[COMPLETED] Despite being sheltered all throughout her life by her adoptive mother Kendra Snow, secrets from Cassie Lyra Lee's true past were bound to eventually arise. Initially, all Cassie knew about herself was that she was adopted, magic circula...
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[Spitfire : Chapter Seventy-Two]
4 July, 1996
The stopwatch that rested in Isaac's frontrobe pocket ticked wildly, it's little hands falling under rapid control of the wild magic flying aimlessly through the air outside the Malfoy Manor. You didn't have to be a harmless muggle device to feel the overbearing remnants of magic, and you didn't have to be a spell-grader in order to deem the magic impressive. Isaac waited in front of the tall black gates, his anguish and worry being flushed by the rapid wisps of magic that reminded him terribly of his dilemma in his early seventh year.
"Deehan, ya' okay, lad?" Asked the figure beside him, their voice unrecognizable but grammar easily distinguished.
Mad-Eye Moody, a man who full-heartedly petrified Isaac Deehan, was going to be the boy's companion, and protector for the evening. However, he was disguised as recently captured Augustus Rookwood who somehow made the already terrifying good-guy even more scary.
"Y-Yeah, I'm alright," Isaac responded in a whisper, trying to shake away the magnificent warm rush of magic flowing through his veins. "Moody, speak less . . . Scottish, yeah?"
"I know how to handle myself, boy," The man grumbled, taking a swig of a familiar metal flask; poly-juice potion. "Just make sure your arse doesn't pass out when we're in there. You remember what you have to do, right?"
"Of course, I've been worrying about this day for as long as I could remember." Isaac groaned, through the darkness of the night sky, Isaac could spot two figures heading toward them from far down the path that led to the front doors of the Malfoy Manor.
"You will not show weakness when it happens," Mad-Eye warned with a silent but harsh whisper. "You may hiss, you may swear, but if you scream or yell your arse is devil-meat. If you cry, the last thing you'll feel won't be the mark, but Voldemort's unforgivable curses striking your body."
"I know, Moody," Isaac said, his exterior straightened readily but internally rumbled with nerves. "We've been over this a thousand-and-one times."
Mad-Eye ignored the moody teen. "What do you say when they ask why Mr. Rookwood arrived with you?"
"Augustus helped me rearrange my path," Isaac recited, cringing at the first-name basis he was forced upon. "I was going to betray my life's true past and join the Ministry as an Auror. But then I met Augustus, he treated me as a son, redirecting my bastardized path. I know my true reasoning now, why I've been chosen to live in this period of time. To be a soldier, warrior, to fight for what is right for the wizarding world. I will lay my life down for the purebloods of this earth, and I will dedicate my war against evil to those of whom we've lost throughout the years to this never-ending battle."