the siphon | h. potter

~twenty two~

cassandra

The trek up to the castle took a painfully long time to complete. As she was walking, Cassandra remembered the first time she had seen Hogwarts. Assisted by her excitement and amazement, she was able to complete the journey fairly quickly. Those feelings did not aid her today.

In the doorway of the main entrance rested a familiar wizard. His long, white beard and tall figure looked just the same as a few months ago. Cassandra guessed a few months was only a second of time for a man who was over 150 years old.

The setting sun casted a warm orange light on the man as he stood to his feet. "Hello Cassandra," he grinned.

She only smiled in return. It was difficult being polite in her current emotional state.

Cassandra stood with Dumbledore under the large, dark shadow of the endless castle. Everything had changed since the first time she had stood with Dumbledore, defeated and afraid in the grim halls of Grimmauld place. Although she had experienced copious amounts of love, joy, and triumph over the past few months, now she was left with only sorrow and despair.

"You're probably wondering why I asked you here today."

"Yeah a bit."

Dumbledore began walking forward and away from the castle. It was weird seeing the grounds empty. During the school year there'd be students laying on the shore of the lake, sitting in the cool shade of a tree, flying around the quidditch pitch with a quaffle in hand, or just taking a peaceful walk across the grounds.

The sun was now almost completely hidden beneath the horizon. As she lifted her feet into a walk, she was guided only by the surviving rays of light reflecting off of the Black Lake.

"Cassandra before we leave you must understand something," Dumbledore began. His light blue robes dragged behind him as he stepped onto the long bridge leading from the castle. "Now that Voldemort has been exposed, it is only a matter of time before he starts leading full on attacks."

Cassandra drew a sharp breath. The impending war was one of many things she had spent her summer trying to forget. His words were slowly dragging her back to reality. A reality of murder and torture and fear.

Dumbledore watched Cassandra and continued only once she nodded her head, "The only way to stop this war is to kill Voldemort."

"Get me a one on one audience with him and I'll gladly do just that."

"It's not that simple, my child," Dumbledore sighed.

"I almost killed him in June, if Bellatrix didn't hex me when she did, Voldemort would be dead."

"Even if you would have siphoned all of the magic from Voldemort's body, he would not have died."

"What do you mean?"

"When Voldemort tried to kill Harry on that fateful night in Godric's Hollow, the curse rebounded and destroyed Voldemort's body, but not his soul... If you would have succeeded, I'm afraid it would have ended with the same result... Voldemort can not die like a normal wizard."

"But how is he..." Cassandra paused for a moment to find the words, "preserving his soul?"

"It's old magic, dark magic. He has found a way to store bits of his soul in objects, called Horcruxes. As long as these objects exist, Voldemort can not be killed."