Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Prologue - Whispers of the Dark

0

Fright Village, London

Ages 11

Catra D’riluth stood at the corner of the busy business district in Fright Village with her hands at her hips. She wore a flimsy tank top with “IT’S SLYTHERIN OR NOTHING" printed in bold, green letters across her chest with shorts cut off midthigh. There was a sea of people rippling by, going through the motions of life, as she anchored herself to the free patch of concrete by holding onto the beam supporting the awning atop an antique store.

The heat was smoldering. It made her baby hairs stick to her sweat glistened neck. The ponytail she wore wasn’t doing much, though it did allow her shoulders to selfishly embrace any passing breeze. But she’d rather bake in the heat than be stuck in the house all day at Weaver’s orphanage.

Three more months until Hogwarts. Three more months until she’d have to deal with Weaver’s bullshit.

I can’t wait until I learn some real magic, she thought, if I knew other spells then I could summon vanilla ice cream with cherries—just with the flick of a hand. She added mint chocolate chips to her list with a shudder. Catra couldn’t stand the stuff, but Adora loved it.

“Catra!”

Catra craned her neck, lifted up on the tips of her toes, and grinned. Somewhere in the crowd, she spotted the familiar hair poof. Catra cupped a hand over her mouth. “Hey idiot, I’m over here!”

A young blonde girl, about the same age as Catra, parted through the sea of disgruntled adults. She stopped in front of Catra hunched over and flushed, with her hands on her knees. “You were...going too...fast.”

“You’re just too slow.” Catra poked Adora’s forehead with the tip of her clawed finger.

Adora slapped the finger away with a grin. Once her breathing was under control she straightened up to cross her arms above her head. Catra jutted out her bottom lip as she craned her neck to meet Adora’s eyes. It wasn’t fair. Catra was the shortest at the orphanage—her and Lonnie tied for last—even Kyle was gaining some ground.

Adora’s face twisted into a frown. She brushed the tips of her fingers along Catra’s sweat slicked arm—the fur there was pressed flat like a pancake. “What’s wrong?”

Catra batted the fingers away. Her teeth, sharper than most, glinted in the light as she bared them. “Nothing.”

Adora’s hand dropped at a sluggish pace but her face was twisted once more as if she’d been slapped. Way to go arsehole, Catra thought with her ears flattened back on her head.

All you do is hurt people, a voice layered with multiple others echoed in her mind. Another reason for her to learn more spells—to keep the voices away. Weaver gave her a book—one on dark magic—to prepare her for Hogwarts, to make her strong, but it felt like the harder she tried, the worse things got. It was telling in the way she lashed out over the simplest things, in the bags under her eyes during sleepless nights, and worst of all, in the way Adora was looking at her now—like a slowly sinking ship, too far away to save.

Adora’s been watching from the shore for a while now. Whenever she tried to get her feet wet to offer Catra a life jacket, the ocean turned rampant. Catra chewed the inside of her cheek until she tasted iron. She was all alone on this sinking ship.

“Is this the place?” Adora asked.

Catra’s ear flicked. Adora was deflecting, and Catra was willing to take an ‘out’ when she had one. She cleared her throat, and jerked her thumb at the stain-glass door behind her. “Yep, this is it. Where’s Lonnie and the others?”

“I think we lost them by the river.”

“Ametruers.” Catra scoffed.

Adora bumped shoulders with her, grinning. “It’s fine. We make a great team.”

“You’re too close.” Catra placed her hand flat on Adora’s stomach and shoved her out of her space. Catra felt her face flush up. The heat must be getting to her. “And it sucks for them. But we’re still doing this. C’mon.”

The overhead bell rang as Catra guided Adora inside the store. A pleasant draft from the AC chilled the heat from Catra’s neck. There was an older man at the front register dealing with a woman looking to buy a doll whose eyes followed Catra over the woman’s shoulder. Catra shuddered. She hated coming to this place. The Shack was a well known store in their area. Filled with rare antique items with spells woven into them. On the shelf to her left, Catra spotted a pocket watch with the lid popped open. The hand for the clock wasn’t moving but she could still hear it ticking. ‘FOR THOSE WHO NEED MORE TIME’ the labeled sticker beneath it said. Only for two silver pieces.

“Don’t touch it.” Catra slapped Adora’s hand away. “You might get caught in a time loop.”

“Nu-uh.” Adora said. “Time Turner’s are banned. No way they’d risk it.”

“You still wanna risk getting your prints on that thing? What if it is contraband? I doubt Weaver’s gonna like having a swarm of Auror’s at her stoop.”

Adora took a notable step away from the sketchy pocket watch. They kept looking for something within their price range that wouldn’t land them in Azkaban. The Shack was sketchy for sure, but it was right in their price range. She and Adora spent all winter saving up the pocket change Weaver called allowance , all so they could buy something meaningful that would connect them forever before they attended Hogwarts. It had been Adora’s idea.

“It’ll be a token of our friendship.” Adora had said.

Hmm, Catra thought as she scanned the store, what screams friendship? Catra picked up a black leathered book from the bookshelf. The pages were all blank. Just as she started to close it, black ink slowly spread across the pages. The book started writing itself. Catra laughed, in awed. Her interest faded quick enough. The book had a propensity for some cheesy romance story that Catra didn’t care for.

Adora gasped behind her. “Catra, look at this!”

Catra abandoned the book and walked across the room to meet Adora. “A mirror ? Lame, Grayskull. We’ve only got a couple of silver pieces, we can’t just—”

“But it’s not just a mirror!” Adora’s face was spotted with red in the cheeks. Catra almost expected her to stomp her foot like she used to when she didn’t get what she wanted. “Look. You’re supposed to use it to talk to someone who's far away.”

Catra crossed her arms and leaned in close to inspect it. It wasn’t anything special. Just two rectangular mirrors that fit snug in the palm of Adora’s hand. There were jagged edges carved along one edge of each piece, as if a bolt of lightning had split the pair in twain. But time had made the edges dull, removing any threat of pricks to their skin.

Catra looked up at Adora. “Lame.”

“It’s not, it’s…” Adora puffed out her cheeks. The air slipped out from her lips, making her bangs flutter up then fall back down into a tangled mess on her forehead. “It’s cool.”

“ How ?”

“Because…it won’t matter how far we are from each other, we’ll always be connected.”

Catra felt her face heat up again. The damn AC must be malfunctioning. Stupid, sketchy store. Catra straightened up, leaning away from Adora. “Still sounds lame.”

“Think of it like we’re spies then.”

“Spies?” Catra’s ear twitched. She liked spies.

Adora nodded with a gap-toothed grin. “Yeah! Instead of using our magic we can use these. This way, no one can track us.”

Now that sounded cool. Catra uncrossed her arms and reached out for the other half of the mirror.

“Don’t touch that if you don’t intend on buying it.” A shadow loomed over them. Catra took a staggering step back. The old man from behind the register stood over them with a scowl.

Catra scowled right back up at him. “We’ve got money.”

“Lemme see it then.” He held out his hand.

They each handed him the pieces of silver they had stashed in their pockets. He cupped the coins in his hand and justled them around. “It ain’t enough.”

“Yes it is.” Catra growled. He hadn’t even counted it. If he had, he would’ve known that it was exactly the right amount.

“Not anymore. The price went up for your mutt's entrance fee.” He turned his nose up at Catra. “You’re lucky I even let this hybrid in my store for as long as I did with her touching everything with her filthy hands.”

Catra balled her fists up at her side. Something hot rushed through her blood, setting her on fire from the inside. The feeling of fire seeped out from her skin and hissed at the air. You’re gonna let him talk to you like that? A voice whispered in her ear. He’s no better than you. Teach him a lesson. You know a spell that will make him throw up his intestines. I know you remember how it goes.

She did. Catra vividly recalled the ghastly spell she had read in the book Weaver had given her. Catra hasn’t practiced it, but she’s sure she could—

“Let’s go, Catra.” Adora said.

The voices were washed away like words written in the sand when the tides came in. Adora grabbed Catra’s elbow and the fire died in her chest. Catra hung her head as Adora led her out of the shop. She didn’t look up until the noise of the business district became a gentle roar.

They ended up on the bridge overlooking the lake across the highway. Catra perched herself atop the brick wall and swung her feet over the ledge. Adora settled for leaning against the wall instead of risking the fall.

“That guy was a dick.” Adora said.

“I’m used to it.”

“You shouldn’t be.” Adora frowned. “People like him are scum . You’re the best person I know. And you’ll be the best witch too. And when you graduate from Howarts—when we’ve mastered all the spells we can think of—we’ll come back and make him spit up something gross. Like frogs .”

Catra’s shoulder trembled as she laughed. “ Eww. ”

Adora grinned. “I know, right?”

Silence.

“Catra?”

“Hmm?”

Adora wrung her fingers together. “Back at the store…after he said that stuff about you, you got all quiet and then I felt…this weird…I don’t even know how to explain it. But it felt like I was in the water—like a wave had hit me and pulled me under…I couldn’t breathe, not until I grabbed your arm.” Adora turned her head to her. “What was that?”

“I don’t know.” Catra lied.

Adora frowned.

Catra smiled. She hoped it didn’t look as fake as she felt. “There was all sorts of weird shit in that store. Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.”

Adora nudged her shoulder into Catra’s hip, smiling. “I’m not.”

“Aren’t you a little worried? Not about me, about Hogwarts.”

“It’s gonna be awesome. Why, you nervous?” Adora teased.

“Shut up. Of course I’m excited for Hogwarts but,” Catra drew her legs up into her chest, “I’m also kinda freaking out. How can you be so calm about it?”

“Because, we’ve got each other. Nothing can stop us. We’ll always be together. I promise .”

Catra blushed. She ducked her head and whispered, “I hope you’re right.” Catra dropped her chin atop her knees and groaned. “I just wish we could’ve gotten those mirrors. And we lost all that money we saved,” she huffed.

That guy deserved way more than a mouth full of frogs.

“Oh what, you mean these mirrors?” Adora held out the identical two-way mirror pieces.

Catra gasped, “You got it! How?”

Adora nudged her hip and answered with a grin, “I took it when that arse was yelling at you.” Adora’s face scrunched up, “I mean it. He shouldn’t talk to you like that—no one should. And it’s not like I stole it; he owed it to us.”

Catra took her piece while Adora held on to hers. “Lonnie is gonna be sooo jealous,” Catra cackled. “C’mon, let’s hurry back so we can rub it in her face.”

Adora jogged up beside her. “Ooo, wait! Let’s use it to prank Kyle first.”

They walked home together with their mirrors clasped tight in their hands—a new symbol of their bond—as they eagerly awaited the future.

Chapter Text

1

Hogwarts, Entrance Hall

Ages 16

Frosta Nightglass wasn’t particularly enthused when her mother dragged her through the halls of Hogwarts for a meeting with the headmistress—even less so when she left her alone with Glimmer Moon, of all people, to babysit her. Frosta crossed her arms and thought, I can take care of myself. I’m almost eleven!

“And this is the Great Hall.” Glimmer said with a smile so wide it looked painful. “This is where we eat dinner—”

“Fascinating.” Frosta said sarcastically.

Glimmer’s smile fell. She put her hands on her hips and walked up to Frosta, toe-to-toe, and glowered down at her. “Don’t belittle my school like that, you little brat. Do you know how many people would kill for a chance to get a personal tour? They have to wait months to get off our waiting list, they can’t all have mummy pulling the strings.”

“That’s rich coming from you. Your bloody mum is the headmistress.”

Glimmer’s face turned red. “You little—”

BOOM!

The ground beneath them trembled as a loud explosion sounded from the hallway. Glimmer brushed Frosta’s arms off her—she hadn’t even noticed she’d reached for Glimmer in all the commotion. There was a blush spreading its way across her face, but she had no time to dwell on her embarrassment as she ran after Glimmer into the hallway.

The hallway was full of chaos. Students were running for the stairs and ducking into open classrooms. Frosta stayed on Glimmer’s heels, narrowly avoiding a student who took cover into a nearby locker. She nearly collided with Glimmer’s back when she came to a stop in the middle of a fork in the hallway.

“Expelliarmus!”

“Protego!”

Frosta looked past Glimmer’s shoulder, her eyes went wide when she saw a spell barrelling towards them. It looked like a ball of light or something rushing towards them in the air. Frosta clutched on to Glimmer’s leg and closed her eyes bracing for the impact of the spell.

“Protego!” Glimmer shouted.

Frosta opened her eyes and gasped. There was a pink barrier surrounding them, likely coming from Glimmer’s wand. Glimmer had her wand outstretched. Another spell struck the air but it bounced off Glimmer’s shield and collided into one of the lockers.

Glimmer took Frosta’s hand. “Stay close to me.”

Frosta bit back her argument and took a step forward with Glimmer and marveled at how the dome-shaped shield went with them, blocking several more stray spells. They stopped once they reached a clearing in the hallway near the winding staircase that seemed to have no end. The sound of the spell casting grew louder, and they had finally found the source of the chaos.

“Is that seriously all you’ve got, Princess?”

When the smoke settled Frosta saw a magicat-hybrid girl standing at the foot of the stairs. Her eyes stood out to Frosta the most; they were two different colors with slit-shaped pupils. She’s in Slytherin. Frosta examined the green robe adjourning the girl and how it billowed at her thigh.

“Catra cut it out,” a girl wearing Gryffindor robes said. “I don’t wanna fight you—just apologize to Shell.”

“Apologize?” Catra laughed so hard her head flew back. “Are you mental? You’re over here defending him and you don’t even know what he did. Classic Adora—always playing hero and butting in where you don’t belong.”

Adora frowned. “Catra—”

“No. I’m done talking.” Catra swirled her wand between her fingers then aimed it at Adora in a swift motion. “Stupefy!”

Adora blocked the spell with the flick of her wand. Catra’s face darkened, she lifted her wand again—a bright light radiated from the tip—but before she could release the spell Angela appeared in a puff of smoke. Adora slapped her arms at her side while Catra cursed under her breath.

Angela glared at Adora and Catra. “Wands down. Now.”

Adora lowered her wand first, then Catra.

Angela pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers. “Of all days for the two of you to get into one of your lovers spats—”

“What?” Adora and Catra asked simultaneously, outraged.

“I don’t even have time to scold you right now.” Angela’s shoulders fell. “All of the most well renowned wizards and witches have their eyes on Hogwarts right now. The Triwizard Tournament was a disaster last year—the tribute for Hogwarts didn’t even make it past the first round—this time we have the home field advantage. But even so, we must be nothing short of perfection. So the two of you—” Angela grabbed them each by the ear and said, “Give me a break for one moment!”

Catra hissed at Angela and swatted at her with her claws. “Let go, let go, let go!”

“Mom—I mean, Headmistress Moon, I think they’re about to start.”

Angela looked up at the ceiling and sighed in exhaustion. “Lovely. I’ll leave the two of you with a warning, this time, but if I catch you causing any more ruckus I’ll give you enough detention for a lifetime.”

Adora ducked her head. “S-Sorry Angela—I mean, Headmistress.”

Catra didn’t offer an apology, only the cross of her arms and a heated scowl, but it looked like Angela wasn’t expecting much from her. Even so, Angela gave them one more harsh look before she ordered them to go to the Great Hall for the commencement ceremony. Glimmer didn’t lower the shield around them until she saw Adora and Catra turn the corner.

“Frosta, my sincerest apologies.” Angela looked down at Frosta with an embarrassed blush stretching across her nose. “You’re a guest here—many even a prospective student—and your first look at Hogwarts was ruined by—”

“Ruined?” Frosta asked, baffled.

“I can assure you, the students are often much more well behaved. Adora and Catra are…an exception. This rivalry often ropes others in.” Angela turned to Glimmer. “Please escort Frosta back to Lady Snow and give her my deepest apologies for leaving her on such short notice. We can continue the tour when things are less hectic.”

Glimmer nodded her head in three abrupt motions. “Got it, mo—Headmistress.”

Angela disappeared in another flash of smoke.

Glimmer cleared her throat awkwardly. “Sorry again for all of…that. Adora is the best, but Catra is always stirring up trouble.” Glimmer’s face darkened at the mere mention of Catra.

“W-Wait!” Frosta said. “Can I go to the Great Hall too?”

Glimmer pulled Frosta away by the collar of her shirt. “Oh, now you’re interested in seeing the Great Hall…”

Frosta fought against Glimmer but her grip was too strong. Several students looked over at them, startled at the view of Glimmer dragging Frosta down the hallway while she kicked and screamed.

At first glance, Frosta didn’t think much of Hogwarts. It was a pompous school full of boring students who lived mundane lives. She had never been more wrong in her life. Frosta thought back to the wonderful display of magic and craftiness Catra and Adora had displayed.

Frosta squealed. They were so cool!

2

“Catra wait.”

She slapped Adora’s arm from her shoulder and faced her, scowling. “Don’t touch me.”

“Okay. I won’t.” Adora held her hands up as proof then dropped them at her side. They were standing a few feet away from the closed double doors outside the Great Hall. Loud chattering could be heard from behind the door, it was muffled. “I get that you want to protect your friend—I do too—but I believe Shell.”

Catra frowned. “What did he even tell you?”

“That he was in the herbology lab working on a potion when Scorpia attacked him for no reason with a stinging hex.”

Catra barked out a mirthless laugh. “Have you met Scorpia? Oh how fucking rich. That’s such bull, Shell’s the one who attacked Scorpia and gave her antlers for ears.”

Adora frowned. “Shell wouldn’t do that.”

“What does it matter?” Catra snapped over her shoulder as she made her way into the Great Hall. “It’s not like you’ll believe me anyway. You never do.”

“Catra. Catra!” Adora’s voice grew muffled as the door closed in front of her.

She ducked Adora’s advances by slipping through the crowd of students gathered in the hall. Double Trouble (DT for short), Scorpia and Entrapata were all sitting at the usual table when she arrived. DT raised an eyebrow when Catra dropped down beside them with a loud sigh.

“Trouble in paradise?” DT taunted.

Catra gave them the middle finger.

“I hope I didn’t get you into any trouble, Wild Cat.”

Catra sat up. “Scorp, stop it. Shell is the one who needs to watch his back.”

“It’s hard to get revenge when we have that golden retriever on guard duty.”

“We’ll distract her somehow,” Catra said. “And when the time is right, we’ll strike. I mean it. No one gets away with bullying you, Scorp. Hybrids have to stick together, right?”

“I’m a muggleborn,” Entrapta said.

Catra winched. “Shit…then, uhh—us misfits have to stick together.”

Entrapta hummed. “Agreed.”

Their group was avoided like a plague at Hogwarts, not because they were made up of hybrids, but because people seemed to assume that trouble followed them wherever they went. But Catra thought it was all rubbish, the golden idiots were the ones who jumped headfirst into danger willingly. Catra could do without their antics and despite all the odds set against her, she found her own family right here. She and DT became friends pretty quick when they met during first year in potions class; someone was teasing DT and Catra was in a playful mood so she hexed the bully so hard he started coughing up slugs. After that, their friendship bloomed.

Entrapta was a muggleborn, classically known as the ‘know it all’ of Slytherin. With that title, she already had a bullseye on her back. Catra decided to let her sit at their table when Entrapta baked them a dozen mini cupcakes; they were charmed, so just a single one could fill you up for hours.

Then there was Scorpia. She was a Hufflepuff, but they adopted her into Slytherin. Scorpia was apparently a huge fan of Catra’s and thought she was the best quidditch player on Slytherin’s team. So of course, Catra let her join the crew. But it wasn’t just the groveling that did it for her, Scorpia was the kindest person she knew and having her around made her dark days seem lighter. It was always nice, having someone you knew would never turn their back on you. Suddenly, Adora’s face flashed into her head.

Catra stabbed at her lunch, grumbling underneath her breath, “...stupid hair poof…dumb forehead…”

DT raised an eyebrow asking, “What went down between the two of you?”

Catra shrugged. “We got placed in different houses and she made new friends. Nothing more to it than that.”

The commotion in the Great Hall simmered to a halt as Headmistress Moon appeared at the head table. Scorpia squealed in excitement and whispered, “It’s time! She’s about to read the names for the games.”

Catra leaned her face into her palm, sighing. She rolled over a brussel sprout with her fork and asked, “Tell me why I care again? You can only enter your name if you're seventeen and, last time I checked, none of us are. So what’s the point of us even sitting around to hear the lineup?”

“It’s all about the drama, have I taught you nothing, kitten?” DT looked over their shoulder then leaned in closer and said in a low voice, “The Triwizard Tournament is one of the greatest events of the year and we have the honor of watching it from the home field this time.”

Catra didn’t look impressed.

DT growled. “How are you obsessed with quidditch but this bores you?”

“Quidditch is all about skill and strategy,” Catra huffed, “but this? This is just about making your school look good. Every Headmaster wants the title so everyone can know what a good job they think they’re doing, it’s pathetic.”

“Wrong again.” DT frowned. “It’s more than that. These games help people lead with their greatest qualities and when the last person is standing, no one can deny that they’re the champion; and they didn’t get there because their mum and dad got them in the race, or because of blood status, but because of their hard work and determination. Could you imagine if a muggle—or a hybrid won? That could change everything.”

“Statistically unlikely,” Entrapta muttered.

DT glared at her. “What?”

“The odds of someone not born of pure blood becoming the champion, it’s highly unlikely.”

Catra could see where she was coming from. For someone to enter the tournament they had to be well versed in all areas of magic and be ready for anything. She heard rumors of the horrors that went on during the games; one person had their leg amputated, one year they had dragons roaming the field, and another year they had a dementor waiting for them on the other side. Although, Catra still wasn’t sure if she believed that last one or not.

The lights in the Great Hall dimmed. Catra returned her gaze to the front, rolling her eyes at Headmistress Moon’s theatrics. There was a large goblet sitting in the front of the hall with a bright-blue flame wicking out from it. She watched in morbid curiosity as the flames morphed from blue to pink and spat out a folded piece of paper that had somehow remained unaffected by the flame. Headmistress Moon caught it between her fingers and carefully unfolded it.

Everyone waited with bated breath.

“The Durmstrang champion is Starla Vortex!” Headmistress Moon announced.

Cheering erupted from the Durmstrang section.

“Wait,” Catra said as she nudged DT with her elbow, mouth agape. “Isn’t she…?”

“Tallstar’s little sister? Bingo.” DT whistled.

Scorpia gasped. “She’s one of the star siblings? Whoah, talk about some big shoes to fill—didn’t her older sister and brother each come out as champions when they played?”

“Correct,” Entrapta said.

Catra watched as Tallstar and Jewlstar embraced their little sister, excitement dripping from their faces. Starla hugged them back, but the smile on her face seemed strained. The expression lingered, even as Starla walked up to the front to shake hands with Headmistress Moon.

The next paper bursted from the flame and into Headmistress Moon’s hand. “The champion of Beauxbatons is Peekablue Waters!”

More cheering erupted from the other side of the hall. A group of female students all dressed in a blue and white uniform were swarming a girl with short blue hair and purple eyes. Peekablue emerged from the group when they allowed her the chance and walked up to Headmistress Moon and shook her hand before joining Starla off to the side.

“The Hogwarts champion—”

Catra’s ear twitched.

“...Huntara Ebbers!”

Shocker, she thought sarcastically, that brute never misses an opportunity to flex her muscles. Catra rolled her eyes as the Gryffindor house swarmed around their champion. A strange feeling bubbled in her throat when she saw Huntara reach down to pull Adora into a hug that lifted her off the ground; Adora laughed nervously, her flushed face pressed clean into Huntara’s large biceps. Catra nearly snapped her fork in half.

DT shook their head. “No surprise there.”

Huntara approached Headmistress Moon and thanked her before joining the rest of the champions.

“We have our three champions!” Angela smiled. “But in the end—” the words died in her throat as the flames from the goblet turned rampant. Headmistress Moon frowned as she slowly approached the goblet. Then, a burst of fire shot out from the goblet and spat out another slip of paper that landed neatly in the palm of her hand.

Catra frowned. What’s going on?

Headmistress Moon appeared confused as well. She unfolded the paper and spoke, voice in disbelief, “...Catra D’riluth?”

Catra’s blood turned cold. No way…

“Catra D’riluth,” Headmistress Moon said, the disbelief in her voice replaced with simmering outrage. She looked around the room frantically in search of her. The students followed her lead, scanning the hall for any signs of her.

Catra sunk into her seat.

Scorpia gaped. “Uhh, Wildcat?”

Catra pinched herself. Please let her be dreaming. Nope, not a dream. She was just living a nightmare.

Headmistress Moon lost her patience and shouted, “Catra D’riluth!”

Catra remained in her seat, frozen.

“Come on,” DT whispered.

She didn’t move.

DT nudged her out of her stupor and hissed, “Go on then.”

Catra staggered out of her seat and slowly walked to the front, trying to ignore the eyes burning into her. She stopped in front of Headmistress Moon who was glowering down at her. Forget making her eye twitch because of a little hex, Headmistress Moon was oozing with fury—Catra thought the woman was going to catch fire at any moment.

She shoved the paper into Catra’s hand, smoke still wafting from the edges. Catra took it and looked down. Sure enough, her name was written on it. She gulped, then looked back up. She wanted to argue her case, but the look on Headmistress Moon’s face made her swallow her retort. Instead, Catra backed away and stood beside Huntara in the line of champions doing everything in her power to avoid Adora’s watchful eyes from the audience.

Catra ducked her head.

“Cheater!” someone shouted.

“She’s not even seventeen yet!”

“Hybrid cheat!”

The room exploded in outraged uproar.

Catra clenched her fists at her side.

After the announcements, Catra found herself sitting in Headmistress Moon’s office. Headmistress Moon stood behind her desk with her arms behind her back while Professor Micah (her DADA mentor) stood beside Catra, providing a comforting presence. A long moment of silence hung in the air before it was broken. “I’m only going to ask this once, and I demand the truth.” Headmistress Moon narrowed her eyes and asked, “Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Catra?”

“No,” she growled. “I’m not stupid. I know what these games are like.”

“She’s not lying, love.”

Headmistress Moon snapped her head to Professor Micah. She opened her mouth, then thought better of it and took a calming breath before asking in a softer voice, “How can you be so sure?”

“Because she’s my student, and I trust her,” he said with ease.

She scoffed. “Micah please…you can hardly raign her in half the time and I’m supposed to take your word for it now?”

“I’m not lying!” Catra argued.

Professor Micah nodded. “She isn’t. Think about it, love. The Goblet of Fire is an exceptionally powerful magical object and only powerful confundus charms could break through its defenses. That kind of magic is far beyond the bounds of even a sixth year—it takes decades to build that kind of energy.”

Catra thought back to Shadow Weaver and her book on dark magic. Then, she shook the thought from her head. It was impossible. There was no way she did this on her own, willingly or not.

Headmistress Moon rubbed her temples, sighing. “Whether I believe her or not doesn’t appear to make a difference, the rules are absolute…the Goblet of Fire creates a binding magical contract. For your sake, I hope you didn’t thrust this upon yourself because, as of tonight, you are a Triwizard Champion.”

Catra felt her stomach churn.

Headmistress Moon grabbed her wand. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to see how I can explain this to the board.” Then, she disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

The chair fell backwards when Catra shot up to her feet. She started pacing the room with her claws scratching at her hair. “This is insane, I can’t compete in the tournament…last year they had dementors! Some guy lost his bloody leg!”

“Catra, calm down. Look at me, take a moment to breathe.” He warned, “Your magic.”

She stood pacing and glared up at him. “I didn’t do it.”

“I know you didn’t.” He paused. “Have you experienced any withdrawal symptoms recently?”

Catra ducked her head. “Just the usual…the voices come back worse at night, telling me I’m not good enough—that I should just depend on using dark magic to make something of myself. But I haven’t touched the book she gave me, not since we started training, I promise—there’s no way I would have done something like this.”

“I already said I believe you, and when I say something I mean it. Okay?”

She nodded, feeling her heart slow down. “Now what?”

“Now…you get some rest and we figure the rest out as we go.”

What was there to figure out? She was royally screwed. Then again, maybe it didn’t really matter. She’ll probably get knocked out in the first level, because there was no way in hell they would ever let a hybrid become the champion.

After talking with Micah, Catra made her way to the entranceway of the Slytherin common room and found Adora waiting for her outside the painting; she was sitting with her back to the wall, knees hugged tightly into her chest seemingly lost in thought. At the sound of her footsteps, Adora jumped to her feet and took a careful step forward. Catra was too drained from tonight's events to put up a fight.

“What do you want?”

Adora played with her fingers, nervously. “I wanted to check in on you.”

Catra cut to the chase. “I didn’t put my name in.”

Adora blinked. “I know. You’re not an idiot.”

Catra’s lips twitched into a smile before she could help herself.

Adora smiled back and confessed, “I actually wanted to help…I could train you, you know?”

Catra froze. “Excuse me?”

“With dueling. I was thinking I could help you practice for the tournament—”

“You're unbelievable.” Catra laughed. “You think I need your help after everything? News flash, I haven’t needed you in years, Adora, and I managed to do just fine—and I don’t plan on making any changes now.”

Adora scoffed. “Stop being stubborn and take the help, Catra. I’m a stronger defensive spellcaster than you—we both know it—and if you won’t take advantage of my help then you’ll end up getting yourself killed.”

“Fuck you, Adora.” Catra bumped shoulders with her in passing.

Adora cursed under her breath and called after her, “Catra come on…I didn’t mean it like that—”

“Leave me alone, Grayskull.”

Adora was good for it anyway. Why stop now?

Chapter Text

1

“…ra…Catra!”

Catra was startled from her thoughts by the loud shout. She looked up from where she was doodling in her notebook and found the entire class staring at her; the tips of her ears turned pink when she heard their quiet snickering. From the front of the class Micah had his arms crossed with a glare fixed towards her.

Catra gulped, then sat up straight in her seat. She cleared her throat and asked, “Pardon, Professor?”

He sighed. “I asked if you knew which spell could be used in order to slow the momentum of—”

“You would use the impediment jinx,” Catra answered swiftly.

Micah paused, his lips quirking up into a discreet smile. He nodded and said, “Correct…and since you so kindly provided the answer, perhaps you could offer me a hand for this next part?”

Catra shrugged. “Sure.”

He continued, “The impediment jinx is the perfect spell for dueling when your opponent is sending something your way; it works on objects, living creatures, and so much more.” Micah walked over to his desk and picked up the crystal ball resting on its stand; he balanced it from one hand to the other while he slowly paced in front of his desk. “In order to perform the spell you need to focus on the object heading towards you, then imagine it coming to a stop—sometimes it helps when you think about something that has a tremendous weight.”

A snort. “Like a Slytherin’s ego,” Glimmer muttered from across the room.

Laughter erupted from the class, echoing louder from the Gryffindor section. Scorpia grabbed Catra by the arm when a growl slipped from her mouth and prevented her from leaping across the room. Glimmer looked back at Catra with a smug grin; Catra wanted to claw that expression right off her face. The only thing that helped her simmer down was the scolding look Adora shot Glimmer as the noise settled down; even throughout the start of it, Adora hadn’t joined in on the mocking.

Catra hated how much Adora’s opinion mattered to her, even now. It was obvious Adora only saw her as a charity case—as someone she had to keep an eye on—why else would she offer to train her for the tournament? Did she really have such little faith in Catra to succeed on her own?

“Settle down,” Micah said, sending Glimmer a stern look.

Glimmer sunk into her desk.

“As I was saying, this spell can be of great use to you. Especially those who are seeking a more…active form of employment in the future, like working as an Auror or an Unspeakable. It might even help you outside of work when you're in a pinch.”

Suddenly, Micah threw the crystal ball towards Catra.

She quickly lifted her wand and shouted, “Impedimenta!”

The crystal ball slowed to a stop, inches from her nose, then landed on her notebook with a thud. Her chest rose and fell in rapid succession as her heart threatened to leap out of her chest.

Micah smiled. “See? It can be very useful.”

“Nice work, Wildcat,” Scorpia cheered.

“She just got lucky,” someone whispered.

Another snort. “It’s not even a difficult spell. A first year could probably pull it off.”

“You know what they say, every hybrid has its day.”

Catra tightened her grip on her wand and dropped back into her seat. Micah settled the class down once more, gave Catra a small nod of approval, and continued with his lesson. By the end of class, Catra was itching to escape but just as she started packing up her bag Micah asked if she could stay behind for a moment to talk. Holding back a sigh, Catra said goodbye to Scorpia, ignored Glimmer’s passing glare as she grabbed the crystal ball, and walked up to Micah’s desk.

“This belongs to you.” Catra placed the crystal ball back on the stand then crossed her arms and gave him an unimpressed look. “Thanks for the heads up by the way.”

Micah laughed sheepishly. “I know you’re not fond of surprises, but it was a great teaching opportunity for everyone—especially you. By now you have to have noticed that you do extraordinary things when placed under pressure.”

She couldn’t argue with that. “What did you want to talk about?”

His carefree expression turned somber. He laced his fingers together and rested his chin on the bridge and asked, “How is everything? With your urges.”

“They’re okay,” she answered honestly. “Everyone was being a jerk today but I didn’t hear any voices. But they still show up at night, so I’m not completely out of the woods just yet.”

He nodded. “It makes sense, right before bed your body is at its weakest—fatigued from your strenuous schedule—but since it’s not showing up during the day that means you’re getting better at controlling your withdrawal and harnessing your magic.”

Lucky me, she thought sarcastically.

“I have an assignment for you.”

She groaned.

“No complaining, and don’t tell me you don’t have the time, you have a perfect score in all your classes and I know you’re ahead on your work.”

“Exactly. So why are you punishing me for being awesome?”

“It’s not a punishment, it’s—”

“An opportunity to improve my magical barriers, blah blah blah. I know the spiel.”

His expression softened. “It’s not a spiel…I know you’re capable of doing extraordinary things, Catra. And aren’t you interested in becoming an Obliviator? You have the brains and the scores to prove yourself but applications are becoming more and more competitive each day—and with your stained record and troubling altercations you involve yourself in, your path isn’t looking as smooth as you think.”

Catra growled. “It’s not my fault the golden losers rope me into their stupid plans! I promise you, if I could go one day without—”

“No more excuses. I know becoming a champion wasn’t what you had in mind this year—and while it’s dangerous, it can also be a useful tool for you. And if I’m being honest, with your probational record a lot of programs won’t even glance at your application but, with the title of the Triwizard Champion under your belt, none of that matters. So use this opportunity to chase your dreams, and walk differently knowing that, from this day forward, as a champion, everything you do will be looked at under a magnifying glass.” He stood up and handed her a paper with an organized list. Micah explained, “Give me an essay on innovative approaches to strengthening mental barriers for witches, including a section on which ones you found the most successful from your own personal experiences. On my desk by next week.”

“But—”

“You’re dismissed, Catra.”

Micah sat back in his seat and started to work on grading papers. Catra groaned into her hands, then made a show of snatching her notebook and stomping towards the door. Without looking up from his papers Micah added—

“And don’t forget you have a dinner party tonight to celebrate the rising champions of the tournament, don’t be late.”

She slammed the door behind her.

2

There was a black garment bag laid out on her bed when Catra arrived back to the Slytherin dorms.

Catra stood at the foot of her bed and asked, “What’s that?”

“I should be asking you that.” DT was sitting on their side of the room, lounging on the bed reading a book; they bookmarked their page then looked up at Catra with an eyebrow raised. “The charm on the door wasn’t touched when I arrived, but somehow they still managed to get that thing inside. I haven’t touched it, who knows what kind of magic it dragged in.”

Catra cautiously unzipped the bag and gasped. Inside the garment bag she found a red and black suit perfectly tailored to her size. There was a white business card delicately placed on the white pocket square that was tucked into the front suit pocket. She picked up the card and read the bolden words aloud—ONLY THE BEST FOR A CHAMPION. ARRIVE AT THE ROOM OF REQUIREMENT, 7 PM SHARP.

DT was at her side in an instant, whistling. “Snazzy, and it looks just like something you would wear.” They snatched the business card from her and looked for themselves. “And a mysterious rendezvous, I’m jealous.”

“Don’t be,” she huffed. “It’s just a stupid dinner party.”

“It’s not stupid, it’s part of the game.” DT explained, “This is when alliances are forged.”

“I don’t need an alliance.”

DT’s face darkened. “Do you want to end up like the guy who had his leg amputated?”

“I know, I know, it’s just…” Catra collapsed on her bed, landing beside the garment bag, and  sighed. She turned her head towards the suit and muttered, “Everything is just happening so fast, a day ago no one cared about what I did and now, everything is important—that’s what Micah said, at least.”

DT sat beside her. “He’s right. Your life changes after this, but being a champion has its perks too—the endless supply of money, people knowing your name wherever you go, the opportunities you get exposed to, not to mention the prestige. Could you imagine what would happen if you actually won? Imagine what that would do for hybrids. You don’t even have to win, if you make it through a couple rounds showcasing your power it would prove them wrong.”

“They hate us,” she snapped, “and you want me to go out there, put on this suit, and dance for them?”

“I want you to play the game.” DT narrowed their eyes. “Once you win, they can’t control you anymore. So put on the suit, give them your best smile, and find one person in there who doesn’t make you want to claw your eyes out and forge an alliance with them.”

Silence.

“...we’re counting on you,” DT whispered.

Catra looked at the suit again. Playing the part went against everything she stood for, but if it meant creating a better future for hybrids everywhere, then maybe she could suck it up for just a little bit longer.

“Fine. Help me with the stupid tie.”

3

The door to the Room of Requirements opened when Catra approached it. The looming double doors opened to reveal two long tables that seemingly went on forever, set with plates and cutlery, and decorated with roses and lilies of all colors. Overhead, there were sparkling stars floating near the high-rise ceiling, providing low light for the room. But what truly caught her attention were the pictures of previous Triwizard Champions lining the walls, showcasing the exact moment in time when each champion reached the finish line to claim their title above their opponents. The longer she looked, the more her mind foolishly started to wander with frivolous thoughts; maybe that could be her one day.

“No way!”

Catra jumped back when a small child came running towards her. She instinctively reached for her wand, glancing around the room in a futile attempt at figuring out whose daughter this was. “Uhh…did you lose your parents or something?”

“You’re Catra D’riluth, right? The magicat hybrid from Slytherin? Adora Grayskull’s rival? The bane of Headmistress Moon’s existence?” With each question, the girl moved closer and closer until Catra found herself backed into a wall with a dozen sets of curious eyes on her.

Catra’s ear turned pink from the attention. She gently pushed the girl away, avoiding the looks from the nearby champions and glowered down at the girl. She hissed lowly and asked, “Ever hear of personal space? And how do you know so much about me?”

“Uhh, duh, I’m just your biggest fan.” The girl cleared her throat and held out her hand, grinning. “Frosta Nightglass at your service. I promise I’m not stalking you or anything, my mom is a reporter for the tournament so I get access to all kinds of cool events like this.”

Catra cautiously shook her hand. “Uh-huh…and did you need something, or…?”

“Your autograph!”

Catra blinked, shocked. “Seriously?”

Frosta handed her a picture and a pen; it was a snapshot of Catra hanging off her broom, holding on for dear life with one hand while her other hand was holding a quaffle. Catra remembered the moment with startling clarity, her team was behind just one point when she pulled a ballsy move and soared past Adora’s defense and headed right for the goal.

Catra snatched the picture and signed. Then, she frowned. “Where did you even get this?”

“Thanks so much!” Frosta cheered, taking the autograph and holding it in the air as if it were her most prized possession.

“Don’t ignore my question,” Catra huffed. “And why do you need my autograph? Wouldn’t you rather have one of theirs?” She jerked her head towards the other champions who were chatting amongst themselves on the other end of the room, sneaking dirty looks their way.

“Those jerks?” Frosta said, “They’ll get knocked out in the first round but I’ve seen what you can do—I was in the hallway yesterday when you went up against Adora.”

Catra wanted to crawl in a hole and die. “Oh, you saw that?”

Frosta grinned. “It. Was. Awesome. Can you teach me some of your spells? Ohmymerlin, you could be my mentor! Please, please, can you?”

This kid is so annoying, Catra thought. However, she couldn’t help the way her chest warmed when she looked at the pure joy leaking across Frosta’s face. The kid was a pain, for sure, but it was also nice to have a twerp like her look up to her—unlike the others, Frosta looked at her like she wasn’t a screw up.

“Are you enrolled in a wizarding school yet?” Catra cut her off.

Frosta faltered. “No-not yet, but—”

“Then I can’t help you. If you’re not in school you can’t even practice magic on your own.”

Frosta blocked her path when Catra tried to sidestep her. “What about research? I can start building my fundamental magic from there and then once I’m in class it’ll be easier for you to mentor me.”

A thought came to mind. Catra smirked. “Okay, kid, I’ll take that bet. Give me a paper on ways to improve your mental barriers in four days, if it’s any good then I’ll consider being your mentor.”

Frosta’s jaw dropped. “For real? You won’t regret this, I promise!”

Catra let out a relieved sigh when Frosta spun on her heels and raced for the door, set on getting started right away. Then, the hair on the back of her neck rose when someone brushed up beside her. Catra turned around with a hiss ready on her tongue but it died in her throat when a glass was shoved in front of her face.

“Here, drink this, it looks like you need it.”

Catra looked over the rim of the glass and found Starla, smiling at her. Catra reached for the glass then hesitated.

Starla laughed. “You really think I’d poison you? Here, in front of all these people?”

“Of course not,” Catra huffed, taking the glass and drinking from it. Her eyes went wide and she downed it in the next go. “Whoa, what is this?”

“Water, believe it or not, but it’s charmed to turn into whatever you need most at the moment.” Starla rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly and said, “Sorry if that was a bit rude, but I saw you trying desperately not to strangle Frosta all the way from across the room. Did she tell you her mom’s a reporter? Could you imagine how that would’ve looked in the paper? Hybrid champion strangles small, but annoying, child.”

Catra winched. “Yeah, that’s not good.”

“Very not good.” Starla held out her hand. “By the way, I’m—”

“I know who you are,” Catra cut her off, giving her a firm handshake. “Pretty sure everyone does. You’re a Star sibling, trying to live up to your family’s expectations and continue the tradition to bring home the trophy.”

Starla’s smile thinned. “Yep. That’s me.”

Catra wanted to punch herself. Why would she bring up such a sore topic? She had already seen the distraught look on Starla’s face last night when her name was pulled from the cup. And being in front of Starla now had only confirmed Catra’s assumption that Starla had a lot of pressure riding on winning the tournament.

Catra ducked her head. “Sorry.”

“For what? Telling the truth? I’ve been to these dinners before with Tall and Jewels, it’s all about fake smiles and underhanded compliments so it’s actually kind of relaxing to have someone so bluntly honest here for once.” Starla confessed, “Plus, it’s nice to have someone around who gets what it’s like to have expectations.”

Catra frowned. “And you think that’s me? No offense, but you and I have absolutely nothing in common; everyone loves you, they practically throw flowers at your feet and kiss the ground right after. How could you and I possibly have anything in common?”

“We both have something to prove.”

Catra went quiet.

“You look at it as love, but I look at it as criticism; no matter what I do, people are constantly comparing me to my brother and sister.” Starla barked out a dry laugh. “If I win, I bet they’ll still find something to complain about—oh, Tallstar finished faster than you on the second round, or Jewlstar used a better assortment of spells during his debut.” Starla said, “I’m not trying to compare with you who’s had the most trauma, I just want you to know if you need some help out there you can count on me because I’m the only one who gets it. Everyone else, it doesn’t matter for them, after they lose they can all go back home to mum and dad and their fifty acres without leaving a stain on their legacy.”

Starla downed the rest of her drink and passed it off to one of the wait-staff.

Starla went to walk away but paused before saying over her shoulder, “Good luck, with whatever path you choose.”

Catra muttered under her breath, “You too.”

For the rest of the night, Catra reflected on Starla’s words.