The Great Hall had never looked more radiant.
Blue banners shimmered above the four long tables, the house color gleaming under the candlelit ceiling enchanted to mirror the twilight sky.
Laughter and chatter rose like a tide, but beneath it all was the faint hum of anticipation — the kind that comes when an entire school is waiting for judgment.
The House Cup.
Cassius sat at the Draconis table, as calm as the moonlight glancing off the silver goblets, totally uncaring about the proceedings since it really didnt matter, a prize for best participation at best, and he wasnt even qualified to participate.
Around him, his housemates, subordinates, and friends whispered and speculated in hushed excitement.
"Gryffindor's finished for sure,"
"Not with all the points Potter lost,"
"And Slytherin's been docked too — Snape looked furious earlier."
Across the hall, Harry and Ron sat uncomfortably.
The latter's earlier fame had soured; it was hard to maintain heroic glory when your reckless adventures had cost your house nearly a hundred points over the course of the year, with his defeating the dark lord again being the end result, on the slytherins werent hoping for as the dark lords return would bring their families back to greatness once more.
The doors at the far end of the hall opened, and conversation quieted as Dumbledore entered, his robes sweeping like a slow tide of twilight blue.
He moved to the podium.
"Another year," Dumbledore began, his voice carrying with gentle ease, "has come to its close. A year filled with… surprises, discoveries, and yes — certain acts of extraordinary courage."
A ripple of murmurs.
Cassius could almost taste the tension across the Gryffindor table.
"However," Dumbledore continued, "courage alone does not always carry the day. Responsibility, wisdom, and discipline — these too are virtues we value."
Cassius's gaze flicked briefly to his father at the head table.
Severus met his eyes, unreadable, though there was a faint glint there — the kind that only one with his blood could recognize.
"The final standings for the House Cup are as follows," Dumbledore said, lifting a golden scroll. "In fourth place, with two hundred and ninety-one points… Gryffindor."
A groan erupted from the red and gold table.
Ron's shoulders sank.
"In third place, with three hundred and five… Slytherin."
The green table's cheer faltered midway, collapsing into incredulous mutters.
Snape's expression tightened, but he said nothing.
His chance at a seven year streak was over and done with all thanks to Potter!
"In second, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and forty-two."
Cassius leaned back in his seat as Dumbledore's voice rose for the last line.
"And in first place, with three hundred and eighty-nine points — Ravenclaw!"
The hall erupted into thunderous applause.
Blue and bronze banners waving from the ceiling, shimmering like falling starlight.
The Ravenclaw table roared, students hugging each other, flinging bits of confetti that had appeared out of nowhere.
Cassius smiled faintly.
Not pride — satisfaction.
He had won the real prizes this year, and yet Ravenclaw got the consolation prize.
For the first time in over a decade, Ravenclaw had won the Cup.
Dumbledore clapped softly, his eyes wandering the hall, his expression both pleased and distracted.
Cassius noted the flicker of unease there — not about the points, but about something else.
Dumbledore wanted Harry to taste victory, to be praised universally as a hero and yet he fell before reaching the trials end, leaving the true victory to fall into the hands of another, were he to reward points to force the victory away to Harry, it could be done but, everyone knew the story spread by Ron had a thick scent of a lie, with the truth buried deep within.
In the end he had to relent, casting the thought aside.
Flitwick was beaming.
Everything seemed perfectly ordinary.
And yet —
"Did you hear?" a student whispered nearby. "Professor Thorne's dead."
The words slid into the hum of conversation like a knife into butter.
Cassius's attention sharpened instantly.
"What?" another student asked.
"Just now. I overheard Professor Sprout. They found him in the Forbidden Forest. Dead. They say it happened last week — they only just confirmed it was actually him."
Cassius's eyes narrowed.
So that's what happened.
He figured it was weird for a ministry Auror not to do anything once news of the dark lord arriving at Hogwarts.
Quirrell must have killed Thorne on his way into the castle.
The man had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and Voldemort never tolerated obstacles.
Cassius murmured under his breath, "A pity. He was competent as a professor."
The feast carried on — laughter, chatter, celebration — but Cassius drifted into thought.
Hogwarts had lost another professor, though few would mourn Thorne's name for long.
The war for the Sorcerer's Stone had left its stains, even if the world didn't yet see them.
~
Far beyond the hallowed halls of the school, the latest copy of the Daily prophet was coming hot off the presses.
With a headline shocking almost all in the wizarding community.
"MUGGLEBORNS SECURE TOP SPOTS!"
For those who bothered to delve deeper it was revealed by undercover sources that the 1st, 2nd and 3rd year students at Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry had seen the top thirty students all be muggleborns who were newly introduced to the magical world with no imersion to it prior to receiving their letters of admission.
Of course there was some admiration for non-muggleborns such as Cassius, Cho, and Daphne.
But they were already a special case belonging to house Draconis, for everyone else it was a big slap to the face.
Centuries old pureblood families whose scions and heirs couldnt even break into the top 30 students of their year, worse yet getting beat handedly by muggleborns... muggleborns!
Not even Half-bloods, but practically muggles themselves!
The first year of Hogwarts was over with now.
Cassius retired to his room early, not to pack, that was done already long ago thanks to the house-elves.
Instead he rested on his bed, simply thinking about all that needed to be done.
Just from the feeling alone, Voldemort was stronger than he should have been when attached to Quirrel, validating the belief Cassius had, had years ago when he found the untainted Diadem in Romania, Voldemort, or rather Tom Riddle in this life time did not intentionally create horcrux's.
His loss of a body as a result of the rebounded curse, and 'purification' by Euphemia Potter, split his soul creating a horcrux in harry, while his bodyless soul retreated into exile.
This meant that the journey required to dealing with the current evil was not going to be nearly as fraught with woe as it was origionally.
But also means there should be around 3 or 4 years before the dark lord returns, and by then the chance that Cassius could stand against him were high, by then his private army under the Arcanum, along with the students being trained up in hogwarts should allow hundreds if not over a thousand muggleborn wizard and witch soldiers graduating early to stand on the frontlines.