The unknown daughter

Chapter 7: First meeting

The entire School had heard of the adventure's of Harry Potter and how he risked his life to retrieve the Philosopher's stone by the time April has passed. Said boy is currently laying in the Hospital wing, still healing from all his injuries, even though he is awake. 

Cassiopeia and Corvus walk past two third's of the Golden Trio, who are talking about the youngest Potter boy. An arm lands on Cassiopeia's shoulder, her brother looking way too satisfied: "You think the old coot will ever find out that he has the fake?" A shrug: "Doubt it. He's not the brightest candle on the cake, you know that. He would never think anyone would dare go against him. THE Albus Dumbledore. It would be a wonder, if he found out." 

Eyebrows raise. Some steal glances at the Headmaster. Seeing him smile, like he always does, everyone turns back around uninterested. Only a select few notice the clench of his jaw, the twitch of his left eye and the fisted hands. Moody writes something in his notebook, keeping a suspicious eye on the Headmaster of Hogwarts.

Regulus and Orion exchange a quick glance. The older of the two knowing his son had seen what he had seen as well. Regulus came after his father after all. Euphemia catches Orion's eyes, a silent nod given to each other. They were on the same side now. 

The two teens stop infront of the library. Corvus leans down and softly presses a kiss against her temple: "I will see you later, little sister." "See you later, big brother." Then they part ways, one stepping into the library, the other going back to the Slytherin common room.

A sigh escapes the red-head's lips, as she falls onto her bed: "This takes too long. I just want it all over with." "Now this is interesting." Her head snaps up at the unexpected voice in her private space. 

A tall male with brown hair is standing in the middle of her chambers. His brown eyes curiously look around the room, before settling on the small witch: "Who may you be?" An unimpressed eyebrow raises: "I think I should be the one asking you that question, seeing as you are the one currently in my room. Who are you and how did you get here?!" 

A sudden stop in his movement, then he's right in front of her.

Regulus eyes widen, recognizing the man on the screen from one of the books in the library and pictures from history. Kol Mikaelson, the wildest and most unpredictable of the Originals. The first vampires to walk the earth. If he remembers correctly, he was over 1000 years old. Fear for his niece thrums through him. She was in a lot of danger. Kol was known to be merciless and even unhinged. He didn't care for human life and caused chaos wherever he went. But he was also known to run with witches, maybe that would save his niece. He sure hoped so. 

"You didn't summon me then, I take it?" Slowly Cassiopeia reaches for her wand, ready to defend herself against the man, she remembers from books and pictures. But he is far faster than her, because the second she moves to grab her wand, his hand has a hold of her wrist: "We're just having a calm conversation, no need to defend yourself with a...stick? What would a stick do?" Distracted, he doesn't even think about the fact he can touch her or the electricity running through them both, from where they connect.

She doesn't even try to escape his tight grip, knowing better than to fight and risk his anger: "It isn't a stick. It's a wand." His eyes travel over her form, curiosity shining bright in them: "A wand?" "Yes, a wand. Witches use them." His grip transfers her right hand, so that he can hold onto both of them with one of his. Then his hand reaches out and pulls the wand out of her hair. 

Red locks fall on her back and frame her face, while he looks over the item in his hands: "I've never seen of a witch who uses a wand before..." "No one is supposed to know of us. Now could you give me my wand back? And let go of me while you're at it." Intense eyes focus back on her.

Intense eyes full of knowledge, but still hungry for more. Cassiopeia is careful with her words and her actions. Years of living in the woods, with only wild animals for company, have taught her how to behave when infront of a predator. And she wasn't just infront of any predator, no, this was an apex predator. The top of the food chain. She knew to be careful.

"It seems that you know what I am, yet I've never heard of your kind before. I'm curious." Panic fills her at this. She couldn't tell him, the stature of secrecy forbid it, but what would he do if she refuses? "It's a long story..." Her eyes travel over the room, searching for an escape. Strong hands tug her down on the couch, right beside him. Cold breathe fans against her neck: "I suppose it's good that I have all the time in the world then. Start talking." 

So she does, albeit reluctantly and with as little information as she dares. Whiskey-colored eyes stay on her the whole time, dangerous curiosity in them. 

Once she's finished, silence covers them. It take every ounce of self-control to not squirm in place, while he processes what she just told him. After a few minutes, she dares to ask a question of her own: "How did you get here? No muggle, or non-wizard can enter." 

He leans back in his seat, his intense eyes still on her: "Well, darling. That would be because I'm not actually here. What you are seeing is a projection of my soul. My real body is back in that blasted coffin." 

Another moment of silence, of course Cassiopeia knows what he's talking about. The coffin the original Hybrid puts his sibling in every once in a while. The daggers in their hearts not killing them, but putting them to sleep for as long as they are there. 

"The question is, why has my soul decided to appear here and with you of all places, when normally I am stuck in blackness." His thumb draws circles on her wrist, but suddenly stop.

She ignores the urge to fight back, as he draws her even closer to him. Legs touching, his grip on her wrists still tight. Then he leans forward, crowding into her personal space, until his nose is against her jugular. A shudder travels through her. His nose is against her skin, breathe fanning over her, but she knows better than to back off. 

James Potter jumps up from his seat: "What is he doing?!"  He isn't the only one that's shocked. Flabbergasted expressions cover the Great Hall, even some of the Professors and Aurors look shocked. 

Remus is the one to answer his best mate: "He's scenting her." "Can't he do that without getting so close to her?!" Is James' immediate retort. He doesn't like that that man is so close to his daughter. The thought that he wouldn't be able to stop this, even if he was there only makes him angrier. 

A second later he leans back again, the biggest smirk yet on his face: "It seems like you will be stuck with me for quite a while, darling." Brown and blue eye widen in fear: "What do you mean?" His face leans towards her, nose softly caressing hers, a possessive gleam in his eyes: "You're my soulmate, little witch." 

And the breathe is knocked from her lungs, color drenched from her face, as his words register: "No." His face draws back, amusement lining his face: "Yes." And his smirk is the last thing she sees, before she blacks out. The news too much to handle for a fourteen years old. 

(Don't worry, there won't be any pedophilia)

Shocked and horrified gasp. Lilly sways in her seat: "My daughter is the soulmate of an Original." Sirius is not much better, slowly turning in his seat, to catch the red-heads eyes: "Not any Original, love. She's the soulmate of the wildest, most unpredictable, most feared Original. He's right up there with his brother Niklaus. Some say, he's even worse." And she faints, eyes rolling back into her head, much like her daughter on the screen. Sirius lays down, feet on James lap, head on Remus's. 

James, meanwhile, is staring at his unconscious daughter, face white as a sheet. Mouth agape, eyes empty. No one can blame him. His daughter is the soulmate of the most dangerous being on earth and there's nothing he could do. Even if he was still there, Kol would kill him if he tried to stand in between him and his soulmate. 

Euphemia is leaning against Fleamont, both have blank expressions on their faces, but they are panicking on the inside. This was bad, very very bad.