The Son of the Dog Star

The bell rang with a clang that echoed off the dungeon walls, signaling the end of Defense Against the Dark Arts. Chairs scraped back in hurried clatter, students eager to escape the stifling room and its ever-watching pink predator.

Cassian slipped his wand into his sleeve and made for the door with Blaise close behind. Umbridge stood by the blackboard, simpering at a cluster of timid second-years still fumbling with their books.

Then the door creaked open again—Argus Filch shuffled in, eyes beady, clutching a crumpled scrap of parchment like it was a sacred scroll.

"Professor Umbridge," he rasped, "it's 'appened again. Someone's left dungbombs under the Charms corridor staircase. Burned a hole in the floor this time."

Umbridge's smile twitched. "Again? Oh, how tiresome. Do excuse me, children—some of us have real work to do."

She waddled after Filch, muttering sweet poison under her breath. The heavy classroom door clicked shut behind her.

Cassian paused at the threshold, glancing back.

Behind the teacher's desk, the side door to Umbridge's office stood slightly ajar. Most didn't know it even connected—her private quarters were through there, velvet-sick and sugar-sweet.

Blaise followed his gaze and gave a low hum. "Looks like Christmas came early."

Cassian's lips curled into a thin smile. "We've only got minutes. Think you can keep lookout?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

Cassian moved quickly, slipping behind the desk and toward the barely open door. The hinges gave a soft groan as he nudged it wider, revealing the edge of a grotesquely frilly rug and the corner of a gaudy armchair. A suffocating wave of rose perfume spilled out—thick and artificial.

He stepped inside.

Blaise, still by the door, leaned against the frame with practiced nonchalance, keeping one eye on the corridor.

The room was worse than Cassian remembered—lace doilies, china kitten plates, sickly pink everywhere. He crossed to a low shelf stacked with tied scrolls and porcelain cats, reaching for the nearest—

Snap.

A shimmer of golden light laced through the air like a struck harp string. It lasted only a second.

Cassian froze.

"Oh no," he muttered.

"What was that?" Blaise hissed, standing upright.

"A ward," Cassian said through clenched teeth. "There's a bloody alert ward—"

A high-pitched chime began ringing through the walls, eerie and unnatural, like enchanted bells struck underwater.

"Move!" Blaise barked.

Cassian didn't need telling twice. He bolted back through the side door, nearly colliding with Blaise as they sprinted into the corridor.

The hall beyond had already started to fill with students changing classes. Cassian ducked low, weaving between bodies, tugging his robe tighter around him.

"Left!" Blaise muttered, grabbing his sleeve and dragging him toward the Arithmancy corridor. "Blend in!"

They turned the corner just as a shrill, furious voice rang out behind them.

"WHO HAS BEEN IN MY OFFICE?!"

Cassian glanced back, breath hitching.

Umbridge was storming down the hall, her squat form surprisingly fast, flanked by a breathless Filch. Her face was a twisted mask of rage, frilly neckline flapping with every stomping step.

Cassian pulled up his hood.

"I think that's our cue to disappear," Blaise said smoothly, already adopting the lazy slouch of someone who'd just come from the library.

They melted into the flow of students, swallowed by the tide of chatter and shuffling feet, as Umbridge thundered back toward her desecrated sanctum.

---

They didn't stop moving until they reached the library, where Madam Pince's suspicious glare passed right over them as they ducked into a shadowy nook between Magical Theory and Cursed Artefacts. Only then did Cassian drop into a chair, dragging a hand through his hair.

"She warded it," he muttered, still breathless. "Her private quarters. What kind of paranoid lunatic puts an alert ward on her own office inside Hogwarts?"

Blaise arched a brow as he slid into the seat across from him. "The kind that bathes in kitten-scented tyranny and smiles while handing out lifelong bans."

Cassian scowled, leaning forward. "No professor's supposed to put that kind of warding in a student-accessible area. It's excessive. Illegal, maybe."

"She probably thinks it's charming. Like one of those Muggle lawn gnomes that explode when you get too close."

He rubbed his temples. "That's not a standard perimeter charm. It was tuned to presence—not intent. I didn't even touch anything, just stepped in…"

"Well, with how unpleasant she is, I'd be surprised if she didn't have enemies. She's not exactly winning hearts out there. I'd wager she sleeps with one eye open and her wand under the pillow."

Cassian grimaced. "We're going to need a new approach. That alert—it was precise. No alarms in the corridor, just her office. She knew the moment I crossed the threshold."

Blaise tilted his chair back slightly, hands behind his head. "So what now? Give up and let her have her grotesque lair untouched?"

Cassian didn't answer. He was already pulling books from the shelves: Advanced Magical Wards and Protections, The Art of Subtle Alarms, and A Practitioner's Guide to Defensive Enchantments.

"She's got to have tied it into something—maybe the castle wards, maybe a local sigil. If I can figure out the structure, I can get around it. Or at least… mute it."

Blaise watched him pile the books like a mad scholar mid-breakdown. "Ah, there he is. The Cassian I know and fear."

Cassian shot him a flat look. "You're not helping."

"I'm providing moral support," Blaise said cheerfully. "In silence. From a safe distance."

Cassian flipped open a book and began to scan, eyes narrowed in thought. "This isn't over. If she's willing to go that far to protect her pink palace, she's hiding something worth seeing."

He ran a finger down the index of The Art of Subtle Alarms and murmured, "And I want to know exactly what."

---

The days blurred together in a rhythm of classes, stifled laughter, and stolen hours in the library. Cassian had buried himself in research between lessons, his usual sharp sarcasm dulled by frustration. Books piled up around him like fortifications, and Blaise had long since taken to bringing snacks instead of insight.

It was on the third evening that Luna appeared beside him, as quietly as snowfall.

"You look like you're losing a duel with a bookshelf," she said dreamily, peering over the open text in his lap. "Or winning it very, very slowly."

Cassian didn't look up. "It's not the books. It's the bloody charm. I've combed through every type of perimeter ward I can find, and nothing matches the reaction we saw."

Luna hummed thoughtfully and sat beside him. "Maybe it's something older. Or something people don't use often, because it's loud. Not everyone likes loud spells. They scare the wrackspurts."

Cassian blinked, then suddenly flipped back a few pages in a thick, tattered volume. "Loud," he repeated, skimming quickly. His finger stopped midway down the page, and his eyes narrowed.

There it was.

"The Caterwauling Charm," he muttered. "Triggers a piercing scream if someone crosses the boundary without permission. Usually used on dark wizard hideouts or… paranoid Ministry officials."

Luna leaned in, reading the passage upside-down. "Says it reacts to presence, not aggression. Sounds like your sort of problem."

"No wonder she picked it. It's theatrical. Obnoxious. Perfect for her." Cassian leaned back with a small, satisfied sigh. "At least now I know what it is."

Luna smiled faintly. "So, will you try again?"

"Eventually. But not the same way. She's probably layered more spells on it by now." He tapped the page idly. "Which is why I've been working on detection charms, too. Advanced stuff—traces magical boundaries, reads residual enchantment energy. If she's added something new, I won't have to recognize it—I'll be able to tell what it does."

"That's very clever," Luna said, nudging his shoulder. "Though I suppose cleverness is a necessity when dealing with dangerous toads."

Cassian gave a dry snort. "She's not just paranoid. She's planning something. And I'm not letting her catch me off guard again."

Luna tilted her head. "Planning something? Like what?"

He glanced around, voice lowering. "I don't know yet. But people like her don't fortify unless they're hiding something."

She didn't respond, only watched him with those wide, unreadable eyes.

Cassian closed the book with a thud. "Next time," he said quietly, "we go in prepared."