"Is there a possibility… that you don't actually have to be like a little bird?"
"As long as you act like a good person, you don't need wings," Cassandra snapped, her voice tight with irritation.
She especially emphasized the words "good person."
Blake wanting everything—wanting to keep Hermione and her—made her furious.
"Ah? You don't want me to be a little bird?" Blake teased lightly. "Alright, then I won't be a little bird, okay?"
"Then I'll be… an angel!"
"An angel?" Cassandra raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah! Let me see… according to legend, there was an angel… what's his name again? Didn't he have six wings? Or was it twelve?"
"You! You really want… ten… twelve?! AH!!! BLAKE! I'LL KILL YOU!" Cassandra roared, lunging at him in exasperation.
Meanwhile, in the Headmaster's office, Professor McGonagall had barely stepped through the door before she started questioning sharply.
"Albus, Blake skipped the entire first day of the new term! Tell me honestly, was he doing something for you?"
Dumbledore, caught mid-motion as he put a pile of cockroach clusters back into a box, cleared his throat.
"Oh… yes, yes. Indeed, he was doing something for me today."
McGonagall frowned deeply at Dumbledore's unusually bright face.
"So you had an underage wizard run errands for you all day?"
"Well… it's nothing dangerous, Minerva," Dumbledore insisted, his voice trembling slightly with excitement.
"It's a happy thing—a very great event for our entire family."
McGonagall stared, taken aback. In all her years, she had never seen Albus so openly emotional.
Not even when Voldemort was defeated had Dumbledore looked so flushed with joy.
"Ahem… forgive me. I'm simply too happy," Dumbledore said quickly, noticing her stare.
He truly couldn't help it. After years of guilt and grief over Ariana's death, now she was back.
Healthy, alive—and even Aberforth had forgiven him and returned home.
For Dumbledore, this was a reunion he'd only dreamed of, suddenly become real.
Part of him feared it might all vanish if he sneezed—yet even if it was a dream, it was the most beautiful one he'd ever had.
"What happened, Albus?" McGonagall asked gently, worry softening her tone.
"You're not yourself today."
"I can't tell you everything, Minerva," Dumbledore replied, his smile softening.
"But my sister—Ariana—you remember her. She's back."
"Back? You mean…" McGonagall trailed off, confused.
"She's alive, Minerva," Dumbledore said, eyes sparkling.
"She was never really dead."
McGonagall's lips parted in shock.
"Merlin… Albus, have you gone mad?"
"Wait, please," Dumbledore pleaded, raising a hand. "I'm not crazy. Ariana is truly alive, and Aberforth has moved back, too. He forgave me."
McGonagall studied his face closely. Despite his excitement, she saw no sign of madness.
"If what you're saying is true… this really is something worth celebrating," she admitted slowly.
"Thank you, Minerva," Dumbledore said, relief flooding his voice.
"This weekend, I'm planning a small party at my house in Godric's Hollow. Just close friends and family—I'd like to introduce Ariana to them."
McGonagall nodded. "Of course, I'll come."
She had seen Ariana's portrait at the Hog's Head before. Whether it truly was her, she'd know when she saw.
McGonagall turned to leave, but Dumbledore called her back.
"Wait, Minerva… about Blake," he began carefully.
"What about him?" she asked.
"From now on… if Blake skips class, don't worry. Just tell me. Don't punish him, don't deduct points."
McGonagall stared at him. "Albus! Are you spoiling him that much? You're telling me to let him skip class whenever he likes?"
"It's… not just spoiling," Dumbledore said, sighing.
"This child has a mission, Minerva. Some things must be done by him alone."
"A mission? You can't tell me what it is, can you?" McGonagall asked.
"I'm sorry… I can't," Dumbledore admitted.
"But remember—have you ever seen another student quite like him?"
McGonagall thought of Blake's brilliance—his strange spells, uncanny abilities—and finally nodded.
"All right, Albus. I won't question it further. I'll tell the other professors too."
She added dryly, "I'll say you're doting on him outrageously. That should be explanation enough."
Dumbledore managed a small smile. "Yes… say that if you must."
"And you don't want me to tell Blake?" McGonagall checked.
"No. If he comes to class, fine. If he doesn't… let it be," Dumbledore said softly.
"Just let nature take its course."
"Understood," McGonagall replied. "Though honestly, with his talent, missing class hardly matters."
After leaving the Headmaster's office, McGonagall headed straight to the staff room.
She paused outside, took a deep breath, then pushed the door open.
"It's outrageous!" she began, voice ringing.
"Albus is spoiling Blake terribly!"
Professor Flitwick blinked. "Minerva, what happened?"
"Today Blake skipped all his classes. When I asked Albus, he said from now on, if Blake misses school, we just tell him—no punishment, no point deductions!" she exclaimed.
"This… this is simply over-indulgence!"
In the Room of Requirement, Cassandra sat on a chair, breathless, her whole body limp.
Blake wiped his hands with a handkerchief, smiling down at her.
"Are you satisfied? Still want to fight me?"
Cassandra couldn't even muster a reply.
No one could last more than an hour against Blake's "powerful love horse killing chicken" technique.
Blake gently uncorked a small bottle of potion and helped her drink.
Half a minute later, color returned to Cassandra's face.
"You… you're so bad!" she whispered. "But… I like it…"
Blake chuckled. "What about my twelve-winged angel—"
Before he could finish, Cassandra clung to him like a snake.
"You still want to fight?" Blake asked warily.
"I don't care if you're a twenty-four-winged angel!" she retorted breathlessly.
"What you just did… can you do it again?"
Like Nagini, Cassandra had grown addicted to his magical massage.
Blake cupped her chin gently. "Not now. I have something else to do."
"What?" she asked, still panting.
"I need to catch someone. Actually, when I went to the kitchen earlier, I was looking for him."
"Oh?" Cassandra pushed her hair back, determination flashing in her eyes.
"I'll come too. I want to be part of your plans."
Blake smiled. "All right… tidy up first, then follow me."
Cassandra blushed, smoothing her rumpled robes.
She pulled out a small mirror and adjusted her hair and makeup.
Meanwhile, Blake activated his Eyes of Truth, scanning the castle.
A moment later, Cassandra spoke softly from behind, "Okay."
With magic's help, she'd freshened up quickly, no trace left of her earlier state.
"Then let's go." Blake opened a dimensional door.
Cassandra's eyes sparkled with excitement as she stepped through behind him.
Darkness surrounded them.
"Lumos," Blake murmured.
Light glowed at the tip of his wand, and he flicked it upward. The light bounced off the ceiling, illuminating their surroundings.
Cassandra blinked, eyes adjusting.
Only now did she realize: they were inside a narrow secret passage.
And in the center of the passage, trembling pitifully… was a hairless rat.
Back in the Headmaster's office, Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling.
So many years of regret, grief, and guilt… now softened by Ariana's return.
He knew Blake carried mysteries he couldn't explain to others.
But he trusted him.
Elsewhere, Peter Pettigrew's heart hammered in terror.
Cornered, exhausted, and powerless, he stared at the approaching figures.
One carried a wand that glowed softly, casting long shadows on the stone floor.
The rat's beady eyes met Blake's calm gaze.
Peter whimpered. Somehow, he knew running was useless.
Blake's voice broke the silence. "Finally found you, little mouse," he murmured.
Cassandra stepped closer, wand drawn, green eyes narrowed.
"Caught at last…" she whispered.
The secret passage fell silent except for the tiny, panicked squeaks of the trembling rat.
=============
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