Chapter 102: An Apple Far from the Tree (1)

Greg McMahon strolled across the Hogwarts grounds one late Saturday afternoon, making his way toward the Quidditch Pitch. The weather was warm and sunny, and he eagerly anticipated mounting his broom to embrace the gentle caress of the May breeze. As he contemplated taking a shortcut around the Greenhouses, he spotted a familiar figure ascending the hill, carrying something.

"Would you finally share some of these infamous baked goodies of yours with your big brother?" – he asked with a grin.

"Shout louder, they haven't heard you in the Borealis' castle!" – she retorted with a sour expression, balancing the huge tray laden with muffins.

"There's nobody around, don't get paranoid." – Greg smiled amicably – "Everybody's busy studying with the end-of-the-year exams just around the corner."

"Are the fourth-years having flying exams this year?" – Catherine inquired with a sarcastic smile, glancing at her brother's Cleansweep Six.

"Winning the Quidditch Cup is also important!" – the boy replied, adding – "Perhaps you'd like to join me and help me with the training? It's hard to do it alone when you're a Keeper!"

"As you said, there's a lot of revision to be done…" – the young witch attempted to find an excuse.

"Ah, yes, they say the cooking exams are the hardest during the third year at Hogwarts!" – Greg chuckled, winking at his sister – "Come on, Flame! You spend all your time with your friends. I don't ask for much, do I?"

"Fine! Don't look at me with these sad puppy eyes. They don't work on me." – she agreed with a sigh – "But I don't have a broom."

"You can use one of the school brooms." – suggested the wizard – "They're not the fastest, but they should be serviceable for trying to score a few goals."

"Trying?" – Catherine raised an eyebrow as they headed together towards the Quidditch Pitch – "If I'm doing this, I'm not just trying to score, I'll actually do it."

"I'm pretty good though." – the Gryffindor Keeper grinned, earning a scoff from his sister.

After fifteen minutes, the two teenagers were airborne, Catherine clutching the Quaffle and revelling in the sense of freedom. They practiced for a solid hour, and despite Greg's undeniable skills, he was caught off guard several times by his sister, who managed to score at least five goals.

"You're so reckless on that broom." – the wizard commented as they touched down on the fresh grass – "Have you been flying around with Black? You have similar styles."

"No. I try not to fly with the boys too often. After all, I supposedly never saw a broom before coming to school." – shrugged the girl.

"It bothers you, doesn't it? Lying to them about who you are?" – asked Greg, tossing the broom to the ground and taking a seat next to it, gazing up at the cloudless sky.

"Quite a lot recently." – admitted Catherine, settling beside her brother - "It's not even about the name or the title… it's more about the other thing."

Greg glanced at his sister, who was staring at the ground and threw his arm around her shoulders, planting a quick kiss on her currently very short black hair, styled in a pixie cut. He knew from past experience that the only way he could touch her without risking an injury was to do it when she felt vulnerable.

"I don't know what's gonna happen in the future, but I'm certain you can't get rid of those twerps you constantly hang out with. For my utter misfortune, no demon would be able to chase them away." – the wizard said with a slight smirk.

Catherine smiled appreciatively, leaning against her brother, soothed by the familiar scent of his magic. "I hope you're correct. Although, even if they won't be scared off by the demon, they might run away once they meet Mom."

"This is the real risk." – chuckled the boy.

"Can you believe she apparently sent three howlers to Dumbledore regarding the incident with my hair?" – the witch asked, a hint of amusement in her voice.

"I have no issues believing it whatsoever! She was absolutely enraged!" – laughed Greg, regretting that he couldn't tell Catherine that no matter how upset Louisa McMahon had been with Dumbledore, it didn't even come close to how furious she was at Marquess Carsilion Egbert. The latter made the ill-advised decision to visit for dinner during the Easter holidays. While Carsilion was certainly a remarkable duellist, he wasn't exactly prepared for the raw power of his best friend's wife, who appeared adamant to give him the same haircut as her daughter's. It took the house-elves hours to repair all the damage, and Edward, who had to intervene, was sent to sleep in another room for a week.

"Summer vacation will be a blast!" – scoffed Catherine sarcastically.

"There's a lot of events on the social calendar." – sighed Greg without much enthusiasm – "So, the house's going to be at your disposal. I hope you won't raid Dad's wine cellar, through?"

"If you're trying to ask what I needed the wine bottle for, that was a pretty lame attempt." – smirked the girl.

"Well, considering I was the one who got it for you, it's normal to be curious." – smiled the wizard.

"Would you tell me how you got it then?" – asked the young witch.

"Never mind." – the fourth-year said, pursing his full lips.

"Don't sulk!" – giggled Catherine, jumping to her feet and swiftly walking to the nearby stands where they had left their stuff – "Here, have a muffin!"

"Thanks!" – grinned Greg, catching the chocolate and maraschino delight and eating it in one bite.

"All those lessons on table etiquette for nothing." – commented the girl, a bit shocked by her brother's unusual lack of manners.

"You never offer me anything you bake, not even at home!" – retorted the boy with all the dignity he could muster with a full mouth.

"Hardly a reason to choke." – Catherine said, rolling her eyes.

"It was worth the risk!" – laughed her brother, licking his fingers clean.

"I do hope they won't serve muffins at those parties you're going to attend in the summer." – the witch shook her head.

"I doubt it. The food usually consists of some unpronounceable expensive dishes that just taste like confusion." – Greg replied, rising to his feet - "Carsilion's absolutely right: skip the food and go straight to the drinks! The time will pass more quickly. Too bad I'm not old enough."

"Carsilion Egbert? Dad's best friend?" – asked Catherine, intrigued. She had grown up with stories about the Marquess but had never even seen a picture of him. It was as if he were a constant, invisible presence in their home and the girl often felt angry at her parents for accepting this faceless man as part of their family while keeping her hidden. From her current position, however, Catherine actually felt sorry for her father, realising that she, too, was keeping a huge secret from her closest friends and was terrified of their reaction if they ever found out.

"Um, yes." – Greg nodded, mentally kicking himself for bringing up Carsilion in the conversation. It was dangerous territory, and he wanted to change the topic without raising suspicion.

"What's he like?" – the girl suddenly asked, catching her brother off guard.

"Oh, well, he's, you know… pretty standard guy, I mean, a bit stuck-up, sarcastic, arrogant, with everyone except Dad. He likes expensive, elegant things and flirts with everything that moves. There are plenty of people like him at those parties."

"Hah, sounds like Carter Thorne would fit perfectly there then, if he ever gets the chance to make an impression on Borealis." – Catherine scoffed – "Have you talked with Dad about what I told you?"

"Yes, I did." – Greg answered quickly, hiding his hands in his pockets, hoping the young witch wouldn't notice them shaking – "Dad checked him thoroughly, and there is no indication of any existing connection with aristocrats. That doesn't mean he wouldn't try to catch their attention, like many others. Therefore, you should be careful around him, but there's no reason to freak out."

"You say that, but he's been awfully interested in me since my first day at Hogwarts." – the girl responded with a scowl – "Plus, he's an Air Mage. I can't understand his behaviour one bit. You should have heard how he spoke about Borealis, like he was the most amazing person who had ever walked this Earth!"

"I understand your worries, sis, but think that if he knew or suspected who you were, he would have run to Adrian that very moment, and I assure you that for this, he would have listened! Things would have escalated in the matter of hours!" – Greg attempted to reassure his sister, cursing their terrible luck. Obviously, they knew House Borealis' family home was not very far from Hogsmeade, but the possibility of any of them encountering Hogwarts' students or Catherine in particular was extremely low. Carsilion had acted upon instinct, and considering the little time he had to react, he did his best. Unfortunately, now he was back to being on the top of Catherine's enemies list, and that appeared to bother the teacher who was very unhappy while explaining to Greg and Edward what had happened in the village. What they all agreed on, however, was that whenever the girl was at Hogsmeade, she needed to be under supervision. Professor Carter Thorne needed to keep her on high-alert to avoid any unintentional slip-ups, and if they were ever to encounter another aristocrat, Greg should make sure to steal all the attention.

The young witch nodded and stared at the ground. Greg, realising how stressful this situation was for his sister, felt guilty he couldn't alleviate some of her worries, especially those connected to Carter Thorne. Utterly helpless, he just patted the girl on the back and smiled encouragingly.

"Relax a bit, Flame! You're not alone in this! We're here for you and you're protected more than you know."

"What's that supposed to mean?" – asked Catherine, her green eyes piercing her brother who swallowed hard.

"I mean that Dad and Dumbledore took a lot of precautions to keep you safe and hidden at Hogwarts, and I'm here too if you need me. Plus, the castle itself is protecting us." – he said cheerfully – "Oh, by the way, remember the weird thing with the portraits? I think I found out what it was."

"Really?" – the third-year exclaimed surprised.

"Yup!" – answered the boy confidently – "It turned out that when our ancestors were building the castle, Helga Hufflepuff oversaw all the decoration, furnishing, and, in general, the transformation of Hogwarts into a home. You probably know she was the one who brought all the house-elves into the Kitchens. Our house-elves at home are direct descendants of those. Anyway, apparently, she also enchanted the portraits, and they recognise her as the landlady of the castle. That's why we, as her direct descendants, can order them, and they can't disobey us. It's similar to the power the Headmaster has over them, but in that case, he uses it based on the position he occupies; we have it because of our blood."

"Fascinating!" – gasped Catherine wide-eyed – "Are you sure about this?"

"Yeah, I asked Dad, and he also showed me some texts on that." – nodded Greg – "Mystery solved!"

"Indeed." – agreed the girl, gathered her tray of muffins, already contemplating how she could best utilise her unexpected ability stemming from her relation to Hufflepuff – "Anyway, I need to go. See you around, big brother."

Greg watched as his sister swiftly strode toward the castle. He sighed, contemplating how different everything could have been if they didn't need to conceal their relationship or her true name. Exhausted by the weight of the numerous secrets he needed to balance, he reached down and plucked a stem of Bluebells growing at the entrance of the Quidditch Pitch. The flower briefly glowed before fading away. Enjoying the sea breeze and salty scent that brought him calm and tranquillity, Greg reflected on the challenges of using Flower Magic without proper education on the matter. He kept this ability to himself, seeing no value in sharing it. His grandfather, upon discovering Greg was inclined to water, dismissed him, unable to fathom that he could have inherited his rare gift.

Recognising his limited grasp of the magic, the young wizard was aware that he could achieve little by mere guesswork. Through trial and error, he had discovered a few tricks, such as creating a calming effect using Bluebells to evoke pleasant memories. However, these simple achievements paled in comparison to the intricate mastery displayed by Florian Plantier, who could seamlessly blend different plant combinations to craft elaborate illusions. Greg recalled how his grandfather used at least twenty different flowers to disguise Catherine's presence while they traversed the streets of London. Consequently, to anyone but their family, she appeared as a young blond boy.

'It's still an illusion at the end of the day.' – thought the heir of the McMahon family, stepping out of the brief moment of relaxation and opening the heavy oak doors of Hogwarts.