Louisa McMahon took a long sip of her coffee, savouring the fresh morning breeze wafting in through the open window. The exhaustion from the previous late night had melted away after a relaxing lavender-infused bath and some much-needed alone time with her husband. Edward now sat across from her, quietly enjoying his tea and reading the newspaper.
"Did you have fun last night, Greg?" – the Duchess asked her son, who was gloomily nibbling on a piece of dry toast – "I hope you didn't sneak a few drinks while your father and I weren't looking."
"I wish I had." – the boy replied sulkily – "Unfortunately, I had to stay sober so I could find decent places to hide throughout the evening. And I thought the girls at Hogwarts were shameless and rude…"
"Don't let them bother you, son." – the Duke said with a knowing smile, setting the newspaper aside – "I'm sure many of them were under strict instructions from their families to capture your attention. Now that you're older, you need to be aware of such tactics. Some of them won't hesitate to play dirty. I'd advise you to be cautious with any food or drink offered to you—love potions are tasteless and odourless."
"Are you serious?" – Greg asked, his blue eyes widening with a hint of desperation.
"Don't worry, sweetie!" – Louisa cooed, gently patting his hand – "I'll personally deal with any wench who tries to trap you into a relationship you don't want."
"That's something I'd love to see!" – Edward chuckled, his gaze softening as it rested on his wife. Louisa pursed her lips, resembling an angry kitten, which only made her husband laugh harder.
Suddenly, a piercing, high-pitched scream echoed through the castle, sharp enough to chill the blood. Louisa leapt to her feet, her heart pounding as she dashed toward her daughter's room, with her husband and son close behind.
'Please, Light!' – she prayed desperately, her thoughts a frantic blur as she took the stairs two at a time – 'Not now! She can't lose to that cursed demon!'
Reaching Catherine's door, the Duchess didn't hesitate. Driven by sheer terror, she unleashed her magic, blasting the door open with a resounding crack. The force sent it swinging wildly before it collapsed, its hinges mangled and broken. Breathless, Louisa froze in the doorway, her wide eyes fixed on the scene before her.
In the middle of the room, just in front of the ornate, full-length cheval mirror stood a tall young woman. She was dressed in a white cotton nightgown that was far too small for her, awkwardly short and tight, clinging to her form and emphasising an elegant yet strikingly well-developed feminine figure. Her black, wavy hair cascaded down her back in glossy waves, framing her poised silhouette.
Louisa's breath caught as her eyes fell on the crimson streaks streaming down the stranger's long, graceful legs. The vivid red of the bloody marks stood out starkly against the smooth porcelain of her skin, creating a chilling and jarring contrast.
The unknown woman turned abruptly, startled by the commotion, and locked her gaze with the other witch. Her high cheekbones gave her a regal, commanding presence, while her flawless, smooth skin seemed to glow softly under the golden light of the morning sun flowing through the window. A straight, slender nose complemented the perfect symmetry of her face. Her full, shapely lips, with a delicate cupid's bow, were the colour of freshly bloomed roses from the McMahons' front garden.
Streams of tears illuminated the woman's cheeks, setting her almond-shaped jade-green eyes aglow like polished gems. Framed by long, dark lashes, they radiated raw emotion—confusion and vulnerability—that brought Louisa out of her daze.
Snapping back to reality, the Duchess spun around, hastily pushing her equally stunned husband and son out of the room. With a flick of her wand, she repaired the door, letting it slam shut in their bewildered faces. Taking a deep breath, Louisa turned back to the sobbing woman and stepped closer.
As she gently embraced her, the blond witch was struck by how tall she had grown—taller than herself now. Stroking the woman's trembling back, she whispered softly, her voice steady but filled with remorse.
"I'm so sorry, my girl!"- she said soothingly - "I should have thought this might happen. I just didn't realise you had enough Veela blood to unlock your powers. But it's going to be alright. Let's get you cleaned up, find you some pads, and then we'll talk. There's so much I need to tell you."