Chapter 135: The Season of the Witch (5)

Hogwarts was very different at night. Without the constant chatter and laughter of the students, every corridor was filled with crawling shadows and odd noises. Despite this, Catherine felt completely free roaming around undisturbed under the protective shield of invisibility. She didn't encounter anyone on her way and finally reached her destination—the Astronomy Tower.

The cold night air made the girl shudder a bit. Her dress provided little protection against the wind constantly present at the highest point of the castle. She removed the cloak and walked to the edge of the tower, staring at the dark sky decorated with countless stars. 

'It must be nice to fly in such a night.' – the fourth-year thought, immersing in the tranquillity of the moment – 'Sometimes I wish I were an Air Mage. Then I could soar for hours, without worrying about anything down on the ground.'

After spending a good half an hour dreaming of escaping reality, Catherine finally put the Invisibility Cloak back on and headed back towards the Gryffindor Tower. She felt a little better, the fresh night air calming her burning emotions and helping her reach a state of numb exhaustion in which she didn't care about anything. Her first kiss seemed like a distant blend of dream and memory.

As she walked along the empty, dimly-lit corridors, she briefly thought she should have also asked for the map to check if anyone was around, as her heels made some noise despite her attempts to walk lightly. As if to prove her point, Mrs. Norris appeared out of nowhere, her ears twitching restlessly as she sniffed around, coming closer and closer to the young witch, who had stopped dead in her tracks near a big window facing the Black Lake.

'Fuck! That's what I need – another chase with Filch around the castle!' – Catherine thought, annoyed, seriously considering whether she should stun the cat. That ended up being unnecessary, as the animal's attention was drawn by approaching footsteps and voices. A few small light orbs appeared around the corner, levitating at different heights, followed by Professor Thorne and Professor McGonagall, who were chatting lively. Thorne's eyes glowed silver, and the Gryffindor immediately held her breath, though it seemed her teacher was hardly interested in anything but the witch next to him. She was laughing wholeheartedly, looking much younger and happier than Catherine had ever seen her. Her whole face was glowing, and her smile was infectious.

"It was still a rather pleasant celebration." – Thorne stated with a smirk, approached the place where the fourth-year was standing – "Merlin, it's this blasted cat again! Filch may deny all he wants, but this animal trails me all the time. Shoo!"

"She does it with all of us." – McGonagall said, watching Mrs Norris' tail disappear around the corner – "But you must understand she's all that Argus has. We need to be more accommodating to his kind."

"I get that, but sometimes one wants to be alone when patrolling, especially at night." – the DADA Professor responded, his voice suddenly dropping a pitch.

"And why's that?" – the Head of Gryffindor asked almost innocently, before she found herself pressed against the stone wall, next to the window, just a few metres away from Catherine, who was staring wide-eyed at the scene in front of her.

"Well, one reason that comes to mind is that it's hard to do something like this while the bloody cat's watching." – the wizard purred seductively, his arm wrapping around McGonagall's waist.

"It's not funny, Carter!" – the witch attempted to pull away – "I know you're very experienced in flirting and all, but I am not into these kinds of games. We're both adults and colleagues. It's not professional, and I don't want my heart to be broken."

"Do you think I have any malicious intent towards you, Minerva?" – Thorne asked, releasing his grip and giving the Head of Gryffindor a bit of space so she could strengthen her clothes and regain her composure.

"No, not inherently." – McGonagall answered, the light from the globes flickering on her flushed face – "However, I know it's inevitable if I allow myself to succumb to your charm. I understand this is my problem, but I've seen how most witches look at you, even some students. I can't compete, and honestly, I don't want to. My life has been dedicated to this school for quite a while, and I don't plan on changing anything."

"I'm not asking you to change anything for me." – the wizard stated slowly, as if he was searching for the right words – "My own life is way too complicated, and I can't and won't promise you anything. I think I've always been honest about this. However, I want you to remember something: you don't need to compete with anyone. Yes, you're completely right, I've had many lovers in the past, but what I feel towards you… it's different. It's understandable that you don't trust me on that, but since I met you, you've always been on my mind, no matter where I go or who I'm with. I won't make any advances on you, and nothing will change between us. We'll continue to be friends and colleagues who like and respect each other. Just know that you're absolutely brilliant and beautiful, and there are very few women who can even come close to how special you are."

"Carter…" – the witch whispered, her hand gently cupping his face.

All at once, the light globes disappeared, but the moonlight streaming through the window was sufficient for Catherine to see her DADA teacher wrap his arms around the slender witch and hungrily kissed her. The fourth-year felt her face flushed, but she couldn't tear her gaze away. The primal moan that escaped from the Transfiguration teacher resonated through every fibre of the girl's body. There wasn't even a slight resemblance to the innocent kiss she and Remus had shared earlier. This was a needy, passionate expression of bottled up lust and feelings that had remained undisclosed for far too long.

"My quarters are on the seventh floor, close to the Gryffindor Tower." – McGonagall mumbled breathlessly.

"Are you sure?" – Thorne asked, praying to every divine entity that she'd answer affirmatively.

"I'm sure." – the witch replied with a small giggle – "I'm also sure it's a terrible idea, but I'm tired of always doing what's right."

"Well then, you're about to do someone who's wrong in many ways." – Thorne laughed, picking her up effortlessly and disappearing around the corner.

It took quite a while for Catherine to move. She was shocked and embarrassed by what she had witnessed, and at the same time, she was terrified to realise she actually wanted to see more. Shaking her head vigorously, she sprinted towards the Gryffindor Tower, entering the completely empty Common Room. Folding James's cloak, the fourth-year climbed the stairs to the girls' dormitory, eager to relax in her bed. She snuggled under the blanket and tried to block out all the memories from the night that were flooding her restless mind. Her last thought before falling asleep was that Remus's lips tasted like the caramel apple he had during the Ball, and that Carter Thorne pinning McGonagall against the stone wall was the most erotic thing she had ever seen.

***

High, vaulted ceilings with dark, wooden beams carved with ancient runes loomed above stone walls adorned with rich, animated tapestries. A grand four-poster bed with velvet curtains embroidered in protective charms dominated one side, while a large, ornately carved fireplace with flames dancing in hues of blue and green provides warmth and light. Tall, narrow stained glass windows let in soft, natural light that casts colourful patterns on the stone floor, and tall bookcases filled with leather-bound tomes on magical theory and ancient spells reach up to the ceiling.

Behind an intricately carved wooden desk cluttered with parchments and enchanted quills, a blond wizard in his thirties was reading a letter with a deep scowl on his face. He lifted his ocean-blue eyes from the parchment as a petite brunette entered the bedroom, carrying a silver tray with a pitcher and a goblet.

"I thought you might want something refreshing."- Duchess Annabella McMahon said, placing the tray on top of the desk and smiling at her husband.

"Thank you, Anna." – Duke David McMahon replied, exhaustion evident in his voice.

"Did you receive any news from Her Grace?" – the witch asked softly.

"I did, but she doesn't know of any ritual that could help with Rosa's nightmares." – the man answered with a hint of desperation.

"How's that even possible?!" – Annabella cried helplessly – "All this knowledge and power of the seven Houses, and you're telling me there's no way to extract that thing from my sweet angel!?"

"We've been trying to find a solution for hundreds of years!" – David exclaimed, standing up and pacing around the room nervously – "And we're nowhere near making any progress. The truth is that we don't know what Morgana did and why. We only deal with the consequences of her greed. You know what those nightmares and the leaking magic mean, my wife… We don't have much time left. Once the demon starts invading her mind and transferring her power, there's no turning back."

"But she's only five!" – the witch sobbed, sinking to her knees – "We have to find a way to slow this down or at least lessen her suffering! She sees horrible visions even during the day now! Yesterday, she asked to meet her brothers, but I'm afraid they might be hurt by the leaking magic. It's so hard to disappoint my little girl when she asks for such small thing."

"It pains me to see her like this too." – the Duke said softly, kneeling next to his wife and embracing her – "But we have to be prepared that Rosamund is not going to be with us for much longer. We can't allow the demon to go berserk! This will only result in unnecessary deaths and suffering of innocent people!"

"What about our daughter? Isn't she innocent too?" – the woman wept uncontrollably in her husband's arms – "I can't bear the thought of losing her, David! I just can't!"

"Mommy!" – a faint cry reached the couple from the adjoined bedroom. The Duchess quickly rose to her feet and went to check on her daughter. The wizard also stood up and returned to his desk, picking up the letter Duchess Prince had sent him earlier.

A sudden scream sent chills through his veins. He quickly grabbed an old wooden box stored in a secret compartment of the nearest bookcase and took out the dagger inside, along with three vials that appeared to contain human blood. The aristocrat wasted no time and broke the glass containers. The dark red liquid splashed across the blade, which shimmered faintly. Darting towards Rosa's room, the wizard could sense raw waves of magic power that somehow felt filthy and wrong. A disturbing gurgling sound made him stop abruptly. He took out his wand and opened himself to the soul of the water as he entered the dim room where Rosa had been sleeping just a minute ago.

As his eyes got used to the darkness he spotted some movement, accompanied by a gruesome sound that became more clear with each cautioned step he took.

"Lumos!" – the Duke almost whispered, the light from his wand revealing a scene from his worst nightmares. Annabella was convulsing on the floor in a pool of blood spraying from the open wound on her neck. A small blond figure, dressed in white nightgown was kneeling next to the witch's head. Hearing the wizard's footsteps Rosa turned towards her father. The sweet innocent face of the child was unnaturally pale. Her otherwise blue eyes were now bright red and her pink lips were covered in blood. Rosa grinned maniacally revealing a set of sharp teeth.

The loud sound of apparition jolted David McMahon back to the painful reality in front of him. His knees gave way, and he would have hit the floor if not for the strong arm of Marquess John Whiters, who helped him back up.

"I didn't expect this to happen so soon." – the red-headed wizard growled, his eyes gleaming with red glow – "We need to take care of the demon first. You'll have time to mourn them later. Duty before all!"

"Duty before all!" – the Duke mumbled, clutching the Skyfall Athame in his trembling hand, as he was joined by Duchess Prince and Duke O'Dargan. The four aristocrats stepped forward, staring with hatred at Lady Rosamund McMahon who was still laughing, rocking back and forth above the corpse of her mother.