"I just got here a moment ago," Cassian Drayke replied calmly.
"Why do you look so pale?" Cassandra asked, her brows knitting in concern as she examined his face.
"I didn't sleep well last night," he said with a faint smile. In truth, he hadn't slept properly for two days, having spent nearly all that time inscribing the anti-curse enchantment on the pendant for Borgin—an artifact designed to absorb and deflect the Killing Curse, at a cost of draining the bearer's mana instead.
"You should've rested at my house that day," she scolded gently. "If you start school with your body already run down, you'll regret it."
Before Cassian could respond, a familiar voice interjected. "Ka—Miss Cassandra? You know him?"
It was the same chestnut-haired boy from earlier—the one who'd smugly assumed Cassian was a Muggle. He stared between them, his expression twisting with disbelief. Cassandra, after all, came from a prominent wizarding family and rarely gave the time of day to her peers, much less shared casual conversation with a boy dressed in Muggle clothes and carrying no visible luggage.
"And who might you be?" Cassandra asked icily, barely glancing at him.
"I'm... Sheila Dan. Sheila Dandelin. We met at a party two years ago," he added hopefully.
Cassandra raised a brow. "Did we? You must not have made much of an impression."
Sheila flushed with embarrassment. "Ah... well..."
"Come on, Cassian. Let's find a good seat—I'm not sitting in the hallway like a commoner," she said, dismissing Sheila with a flick of her hair and walking confidently toward the enchanted entrance to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
Cassian followed, not bothering to spare Sheila a second glance.
Passing through the concealed barrier, Cassian emerged onto the bustling platform. The scarlet Hogwarts Express steamed gently at its station, students swarming around it, pushing trunks and saying their goodbyes.
Cassandra strode ahead, turning heads with her graceful poise and striking looks. Her polished black boots clicked elegantly across the ground, and her confidence shimmered like a protective charm.
Cassian kept his distance until he noticed a commotion. A slightly older girl, probably a second-year, stepped in front of Cassandra with a sneer.
"Well, look who's parading around like she owns the place. You're a first-year, you know. Show some respect to your seniors," the girl snapped.
Cassandra stopped, eyes narrowing. "Panessa, was it? Don't think you can throw your weight around just because you've had a year's head start. If you don't like my attitude, then duel me. Let's settle this properly."
The air around them crackled. Students nearby turned eagerly, murmuring in anticipation.
Panessa scoffed and drew her wand. "Gladly. Leg-Locker Curse!"
"Furnunculus!" Cassandra shouted at the same time.
The spells collided mid-air. Cassandra stumbled briefly, legs stiffening, but Panessa was launched off her feet, crashing down as her skirt flipped up, flashing her undergarments to the entire crowd.
A shriek of horror followed as Panessa scrambled to cover herself, cheeks flaming.
Cassandra casually undid the leg-locker curse with a flick of her wand. "Honestly, dressing like that at twelve—who exactly were you planning to seduce?"
A ripple of laughter echoed among the onlookers.
But the drama wasn't over yet. A sharp beam of white light suddenly shot out from the crowd—a Shattering Curse aimed straight at Cassandra's face.
Cassian's reflexes kicked in instantly.
"Protego!" he cast without hesitation, raising an invisible shield in front of her. The spell deflected, slamming into a wall with a crack.
Cassandra turned sharply toward the source, just as a slightly older boy—probably thirteen—descended from a levitation charm, landing awkwardly nearby.
"So," Cassian said coldly, stepping forward, wand still in hand, "a sneak attack during a duel? You've got the makings of a proper dark wizard."
The boy blanched, already trembling. But Cassian wasn't done.
"How do you want to handle this one?" he asked Cassandra, gesturing toward the trembling boy. "If it were up to me, I'd introduce him to something a little... educational. But this is your moment."
Cassandra smirked and lifted her wand. "Incendio."
A burst of flame erupted, lighting the boy's trousers on fire. He yelped, rolling on the ground, swatting at the blaze. Screams and laughter rang out around the platform.
"Let's go," she said, unfazed by the chaos. The crowd instinctively parted as Cassandra and Cassian walked together toward the train.
Just before stepping onto the train, a small voice piped up from the crowd. "Aguamenti!"
A brown-haired girl, no more than ten or eleven, cast a stream of water toward the now half-naked boy, whose pants had burned away entirely. The water hit him too late—he was already bolting for the far end of the platform, trying to cover himself.
Inside the Hogwarts Express, Cassandra found an empty compartment, flicked her wand to close the door, and took a seat with one leg crossed elegantly over the other.
"Nice timing back there," she said, tilting her head at Cassian with a charming smile. "Thanks."
He shrugged. "We're friends. It was nothing."
"Speaking of school," she said, adjusting her skirt, "have you thought about which House you'll be sorted into?"
"Which... House?" Cassian echoed, puzzled.
"You don't know?" Cassandra blinked in disbelief. "Are you seriously telling me you know nothing about Hogwarts?"
"I know Dumbledore is headmaster," Cassian replied honestly. "But I spent most of my time studying spells—not history or school culture."
Cassandra rolled her eyes but smirked. "Of course you did. Alright, let me give you a crash course. Hogwarts has four Houses: Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor."
"Slytherin is for the ambitious and cunning—obviously the best. Ravenclaw's full of socially awkward bookworms. Hufflepuff? Kind-hearted fools who probably cry over crushed flowers. And Gryffindor's packed with self-righteous loudmouths who think recklessness is bravery."
"You've clearly got... strong opinions," Cassian said, amused.
"I'm just being honest," she said coolly. "So? Will you come to Slytherin with me?"
He considered that. He wasn't particularly drawn to any label, but Cassandra's confidence and loyalty were a force to be reckoned with. Besides, if most dark wizards were born from Slytherin, perhaps it would be the best vantage point to study them—and outmatch them.
"Let's see what the Hat says," he answered.
She frowned slightly, not pleased with the noncommittal answer.
"Don't tell me you're leaning toward Ravenclaw."
"I don't think the Hat cares what you're wearing," he said with a smirk. "Besides, I'm not so easily categorized."
"Well, just don't end up in Gryffindor. I might have to hex you."
He chuckled. "I'll keep that in mind."
The train whistled as it began to move, Hogwarts drawing closer with every mile. Cassian leaned back in his seat, watching the countryside blur past. The chessboard was set, and soon the p
ieces would begin to move.
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