The last day of term arrived with summer warmth and the faint buzz of goodbyes hanging in the air.
Trunks thudded down staircases, owl cages rattled, and Prefects shouted themselves hoarse trying to keep order.
Cassius—clean robes, trunk floating lazily behind him—walked through the courtyard with the unbothered stride of someone with no reason to rush.
Students parted like he was a dignitary.
Technically… he now was.
"Cassius! Cassius, over here—save us a seat!" called one of the Griffindor third-years.
"No, with us!" protested a fourth-year muggleborn girl.
The last few days had been a sore source of discussion even within his own house.
There were now seven total members of the house but at most the train cabins could hold six, and they werent about to exclude only one person from the fun, sparking the internal debate about who would sit with Cassius on the train ride home.
The seniors, aka Cho, Daphne, Hermione, argued it was their right as the seniors, while the juniors, Ginny, Luna, and Astoria all argued they hadnt gotten as much time to spend with me and therefore should be gifted the time that the seniors had already gotten.
Daphne cut through them with the efficiency of a general.
"He's sitting with us."
Cho nodded primly. "Non-negotiable."
Cassius simply followed.
Resistance was pointless.
He hadn't found out how they'd done it, but it was something that was decided within the girls dormitory which he couldnt enter so short of forcing the information out of them through interrogation which as subordinates they couldnt resist he'd never know but it wasnt something he felt he needed to know and let the matter slide.
By the time they boarded the train, they'd already staked out a large compartment halfway down the second carriage.
The senior girls—Cho, Daphne, and Hermione—quickly arranged themselves with practiced camaraderie.
Cassius took the center seat, as he was directed with Hermione sitting alone across from him, but checking her watch every couple minutes clearly waiting for a specific time.
down the train car, Ginny's excited voice rang out.
"Luna! Astoria! This one!"
The younger trio commandeered a compartment near the end of the coach.
Ginny bounced onto the bench with bright-eyed energy; Luna drifted in with a dreamy smile and a copy of The Quibbler upside-down; Astoria shut the door behind them like a miniature, polite bodyguard.
It was adorable.
And faintly chaotic.
Cassius had a feeling those three would soon be trouble—in a strangely wholesome way.
He settled back in his seat as the train whistle shrieked.
Steam poured past the windows.
The Hogwarts Express lurched forward.
Another year ended.
Another stage began.
~
As the train rolled through the Lake District, conversation inside the Draconis compartment swirled like warm currents around Cassius.
The girls chatted about plans—beach trips, arcane studies, wizarding fashion, reading lists, next-year class choices, and a long, excited debate about how well Cassius was going to do both in quidditch and the dueling tournament he mentioned joining.
Cassius listened in silence, gaze drifting out the window.
Fields blurred past.
Mountains.
Forests.
Villages.
All so small from his perspective now.
His mind was elsewhere—already calculating, envisioning, shaping the path ahead.
The British National Quidditch Team.
He still felt the weight of the letter in his pocket.
He had been given a unique position, a place that so many dreamed of.
A place that allowed him to gain amazing prestige within the wizarding world just like Viktor Krum, he would be joining his national team and most likely becoming a household name in almost no time at all.
A place that forced even the pure-blood elite to acknowledge him.
And beyond that…
The Quidditch World Cup.
If he played well over the coming year—if he impressed the scouts, if he made the right moves, he could see his team replacing Ireland in the finals standing against the Bulgarians and their 'best seeker in the world'.
Fourth year… the perfect time to rise.
His little known name would explode across the entire wizarding world not just Britain, as he made a name for himself at the Quidditch world cup, and then again month later by participating in the Triwizard tournament to become the eventual winner as well.
And then there was the dueling circuit.
An international junior tournament.
A stage of prodigies all under the age of sixteen.
A battleground of technique, intellect, and magic.
A place Cassius needed to be seen as a rising star, to draw like minded to his cause just like his teacher before him.
A place where he could test himself against true talent… and demonstrate the singular difference between them.
He had plans for that circuit—plans requiring precision, discipline, and the training he'd been structuring secretly for months.
'Master?'
A soft mental whisper brushed his mind like warm embers.
Serepha.
His dragon.
'You were right the spiders are delicious, though i'm saving some for later, rather than eating them all at once, they are Delicious. Even the horsemen fear me having already provided me with an offering.'
Cassius allowed a small smile.
Serepha would need to reside in the forest for a while longer, as she grew up she would get bigger, and for the time being he couldnt risk exposing her to the world, but when the revolution kicks off she could be a symbol of his power.
Daphne in the seat beside him noticed his distracted state, leaning her head on his shoulder.
"You're thinking ahead again."
Cho leaned over as well. "Don't tell us you're mentally scheduling your entire summer already—"
"I am," Cassius answered simply. "well not just my summer."
His tone wasn't boastful.
It was factual.
Determined.
Cho sighed dramatically. "You're impossible."
Daphne smirked. "No. He's ambitious."
Cassius returned to the window.
The horizon split open with golden afternoon light.
His reflection drifted faintly across the glass—eyes sharp, posture steady, expression unreadable.
The heir of Draconis.
The youngest National Seeker in British history.
A duelist preparing for international combat.
A dragon lord in secret.
A child only by age.
"Volume Two" of his path was closing.
Volume Three would begin the moment the train stopped.
He rested one hand on the windowsill, fingers tapping lightly in rhythm with the train's wheels.
He could already see the future.
Already feel its shape.
Already hear the roar of crowds and the clash of spells.
Let Voldemort return.
Let the pure-bloods maneuver to rise up behind him.
The Arcanum would be ready to stand against them.
Cassius Snape would be ready.
Because he wasn't following Harry's story.
He was writing his own.
The Hogwarts Express pulled toward London.
And Cassius allowed himself one final thought—
A true dragon has hatched, and dragons do not crawl.
They Soar.
End of Volume 3.