded weakly, sweat running down his face.

Cassian adjusted his grip, white light tightening around the fragment. The fragment screamed.

His magic wrapped around it like a net. He dragged the fragment upward. Harry shouted as the final resistance broke loose. For a moment the thing clung to the edges of his mind, clawing desperately for purchase.

Then Cassian yanked it free.

A jagged shard of black light burst out from Harry’s temples into Cassian’s waiting hands.

The fragment writhed inside the white glow, twisting and snapping like a trapped animal.

Harry collapsed forward against the chains, breath ragged.

The serpent, doe, and stag faded slowly, their work done.

Bathsheda leaned forward slightly. “You have it?”

Cassian held up the fragment in answer. The fragment hissed silently, black smoke curling against the white magic holding it tight.

He studied it for half a second. Then he closed his hands. White light snapped inward. The fragment shattered.

Harry slumped back in the chair, eyes half-closed.

The chains loosened immediately and slipped away into nothing.

Bathsheda crouched beside him. “You alright?”

Harry blinked slowly. His head felt… quiet. For the first time in years.

He touched his forehead carefully.

“It’s gone,” he said.

Cassian shook his hands, vanishing the last bits of light.

“Yeah,” he replied. “That parasite’s officially evicted.”

He glanced at Dumbledore. “Your brain is now one hundred percent Dark Lord free. Congratulations.”

Harry let out a weak laugh. Then he leaned back in the chair, breathing hard while the tension drained out of him.

Cassian stepped back from the chair and stretched his shoulders. “Those three showing up helped a lot.”

“What happened?” Dumbledore asked.

Cassian was still staring at Harry with a frown.

“A doe and a stag Patronus showed up,” he said. “And a snake. All three piled in and helped pin the soul piece down.”

Dumbledore’s eyes widened behind his glasses. “Lily… and James.”

Cassian nodded.

When he replayed the moment in his head, it almost made sense.

Almost.

He’d seen something like it before. The day in the forest with Snape. His Patronus did strange things when it brushed against someone else’s happiest memory. If someone stood close enough to that tree of light while thinking about the memory that formed their own Patronus, the magic sometimes tugged it out on its own.

That was how he’d discovered Snape’s doe.

So the snake made sense. Harry had been separating his own thoughts from Voldemort’s during the pull. Sorting memories. Clinging to what was his and pushing the rest away.

That fit.

But the stag and the doe…

Cassian scratched his jaw.

Harry had been thinking about his parents, sure. They sat right at the centre of most of his brighter memories. Still, a Magick only produced one Patronus. Well… mostly.

Harry wasn’t James.

He wasn’t Lily.

Their Patronuses appearing alongside his didn’t make much sense.

Bathsheda followed Cassian’s line of thought for a moment before shrugging lightly.

“Maybe the fragment tried to cling to memories tied to them,” she said. “Your magic pushed against it and their Patronuses surfaced through the link.”

Cassian tilted his head.

“Possible,” he admitted.

Harry blinked between them. “You’re both talking about my brain like it’s a museum exhibit.”

Cassian gave him a grin. “It sort of is today.”

Dumbledore stepped closer, studying Harry’s face.

“How are you feeling, Harry?” he asked.

“Lighter,” Harry said. “That’s the best way I can explain it.”

Cassian pointed vaguely at Harry’s scar. “Do you want that healed?”

Harry blinked. “What?”

Dumbledore’s head snapped up just as quickly. “Can it be healed?”

Cassian shrugged.

“Now it can,” he said. “Before today the scar was tied into the Horcrux. Healing it would’ve meant tugging on the fragment too.” He gestured toward Harry. “But the soul piece is gone. What’s left is a scar.”

Harry stared at him. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah. Without the fragment it’s nothing mystical anymore. Just damaged skin and some messy magical residue.” Cassian tilted his head. “Ugly one too, if we’re being honest.”

Harry lifted a hand and traced the shape lightly.

“Unless you’re attached to it for branding purposes.” Cassian said.

Harry lowered his hand. His eyes drifted briefly to the floor before lifting again.

“I used to wonder what it actually was,” he said. “When I was younger I thought it might’ve been the Killing Curse. That it hit me and… left a mark.”

He shook his head.

“Then later I thought maybe it was the Horcrux. That the soul piece did something when it attached.”

He glanced at Dumbledore, then back to Cassian. “But it never really felt like that.”

He took a slow breath.

“My mum died protecting me,” he said. “That’s what stopped Voldemort. Her magic. So I started to think that… maybe this is that. Maybe it’s the mark left behind when the curse hit her protection and bounced off.”

He gave a small shrug. “I don’t know if that’s how it works. But I’ve had this since I was a baby. It’s the only thing I have from that night.”

Cassian studied him, then shrugged. “Fair enough.”

Harry blinked. “That’s it?”

“Your face, mate. If you fancy keeping the lightning bolt, that’s your call.”

Harry laughed softly.

Cassian pointed lazily at him as he turned away. “If you change your mind later, drop by. I’ll patch it up in five minutes.”

Harry nodded. “Thanks.”

Cassian waved a hand. “Don’t mention it.”

(Check Here)

“Bless me, Father, for I have read.”

“And?”

“I had many thoughts.”

“Did you share them?”

“I am here, am I not?”

—

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