Bors Burke cast a lingering glance around his shop, nostalgia flickering in his eyes, before closing them in despair.
Yet, the sound that echoed through the room was not the dreaded Avada Kedavra, but instead:
"Obliviate!"
As Cassandra finished casting the Memory Charm, she picked up a parchment and quill from the shop's cluttered counter. After scribbling a few lines, she turned on her heel and strode out of Bors Burke's shop without looking back.
As Cassandra walked away from the shop and out of Diagon Alley, a familiar voice called out behind her:
"You softened in the end, Cassandra. That wasn't what you'd planned, was it?"
Her steps faltered. She glanced back to see none other than her father, Thomas Vole, waiting for her on the opposite side of the shop's entrance.
Thomas Vole approached at a leisurely pace, falling into step beside her. "What you did today doesn't quite fit the style of the Pureblood Party, does it?"
Cassandra's expression remained composed as she continued walking. "I'm not one of the Pureblood Party. Why should I care about their style?"
Thomas Vole's brows lifted, clearly surprised. "Oh? I hadn't expected that. I thought you'd already joined them."
Though he'd been following Cassandra's instructions for some time now, she had never divulged the specifics of her plan. Naturally, Thomas assumed she was acting on behalf of the Pureblood Party.
Cassandra, however, paid little attention to her father's bewilderment. Her voice was calm but resolute as she replied:
"I acknowledge that the Pureblood Party once carried the glory of Grindelwald. There was an era where the wizarding world belonged to them. But what I seek is a future no less glorious—an era named Wentworth Grindelwald."
Thomas Vole said nothing more, quietly accompanying Cassandra as they returned to the Broken Axe Inn. There, he watched his daughter step into the fireplace and vanish in a swirl of green flames.
Back at the shop, Bors Burke slowly emerged from his stupor. He scratched his head, muttering, "Strange... I feel like I've forgotten something..."
He pondered for a moment but could recall nothing. Shrugging off the sensation, he returned to tidying the shop. It was then that his eyes fell on a folded note left on the counter:
I greatly admire your talents, Mr. Burke. Please keep your shop running. When I arrived, you appeared to be asleep, so I helped myself to a few items. The payment is in the back drawer. Please check.
Though utterly baffled, Bors Burke hurried to the back room. Sure enough, when he opened the drawer, a pile of gleaming Galleons met his eyes.
"Merlin's beard... Do I even own anything this valuable?" he murmured, blinking at the gold.
After a quick inspection of the shop, he found nothing missing. Returning to the drawer, he discovered a worn notebook tucked beneath the Galleons—his own journal. Though he didn't write in it daily, he would occasionally jot down noteworthy occurrences. Today, he decided, was certainly worth recording.
Yet as he flipped through the pages, his confusion only deepened.
"When did I write these last few entries? I can't recall a thing..."
He settled in, reading the notes carefully—oblivious to the missing memories locked away behind Cassandra's spell.
Meanwhile, Cassandra had returned to Hogwarts. Wasting no time, she summoned Kirk and Cedric to a secluded corner, producing the deck of cards crafted by Bors Burke.
She drew out the King of Spades and the King of Clubs, handing them to Kirk and Cedric respectively.
"This deck is called Stars. I had it custom-made, and its primary functions are..."
As Cassandra explained, Kirk's mouth slowly fell open.
When she finished, Kirk held the King of Spades aloft, angling it toward the sunlight. "Pretty? Sure. But is it really as magical as you say? Wait..."
His eyes narrowed as he examined the card's back more closely. "Is it just me, or is the starry sky on the back moving?"
Cassandra and Cedric leaned in, scrutinizing their own cards. It was subtle—almost imperceptible—but the constellation pattern was indeed shifting ever so slowly.
Kirk's eyes sparkled. "This is... brilliant! Cassandra, a deck this cool would be wasted just sitting in a drawer. How about a few rounds of cards?"
Cedric's fingers twitched eagerly, but Cassandra's smirk cut through their enthusiasm.
"A few rounds? Be my guest. The Stars deck is worth fifteen hundred Galleons—each card over two hundred. If you damage a single one, you'll owe me a replacement. What do you say?"
Kirk's hand clamped down protectively on the King of Spades before gingerly tucking it into his pocket. He exhaled slowly, as if releasing the breath he'd been holding.
"The Secret Order... we've really got style, don't we?"
Cedric quickly pocketed his card as well, nodding fervently. "Style or not, it's definitely expensive!"
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