When Dumbledore finally dismissed him, Cassius left the circular office without another word.
The torches along the staircase flickered as he passed, shadows rippling in a way that made them seem to bow in his wake.
The conversation still lingered in his mind — the old wizard's probing, the faint hum of the Elder Wand, and that single question that felt more dangerous than any spell.
What was within the founders vaults?
He shook his head as he reached the corridor leading toward the Draconis wing.
He knew the answer, of course — knew more than Dumbledore could possibly imagine.
But to reveal that truth now would be suicide.
The Headmaster would pry further, would draw his conclusions, and from there, the fragile balance Cassius had been building since his first day at Hogwarts would collapse.
The doors to the Draconis Common Room opened silently for him.
Inside, the space was bathed in warm candlelight and gentle laughter.
The silver-and-black banners overhead shimmered softly, reflecting the magical flames illuminating the chamber.
Near the grand hearth, Hermione and Cho were seated on one of the long couches, talking in hushed tones.
Their books and parchment were scattered across the table, but from the smiles on their faces, it was clear they'd long since abandoned any attempt at study, instead gossiping about each others holidays.
Cassius gave them a faint nod of acknowledgment as he entered.
"Everything alright?" Hermione asked, her tone careful but hopeful.
"Perfectly fine," Cassius replied with a thin smile. "Dumbledore just wanted a… chat."
Cho frowned, picking up on the deliberate vagueness. "About what?"
"Nothing important." He brushed the question away with a flick of his hand. "You two should get some rest. Tomorrow's going to feel like a long day with classes once again."
Hermione wanted to press further, but there was something in his voice that stopped her — a heaviness beneath the calm.
She exchanged a worried glance with Cho before sighing and nodding.
"Alright… just don't stay up too late, okay?"
"I'll keep that in mind," Cassius murmured.
He moved past them toward his private quarters.
The moment the door closed behind him, the warmth of the common room vanished, replaced by the cool stillness of his chambers.
He sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, fingers loosely interlaced.
And waited.
It didn't take long.
The temperature dipped further, and a faint, opalescent shimmer coalesced before him.
From the rippling air emerged the translucent form of Lady Draconis.
Her ethereal robes flowed like mist, her eyes bright with ancient intelligence.
"You seem restless, young heir," she said softly, her voice like a breeze through crystal.
Cassius's gaze lifted to meet hers.
"You could say that. I wanted to speak with you… about what I saw in the vaults."
"Ah." Her lips curved into a knowing smile. "And what did you see, I wonder?"
He leaned back slightly, eyes dark with memory.
"Power. Knowledge. Relics that shouldn't exist anymore — ones the world has forgotten. I saw enough to change everything."
Lady Draconis drifted closer, her form hovering inches above the ground.
"You speak as though it frightens you."
"It doesn't frighten me," Cassius said. "It tempts me. Which is far worse."
The ghost's smile widened faintly, approving.
"A wise observation. And what is it you wish to ask me, my heir?"
He hesitated, then looked up.
"Is it truly my right to claim those treasures? To use them? Or was there… a deeper reason for me being given access?"
Her expression softened, though her eyes never lost their sharpness.
"You speak of right and meaning as though they are the same thing. They are not."
Cassius frowned.
"Then what are they?"
"Right," she said, circling him like a pale comet, "is born of blood and will. You are my heir — by trial, by power, by choice. What lies in those vaults is yours as surely as the air you breathe. That is the law of inheritance."
"And meaning?"
"Meaning," she continued, her tone distant, "is what you give it. Those relics were forged in an age when magic was as common as rain, when artifacts you now call legendary were mere tools. The founders built, created, destroyed — not because they sought worship, but because they could. You, Cassius, stand at the threshold of that same world."
He considered her words in silence.
"So you're saying they're just… things."
She gave a slow nod.
"Objects. Instruments. Their purpose is not fixed until someone gives it form. A wand in one man's hand heals; in another's, it kills. The same will be true of you."
Cassius smirked faintly.
"Then I suppose I'll have to be careful how I use them."
"You will not be careful," Lady Draconis replied with a quiet laugh. "You will be bold. You must be. The age of subtlety has long passed. The world grows weaker by the year — its wizards more timid, its magic more diluted. You've seen this yourself, have you not?"
He had.
Even as a first-year, the difference between what was and what is was staggering.
Spells that once reshaped the world were now only names in dusty books, half-understood by professors who lacked the courage to wield them.
"I have," Cassius admitted. "It's pathetic."
"Then change it," she said simply. "That is your burden — and your birthright."
He met her gaze, a spark flickering in his eyes.
"You make it sound so easy."
"It will not be. But I did not choose you because you seek ease."
She drifted closer, her hand — or the ghostly image of one — brushing the air near his cheek.
"The world does not need another hero, Cassius. It needs a reformer. Someone unafraid to break what must be broken."
He let out a low laugh.
"Reformer… or conqueror?"
"Perhaps both," she said. "History will decide which name it prefers based upon if you suceed or not."
Silence stretched between them, filled only by the faint hum of the castle's ancient magic.
Finally, Cassius leaned back on his hands, staring at the ceiling.
Lady Draconis left him to his thoughts, and within moment he dove into the memories of just a few days past.
When the three founder vault doors had opened.
The contents were far grander than just simple mountains of gold and gems taller than himself.
There was a library's worth of tomes lost to history, Ravenclaws was setup almost like a laboratory where methodical research could be conducted without worry.
Griffindor's was like an armoury, suits of magical armour, swords capable as acting like a wand medium.
Even great methods of providing magical healing to allow the fight to continue even after one had fallen.
Then worst of all was the Draconis vault.
The vault itself bore more than a few different piles of ingredient items.
Fangs, Claws, Skins, meat, blood.
All from True dragons no doubt, while in another corner a small stack of eggs lay patiently awaiting the day when they could be matured hactching the true race of dragons back into the world once more.
Then lastly and probably most shockingly was a shimmering tree locked in a stasis spell.
The mere presence of this tree practically caused Cassius to spit up blood.
In all his time spend studying Magical history the tree he saw before him was only recorded a few times and even then it was accounted to be nothing more than a figment of a childrens story just like the tales of beatle the bard, and his three brothers.
If given a name the tree would be a sapling of Yggdrasil, the world tree.
Waiting for the day it would be claimed, the day it would be planted bringing a new world tree back to the surface of the earth.