Chapter 123: Master of Fire (2)

Monday evening found Catherine in the Library, deeply engrossed in her Ancient Runes homework. She was still grappling with the pronunciation in Lumerith, feeling personally challenged after Professor Oakenscript had praised Snape's flawless articulation and rewarded Slytherin with ten points. "Lumenaris exidium, velorrras thar doth arrrrden yath dorrr vakorr."[1] – the young witch read softly – "No, it's still not correct!"

"Because you're not quite hitting the 'r' sounds correctly." - remarked Gwendolyn Lockhart, settling into the seat next to the fourth-year.

"Please, not you too! It's enough that I have Snivellus correcting me all the time!" – the girl moaned.

"Well, he's not wrong. Attention to detail is crucial if you want your rituals to be effective." – the older witch replied with a casual smile.

"Do Ravenclaws have any concept of kindness?" – Catherine asked helplessly.

"Not when it comes to knowledge. It's not kindness to let someone persist in error when you can help them improve." – Gwendolyn replied.

"Sure…" – the black-haired girl sighed, still not entirely convinced – "I just can't seem to figure out why I struggle so much with this!"

"The four known ancient languages each have distinct pronunciations. Selenithra is soft, emphasising vowels like e, o, and u. Sylvanor is clear and crisp, focusing on sibilants and stops. Murkantar is intense and resonant, with guttural consonants and deep vowels." – the seventh-year explained – "Some may come easier to you than others. It's fascinating, though I'm unsure what determines this. Remember, struggling with Lumerith now doesn't mean you won't master it eventually. Don't rush your education!"

"Thanks for the encouragement." – the other witch smiled appreciatively – "By the way, Gwendolyn, have you heard the expression: Luxen dor vakor thar eradon dor ethel, venith tharnath dor yath ther dor elder?"

"Light and darkness are one and whole, though they seem to dwell in different forms." – the Ravenclaw stated thoughtfully.

"Yeah, I know that's how you translate it, but I'm curious about its origin and true meaning." – Catherine said, sensing the familiarity with the phrase she couldn't quite place.

"It's a common formula found in various sources, often used in rituals. As for its origin, I'm not sure." – Gwendolyn remarked, deeply in thought, her blue eyes, staring at the distance – "Perhaps, I can ask my older sister Giselle. She graduated two years ago, you probably don't know her. She currently works as researcher with the Mystic Hollow Institute in the United States, specialising in History of Magic. There's a higher chance of her knowing about the origin of the phrase than me. I prefer a more practical approach to Ancient Magic."

"If you don't mind, please ask her." – the Gryffindor agreed, deciding it was time to call it a night.

"I'll include it in my next letter to her." – the older girl nodded, adding with a smile – "If her response proves to be intriguing enough, we'll probably discuss it during Christmas with our whole family. They're all academics, and such topics are cherished at our dinner table!"

"Sounds… lovely." – Catherine responded, unsure about her feelings toward her friend's family traditions.

"It's not everyone's cup of tea." – Gwendolyn chuckled – "My younger brother hates it profoundly, but he's a bit different from the rest of us. You'll see next year when he starts attending Hogwarts."

"Looking forward to it." – the young witch replied mechanically, pondering what exactly registered as 'different' in the Lockhart family.

[1] May the light banish darkness, revealing truth and peace.

***

Tuesday started quite ordinarily for Catherine. She woke up at six-thirty, swiftly gathered her belongings from the floor, and dressed in leggings and a long-sleeve shirt before meeting James outside. Despite it being mid-October, the mornings were chilly and damp. The young witch had grown accustomed to the intensity of their workout routine, feeling physically stronger despite the boys' concerns about her weight. Unfortunately, her mental state was not as robust. Persistent bad dreams were beginning to wear on her nerves. What troubled her even more was the chaos that greeted them in their bedroom each morning. While the other blamed Peeves for the mess, Catherine couldn't shake the feeling that it might somehow be connected to her. The one night she hadn't had nightmares coincided with the only time everything in the room was in its place, further fuelling her suspicions.

The fourth-year longed to share this burden with someone. While Greg was theoretically an option, she hesitated, not wanting to worry him. She was painfully aware that strange occurrences in her family had always been linked to the demon she carried.

'At least I can talk with Dumbledore tonight.' – Catherine thought as she stepped out of the shower. Although the girl usually enjoyed the refreshing feel of water on her skin after a workout, she now avoided the showers during busy hours. The young witch had found out with annoyance that she felt extremely uncomfortable being naked around her female classmates. The Gryffindor was fully aware that nobody had really looked in her way twice, but the uneasiness persisted nonetheless. That's why Catherine dressed up in her school uniform as quickly as possible, purposefully avoiding her reflection in the mirrors.

Classes seemed to drag on longer than usual. Ancient Runes was particularly challenging; Catherine's pronunciation remained far from perfect, while Snape was once again praised by Professor Oakenscript who made him read passages from his homework in front of the entire class. The black-haired girl wasn't irritated by his success itself. What infuriated her, however, was the Slytherin glancing at her with a slight smirk playing on his thin lips, every time he pronounced a word containing the difficult 'r' sounds she struggled with.

By dinner time, the fourth-year Gryffindor already had a headache, exacerbated by the usual noise of students chatting excitedly. The upcoming Halloween Ball dominated every conversation, accompanied by plenty of giggles and whispers. Catherine, who was in no mood for thinking about that particular set of problems at that moment, finished her meal in a record time and headed towards Dumbledore's office.

She paused at the door, taking a moment to steady herself. It felt as though she was about to leap into a bottomless chasm. 'Stop being such a scaredy cat!' – the girl scolded herself and knocked firmly.

"Come in!" – came the Headmaster's voice from within. Catherine had always found something special and comforting about the large circular room, filled with murmurs from the many portraits hanging on the walls. Dumbledore's countless unusual magical artifacts glinted in the candlelight, some of them emitting a hypnotic buzz. Fawkes was taking a nap, his head tucked beneath one of his magnificent crimson wings.

"Good evening, Professor." – the young witch greeted politely.

"Good evening, my dear!" – the Professor beamed warmly at his student – "I trust you've had some time to recover, for we have much to cover tonight."

"More or less." – the girl mumbled under her breath. Catching Dumbledore's questioning look, she added – "I have a headache."

The wizard swiftly stood up and opened one of the nearby cupboards, retrieving a small bottle filled with red liquid.

"This is a special recipe from Professor Slughorn." – Dumbledore explained with a smile as he handed Catherine the vial – "Effective, though it takes a while to work."

"Thank you, Sir." – the girl replied, downing the surprisingly bitter remedy.

"Yes, the taste isn't great." – the Headmaster commented with a twinkle in his blue eyes, peering over his half-moon spectacles – "Please, take a seat. Before we begin the practical aspect of our lesson, there are a few matters we ought to discuss."

"What's there to discuss?" – Catherine asked, her tone defensive as she settled into one of the plush armchairs by Dumbledore's desk. Her mind raced, preparing for any unexpected questions she might need to deflect regarding certain activities she was certain the Professor wouldn't approve of.

"To start, I wanted to ask if you've had any more dreams you'd like to talk about." – the older wizard smiled empathically at the tensed expression on the fourth-year's face.

Catherine took a deep breath and fixed her green eyes on the Headmaster. "I haven't had any dreams like the ones I had before, but I've been having trouble sleeping because of constant nightmares. In them, I see people being tortured and killed in horrible ways… by me."

"My dear girl, you must understand that none of the things you've seen, no matter how real they felt, were committed by you!" – Dumbledore's voice held urgency – "You are your own person, and the atrocities that demon wrought through your unfortunate ancestors are not your responsibility, nor can you be blamed for them!"

"Easier said than done." – the Gryffindor sighed heavily – "I try to believe it, but it's very hard when I can feel what she feels. It's so disgusting… Sometimes I feel like I can't stand being myself anymore."

"This is exactly what she wants, isn't it?" – said the wizard, prompting the young witch to stare at him in confusion – "As I've said before, Catherine, I believe for the demon to break through the barrier, she needs to isolate you and make you feel alone and desperate enough that you're willing to give up control. Then, she'll be there to take it from you and consume your soul in the process."

Catherine felt her throat dry as parchment. Summoning all her courage, she managed to mumble with tremendous effort. "Then what should I do, Sir?"

"In my opinion, you're doing very well on your own, my dear!" – Dumbledore smiled encouragingly – "Follow your instincts and lean on your friends. Their love and companionship protect you far better than I or your family ever could. I also believe that learning to use true fire will further strengthen your resilience against any influence the demon may have on you."

"Professor, there's something else I need to tell you about." – Catherine hesitated briefly before deciding to disclose the strange occurrences in the girls' dormitory. The Headmaster listened attentively, his expression unreadable.

"Do you think it could be Peeves' doing?" – the girl finally asked, her hope dwindling.

"Peeves can't enter the premises of the Common Rooms and the Dormitories." – the old wizard answered contemplatively – "I'm not entirely sure what is happening, but please let me know if anything else occurs besides finding your belongings scattered every morning. In any case, once you gain some degree of control over true fire, I'll begin teaching you Occlumency. To prepare for that, I'd like you to try clearing your mind every night before you go to sleep."

"Alright, but can't I start learning Occlumency now?" – asked the girl impatiently.

"Training to be an Elementalist is incredibly demanding and exhausting, despite your undeniable talent, Catherine." – Dumbledore warned with a slight smile – "I wouldn't risk your health by adding the complexity of Occlumency on top of it. We'll get to that eventually."

"You're the teacher." – the young witch said sulkily, dreading another sleepless night ahead.

"Technically, I'll be your Master of Fire which is the correct terminology for your Elemental Magic instructor." – the Headmaster noted with a slight smirk under his white beard.

"I know that." – said Catherine, still perturbed.

"As you know very well, the first step for every Elementalist is to open themselves to their respective element." – Dumbledore explained, pretending not to notice his student's dissatisfaction – "It's akin to entering a meditative state that allows you to connect with your element and eventually use it in various ways. Over time, it becomes almost instinctual, but initially, it may take considerable time and effort to learn."

"How will I know if I've achieved it?" – asked the girl eagerly, leaning forward in her chair.

"Oh, believe me, you'll know." – the wizard assured her – "When you're attuned to your element, you perceive reality differently. Your senses sharpen, and in our case, you become aware of every flicker of fire in your surroundings. And, of course, the glowing eyes are a physical manifestation of this state."

Catherine felt uneasy at the thought of herself with gleaming red eyes, the mark of a Fire Mage. Erin's reflection flashed in her mind, causing her whole body to shudder with anxiety. Despite this, the young witch forced herself to concentrate on the Headmaster's explanation, determined to master true fire as quickly as possible.

"Every element requires a different approach. That's why a Fire Mage can only be taught by a fellow Fire Mage." – Dumbledore continued, pacing slowly around the room while the portraits were listening attentively, some nodding with approval – "I've once heard a Water Mage explain that opening yourself to the soul of the water is all about surrendering and trust. It's quite different with true fire. You need to discover something inside you that gives you power and strength. You must confront true fire and emerge victorious so it will obey you."

"How do I do that, Sir?" – asked the young witch, who didn't feel quite in a fighting mood.

"You must figure it out for yourself." – the wizard replied, shaking his head – "It's one of the most challenging aspects of training. Your power source could be anything – an emotion, feeling, desire, idea, goal, or even a duty."

"Does this mean your power source can change?" – asked the girl, pondering what hers might be.

"Sometimes." – Dumbledore nodded – "It happened to me."

"Really? How so?" – Catherine asked, realising it might be a rather personal question.

"I once invested too much of myself into the wrong idea and the wrong person. It ended in disaster for many because of my misjudgement." – the Headmaster said softly, his eyes darkening for a moment – "Afterward, my source of power changed because my reason for fighting became protecting those who needed it."

"I don't think I'm that noble." – the fourth-year murmured to herself.

"It's not about being noble; it's about atoning for the sins I committed." – explained the wizard, his blue eyes flashing for a mere second before returning to their calm demeanour – "Regardless, when you settle on your power source, you must transform it into raw power. Imagine it as a sword or another weapon you hold in your hand. Once you achieve this, your affinity will do the rest. The fire around you will resist, and you must overcome it. If your weapon is strong enough, the fire will yield to you, allowing you to manipulate it. That's how you'll know you're open to your element."

"What's going to happen if my power source isn't strong enough to withstand the surrounding fire?" – asked the girl anxiously.

"Well, it's not a pleasant sensation, but it's not fatal." – Dumbledore replied with a slight smile – "I'll give you a brief moment and you can try whenever you're ready."

Catherine nodded and closed her eyes. She started thinking franticly about what could be a power source that was strong enough to subdue fire itself.

'An emotion, feeling, desire, idea, goal, or duty…' – she mused, nervously biting her lower lip – 'For as long as I can remember I was taught I should control my emotions and feelings, to be composed and do not surrender to impulses… Is it possible that I don't even have a strong enough power source? No! I must think harder!'

The young witch suddenly remembered her primary motivation for mastering this skill on the first place: to secure her rightful place and survive. It was a strong goal and also her duty as a daughter of the McMahon family. The girl nodded with determination and attempted to extract her resolve and shape it into a dagger. In her mind, she pictured the Skyfall Athame, every detail vivid and elaborated.

A fierce heat enveloped her, and Catherine felt as if the blood was boiling in her veins. Her breath was burning in her chest, suffocating the teenager. She opened her eyes, and for a brief moment, she thought she saw the faint outlines of a dagger in her hand, but it disappeared almost instantly, causing the fourth-year to collapse on the floor and retch up her dinner onto the Headmaster's beautiful burgundy carpet.

Trembling violently, Catherine felt Dumbledore's firm grasp as he lifted her back into the armchair. She met his understanding gaze, reassured by his calm demeanour as he swiftly cleaned his carpet with a flick of his wand and conjured a bowl of ice cubes.

"Take some of these and place them on your face for a few moments." – he advised – "Ice is the best remedy when training to be a Fire Mage."

"I guess I screwed up." – Catherine sighed, applying the cold cubes to her face and finding instantaneous relief as they immediately melted upon touching her heated skin.

"Your power source wasn't quite strong enough, but it held for a bit, which is promising." – Dumbledore praised her – "It's natural to struggle with this. Achieving mastery over true fire is an arduous task, and setbacks are to be expected."

The girl gritted her teeth. Time was slipping away, and she couldn't afford to falter now. Failure was not an option she could accept.

'Perhaps I need something more positive.' – the young witch thought, her brow furrowing – 'Maybe love could be the key. But what kind of love?'

Catherine briefly considered her friends, but her feelings toward them had become too complicated recently. Instead, she focused on her love for her family. Despite their challenges, she had no doubts she genuinely loved them.

With renewed determination, she closed her eyes again, visualising her love for her family transforming into a strong, agile bow and a quiver brimming with arrows. Anticipating the surge of heat that followed, she kept her focus until her eyes opened to glimpse the outline of a magnificent silver bow in her hands. It held for about ten seconds before dissipating into nothingness.

The sudden cold sensation on her face and neck brought the young witch back to consciousness. Dumbledore was gently holding her hand, a soft blue light emanating from his palm.

"You burnt your skin a little bit, my girl. That was a very close attempt. I believe it's enough for one evening. Your progress has been commendable."

"No!" – the girl hissed defiantly – "I can do it! Just one more try!"

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Catherine struggled with the idea that her inability to summon strong enough emotions was hindering her mastery of elemental magic. She refused to accept defeat, especially when control over true fire seemed so within reach. The memory of Snape's smirk in Ancient Runes class fuelled her determination, as she imagined his gloating if he knew of her current struggles. Suppressing her rising frustration, the Gryffindor refocused on the task at hand.

'Great! I spent most of my life confined, and now I have nothing to use as a power source! The most exciting thing that happened to me was coming to Hogwarts, and it was tainted because I have to pretend to be someone else!' – the young witch fumed unable to stop her body from shaking with rage – 'Now I can't even focus on opening myself to true fire because I'm so angry! Unless…'

Catherine gasped with sudden realisation. Pouring all her anger into the shape of a sword with a straight, slender blade engraved with dancing flame motifs, she opened her eyes to find a golden blade shimmering in her hand. The familiar heat enveloped her, but this time it felt different. The sword pulsed as if alive, absorbing every wave of fire that came its way. In that moment, she finally understood what Dumbledore meant. Every trace of fire in the room became clearly visible and present to her. She distinctly felt Fawkes, now awake and observing the lesson. Dumbledore's presence and power were also painfully evident; she was surprised by how intimately she could sense his every move and the way he handled his magic. Their eyes met briefly. Catherine couldn't contain her emotions anymore; she wanted something she couldn't even explain to herself, but instinctively she knew how to get. It was so close – at the very tips of her fingers. The intensity of that unfamiliar desire scared her. She closed her eyes, and instantly all sensations vanished.

The young witch remained in that state for a while, battling the rising dizziness. When she finally opened her eyes again, Dumbledore had placed a tall glass of what appeared to be iced coffee in front of her.

"It's better if you drink it." – he said in an unusual tone – "Coffee always helps overcome nausea during practice."

"Sir?" – the girl started hesitantly – "Is something wrong? I thought I did well?"

"You did remarkably, Catherine." – Dumbledore affirmed, avoiding her gaze.

"Then what's wrong?" – she asked, taking a sip from the refreshing beverage.

"It's a bit hard to explain." – the Headmaster responded dryly – "It's better if I show you. Do you think you could open yourself to true fire once more?"

"I guess…" – the Gryffindor said wearily. She concentrated, searching for the anger needed to summon her power once more. Conveniently, the image of Carter Thorne appeared before her. This proved to be more than enough to infuriate the girl. The golden sword shimmered back into her hand. Reality seemed hotter and drier, with every object brighter than before. Catherine looked around, mesmerised by the heightened senses. Dumbledore moved slowly beside her, his hand sweeping across the surface of his desk, transforming it into a mirror. Confused, Catherine looked at him, only to find his eyes glowing vividly red. He nodded toward the reflective surface. Startled, the young witch glanced into it and gasped, covering her mouth with her hands in surprise.

"My eyes! Why are they glowing green?!" – she choked out, her astonishment breaking her concentration and causing her to lose control of her element once again, which was accompanied by sickness and cold sweat.

"I have no idea, my girl." – the Headmaster stated sincerely – "It is the first time I've seen or heard of anything like this!"

"But I'm a Fire Mage, aren't I?" – she asked, feeling completely drained.

"Undoubtedly!" – Dumbledore confirmed, taking a seat next to the exhausted student – "And a quite capable one, at that, being able to open yourself to true fire during your first practice, not only once but twice. As for the colour of your eyes..."

"Do you have any idea what could have caused it?" – Catherine interrupted him, on the verge of tears. She really hated complications and they were everywhere around her these days.

"A few theories, each more bizarre than the last." – the older wizard admitted – "For now, it doesn't seem dangerous or to interfere with your powers in any way. I'll reach out to a few friends who are also Fire Mages. Perhaps one of them will know what could cause such an anomaly."

"I thought there weren't any other Fire Mages in Britain besides you and me." – said the young witch curiously.

"I've never said they lived in Britain." – Dumbledore smiled, stroking the phoenix's feathers as the bird landed in his lap, cooing softly – "As a matter of fact, even my own Master of Fire wasn't British. Unfortunately, he passed away a decade ago."

"I'm sorry, Sir. I know there's a special bond between a Master and their students." – Catherine said empathically.

"That's very true." – the older wizard confirmed softly – "He led a good and fulfilling life, and I'm still in touch with his son, who's a remarkable wizard in his own right."

"Is he a Fire Mage too?" – asked the fourth-year, hoping she was not prying too much into her professor's private life.

"Sadly, no." – Dumbledore answered thoughtfully – "Even if a father is a Fire Mage, there is a very slim chance his children will be born with an affinity for fire. It's unknown why the number of Fire Mages has decreased so rapidly, but some estimates suggest less than 0.5% of all wizards are inclined to fire, and the proportion of Dragons among them is exceedingly low."

"I suppose I won't know about my type any time soon." – Catherine stated hesitantly.

"Don't rush, dear. There's plenty of time before we could determine this for certain. First, you need to actually be able to summon true fire, not only open yourself to your element. This is our next task." – the Headmaster responded with a twinkle behind his glasses.

"I think I know how." – the girl remarked, thinking about the odd sensation she had felt earlier, as if she needed to desperately do something.

"Instinctive knowledge is common for Fire Mages above the Salamander level, but putting it into practice is quite another matter." – Dumbledore commented, settling back to his chair behind the desk – "However, I must insist that you refrain from attempting to open yourself to true fire without me present for the time being. It's a necessary precaution, given the circumstances."

"I understand, Professor." – Catherine agreed solemnly, finishing her iced coffee – "May I go now?"

"Yes, of course. Have some rest! See you at the same time in two weeks." – the Headmaster dismissed her.

The girl had already opened the door and was on her way out when his voice prompted her to turn back.

"Catherine! I hope the food at Hogwarts is to your liking."

"It is, and I'm already eating plenty of it…sir!" – she replied, blushing slightly, before quickly leaving and heading towards the seventh floor.