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Chapter Text

Cassandra Lestrange's most vivid childhood memory was of her mother. At the time, she'd been a little girl just past toddlerhood, pretty and well-groomed, solemn for her age in the way some children of nobility can be. Her mother Bellatrix, tall and beautiful and powerful, knelt before her on the foyer of their family mansion, holding her daughter's face in her hands.

"Listen to me, Cassandra," her mother had said, "your father and I are going on a very important mission. Uncle Rab is coming with us."

"Is it a mission for the Dark Lord?" Cassandra had asked.

"Yes, it is, my love," the older witch had said. "We're going to find him. We're going to find him and aid him in his glorious return, and all will be well again."

"Am I staying at Aunt Cissy's?" Cassandra had asked.

At that, her mother had sneered. "No. Your aunt is likely at some party filled with filthy Muggle-lover Ministry members, kissing their feet in thanks for releasing that craven husband of hers. Those miserable traitors. You're to stay here. Your father and I made sure no one other than us can enter the house."

"I'll be alright, mummy. Mimi will be with me," Cassandra had said, referring to the Lestrange house-elf that had been tasked with tending to her needs since she'd been born.

"You're right," her mother had agreed, but she'd looked conflicted. "Mimi will take care of you. But you mustn't trust anyone else. Not Narcissa, or anyone who's turned their back to the Dark Lord in his hour of most need. It doesn't matter if they're family, or if you love them," Bellatrix had said intensely, trying to will the young girl into grasping the gravity of her words. "You can't ever believe a traitor of another to be loyal to you, no matter how trustworthy their actions may appear. You can pretend to if they're useful, but you must never forget what they are. Do you understand?"

Cassandra had nodded. Bellatrix had smiled as she rose to her feet, kissing the top of her daughter's head.

Cassandra Lestrange's most vivid memory of her mother also happened to be her last.

That night, Bellatrix Lestrange, alongside her husband Rodolphus Lestrange, her brother-in-law Rabastan and Barty Crouch Jr., had kidnapped and tortured Frank and Alice Longbottom into insanity in a failed attempt to uncover the whereabouts of their Lord, for whom they'd been searching for over a year. The four Death Eaters had been captured by a team of Aurors shortly after, and in less than a month, had been sent to Azkaban to serve life sentences.

The morning after her parents' capture, young Cassandra Lestrange had woken up to her home surrounded by Ministry officials, Aurors and members of the press, who'd been eager to report on the fate of the young heiress of two of Britain's most ancient pure-blood families, now besmirched by its members' heinous acts in service of the fallen Dark Lord Voldemort.

Scared and overwhelmed by the crowd that had gathered at the property gates, just outside the borders of the charm that protected the estate from entry by any persons not of Lestrange blood, or without an invitation from a Lestrange resident, Cassandra had found herself weeping in the arms of her favourite house-elf, her robes wet with tears and snot. For several hours none of them could speak, and all that could be heard in the house was the young girl's sobs.

"This is horrible, horrible, horrible," the house-elf had said, rocking her Mistress in her lap, trying to soothe the child. "The young Mistress will tell Mimi what she can do to make her better, or Mimi will throw herself in the fireplace!"

"I don't know, Mimi," she had said. "I'm afraid."

"Mimi will fight anyone who tries to hurt her Mistress Cassandra, yes she will!" The elf had said. There'd been a loud boom as yet another spell cast by one of the Ministry people collided against the charm that protected the house, and Cassandra began to sob again. Mimi had cried with her, upset at the terrible situation her little Mistress was in. They'd continued weeping as the house-elf had helped the girl bathe and clothe herself, as she'd eaten the meals prepared for her, as she'd been helped into her night clothes, and as they'd laid down to sleep holding each other's hand — Cassandra in her bed, and Mimi on a large cushion placed on the floor. The moonlight had shone through the window, and if anyone had looked into the young Miss Lestrange's bedroom that night, they would've seen two small bodies crying quietly all night long.

It'd been another seven days, interspaced with loud noises and small land tremors caused by spellwork until the Ministry personnel concluded that it would not be possible to brute force their way past the charm restricting access to the Lestangre property. By that point, the reporters who'd been at the scene in the first few days had already been retasked to cover the trials of Death Eaters that were being carried out by the Council of Magical Law. Cassandra, Mimi and the two other family house elves, Gibbo and Hux, had watched these developments anxiously from the windows.

From what the young girl had been able to gather, she'd understood that her parents weren't coming back. She'd also realized that the people outside the house wanted her, although she did not know what for, and feared what they might do to her once they got her. Her world had only ever consisted of her family and the rather small number of associates her parents had allowed into their home, and now her mother, father and godfather were gone, and she'd been warned not to trust the rest of her family. She didn't know what to do.

On the thirteenth morning since Cassandra had last seen her parents, when she stumbled sleepily from her bedroom into the dining room, she'd found a letter waiting for her at the table, alongside her breakfast.

The letter had been written in block letters, which was fortunate since she had not yet learned to read cursive, and was addressed to her, from her aunt Narcissa. Before opening it, Cassandra had called for her house-elf, who'd immediately popped by her side.

"Did Mercurius bring this letter, Mimi?" Cassandra had asked, referring to the family owl.

"No, Mistress," the elf had said. "The owl that gives the paper to Gibbo every day brought it, and Mimi put it there. Is Mimi a bad elf?"

"No, you're a good elf, Mimi," the child had said, and the elf had puffed her chest. "It's from Aunt Cissy."

"Is Mistress Cassandra trusting her aunt again?" Mimi had said.

"Mummy said we can never trust her again. Do we have to trust her to read her letter, Mimi?" The girl had asked uncertainly.

"Mimi doesn't think so. If the young Mistress doesn't like what the letter says, Mimi will burn it!" The house-elf had replied.

Cassandra had opened the envelope and read its content aloud, sounding out the more complicated words like she'd been taught.

My dear niece,

I hope this letter finds you well. Your mother, father and uncle Rabastan were unsuccessful in the mission they set out to accomplish, and I fear you will not be able to see them for some time. Your uncle Lucius, your cousin Draco and I have been very worried about you, since we don't know whose care you have been left in. We would like to have you over for tea, to make sure you are well. The floo connection seems to be locked, but I can come fetch you at any time you desire. I wait anxiously for your reply.

All my love,

Aunt Narcissa

Cassandra had read and re-read her aunt's words. Despite her fear, she'd known that she would have to talk to an adult at some point. She had food, Mimi, and her books, but a child couldn't live by herself, even if she did have a manor and three house-elves. However, she was aware that the only thing protecting her from the world was the fact that the house wouldn't let anyone in. If she left or allowed her aunt in, they could take her away. Mimi, Gibbo and Hux would fight for her, but they might get hurt and even be killed. If Mimi died, she'd be alone. She wasn't sure she believed her aunt would hurt her, but her father had said Uncle Lucius was a worthless turncoat who didn't care about anything but his own skin, and Draco was just a baby, so they couldn't possibly be worried about her. That meant her aunt was lying. Of course, her mother had warned her about that.

"Mimi, if I go outside, can they spell me?" she had asked.

"Their magic can't go past the gates, Mistress. Just like they can't get in, their magic can't either," Mimi had said. Cassandra had nodded. She had a plan.

That afternoon, after bathing, putting on her best robes and letting her house-elf braid her hair, Cassandra had steeled herself to walk out the door that separated her from the outside world. Her arms and legs had been shaking. Mimi had tried to change her mind from the moment she'd explained what they were going to do.

"It's going to be okay. It's going to be okay," Cassandra had said quietly, squeezing Mimi's hand for reassurance, and walked out the door before she lost her nerve.

The two men keeping guard at the outer side of the gates had leapt to their feet and drawn their wands as soon as they'd noticed the front door of the Lestrange Manor opening. They'd blanched at the sight of a little girl walking in their direction. She matched the description of the Lestrange's daughter, but they'd been unsure she was alone in the house, or even alive at all.

As she'd walked towards the gates, head held high like she'd been taught, Mimi invisible by her side, Cassandra had worked to stuff all of her fear, her sadness and the million different emotions she'd been feeling the past nine days into a tiny little box inside her chest, which she hid somewhere dark and secret. She would be fierce like her mother and steady like her father. Even if she was a little girl, she was also a Lestrange. She wouldn't let anyone see her fear.

She'd stopped walking three steps from the gate, facing the men who were eyeing her warily. She'd willed herself not to twitch, standing perfectly still and maintaining a neutral expression.

"I am Cassandra Victoria Lestrange, heiress of the Lestrange family and member of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black," Cassandra had said like she'd been instructed to numerous times by her father. The men had stared at her diminutive height for a few seconds before one of them stepped forward decisively.

"Kingsley Shacklebolt, and my associate, Mr. Gawain Robards," the man who'd stepped forward said. "Pleased to meet you, Miss Lestrange." Neither of them had bowed, which they should have according to her lessons, but she figured she shouldn't say anything. She had questions she needed to ask, and it wouldn't do well to start by chiding the men she wanted answers from. Adults didn't appreciate being corrected by children.

"Did you fight against the Dark Lord, Mr. Shacklebolt?" she'd asked, having decided beforehand directness would be the best approach.

"Yes, I did," the man had said.

She'd expected that answer.

"Have you ever betrayed anyone?" The two men had seemed startled by the question, but she needed to know in order to obey her mother. Gibbo had read in The Prophet that the Dark Lord had lost the war, so it made sense that the people trying to get her were the ones who'd won. But if they were traitors, she couldn't trust them not to hurt her, even if they gave her their word that they wouldn't. If the man answered yes, she would go back inside and wait for the ones who kept guard at night to arrive and ask them the same questions.

"I lied to my parents a few times as a kid, to avoid trouble and such," he'd said measuredly, "and I've lied when I had to, for my job, but I've never betrayed anyone."

She had also lied to her parents a few times when she got caught doing something she oughtn't be doing, and those lies hadn't seemed like betrayal to her. Her mother said she could always tell when she was lying, and she seemed more amused than angry whenever Cassandra spun tales of ghosts and gnomes and other magical creatures to explain a broken vase or stained robes. If those had been betrayals, the girl reasoned, surely her mother wouldn't have let her get away with it. She would've been disinherited, like great-aunt Walburga did with her blood-traitor son. Being a liar, Cassandra Lestrange had concluded, wasn't the same as being a traitor.

"Alright. I got a letter today," she had said. "Would you like to see it?"

"Sure," Mr Shacklebolt had replied. "Do you have it with you?"

"Mimi," Cassandra had called out, and the elf popped between the two men, just like they'd discussed.

"Merlin!" The man introduced as Mr. Robards had said, startled, and Cassandra had to work not to snicker. Mr Shacklebolt had accepted the letter from the elf, who'd immediately disappeared again. The two wizards had read it, not seeming surprised or bothered by its content.

"I see. Do you know what it says?" Mr Shacklebolt had asked. She'd nodded. "Would you like us to take you to your aunt?"

Cassandra's eyes had narrowed. If they weren't surprised by the letter, it meant they already knew about it. Her aunt was working with them, and lying to her. Even if she'd already expected it, the betrayal hurt. Her mother had been right about Aunt Cissy.

"No, thank you. But I would like to owl her back," she'd said calmly. "Would you write the letter for me, Mr Shacklebolt? I haven't been taught how to yet."

"If I do, will you let us inside?" he'd asked.

"No. But if you do, you can ask me a question, and I promise on my magic I'll tell you the truth." It was a vow she'd heard adults make before, and she believed it was meaningful.

"We have a deal, Miss Lestrange," the man had answered.

"Mimi," she'd said, and again the elf popped between the men, this time bringing a writing desk, chair, parchment, quill and ink with her. When Mr Shacklebolt sat down, the elf had made herself invisible and retaken her place behind Cassandra.

"Dictate away, Miss Lestrange."

"Dear Aunt Narcissa," she'd started. In the letter, Cassandra had told her aunt she'd heard about what had happened to her parents and her godfather, and that she was safe and taken care of by the house-elves. She'd declined her aunt's invitation for tea, saying she was too sad and scared to leave the house.

As she'd finished her dictation, Cassandra could see the corner of Mr Shacklebolt's mouth curving up on an amused smile. Good. That meant he understood the meaning of her words. She had sat by her father's side on numerous occasions as he wrote his letters in his study, marvelling at the mysterious and duplicitous world of adults, where one used nice words to communicate angry feelings, and the language she was using had been entirely lifted from her father's communications. Her parents may be gone, but they had given her many gifts throughout her young life, and she was going to use as many of them as she could to keep herself safe.

"Could you summon your elf again, Miss Lestrange, so she can take the letter and your belongings inside?" Mr Shacklebolt had said, and at her call, Mimi did exactly that.

"Thank you for your help, Mr Shacklebolt."

"You're welcome," he'd answered. "May I ask you my question now?"

She'd nodded.

"Is there anyone else in the house with you — perhaps a family friend your parents asked to take care of you?"

"No," she'd said truthfully. "Only me, Mimi, Hux and Gibbo, our house-elves."

Mr Shacklebolt had accepted her response without comment, but she was not sure he'd believed her. If he chose to think she was lying, she reasoned, there wasn't much she could do to convince him otherwise. Knowing Mimi would be at the aviary giving the letter to Mercurius for delivery, Cassandra had excused herself and walked back into the house.

The answer to her polite defiance had come two days later, not by letter, but through a loud booming voice that Cassandra swore could have woken the dead.

"MISS CASSANDRA LESTRANGE, PLEASE COME TO THE GATES. YOUR AUNTS AND A MINISTRY REPRESENTATIVE ARE HERE FOR YOU," the voice had shouted.

Mimi had immediately popped in front of her, looking frantic. Before the elf could get a word in, Cassandra had grabbed her hand, reassuring her.

"It's alright, Mimi. They can't get in and I'm not going out. I'm just going to talk to them," she'd said. The house elf had nodded, calming down. The two of them made their way out of the house, Mimi invisible a step behind her young Mistress.

Narcissa Malfoy stood outside the gates, alongside a square-jawed, slim, serious-looking witch and a woman whose appearance, for a moment, had made Cassandra's heart skip, due to her resemblance to the girl's mother. They had the same aristocratic face and tall, imposing height. The only obvious differences, she'd noted, were the woman's hair colour, a light brown to Bellatrix's jet black, and a softness in her eyes Cassandra had never seen in her mother's. The girl stood in front of the three women, waiting for an introduction.

"Hello, darling," her aunt Narcissa had said. "It's good to see you, you look well. These are Amelia Bones and Andromeda... Tonks. Ms Bones works for the Ministry of Magic and Mrs Tonks used to be a member of the Black family before she... married off. We're here to talk about how you've been. We've all been worried about you all alone in the house."

"For the love of Circe, Narcissa," the woman who looked like her mother had said, to which her aunt had scowled disapprovingly. "I rather think she can handle the truth if that letter is any indication. Amelia, may I?"

The Ministry witch had nodded, and the other woman had crouched so she stood at the girl's height, looking her in the eyes. "Hello, Cassandra. My name is Andromeda, and you're my niece. I don't know if you've heard of me, but I'm your mother and Narcissa's sister. I was disowned when I married my husband Ted because he's a Muggleborn. I'm here today with Narcissa because the Ministry has failed to secure you, so they thought you might come voluntarily with one of us."

"You're in the family tapestry by mother's side, but great-aunt Walburga burned your face off," Cassandra had replied.

"I bet she did," Andromeda had said lightly. "Do you understand why the Ministry has been trying to get you?"

"I'm a child, and children can't live by themselves." She wasn't sure that was their only motive, but she knew it was at least one of them.

"That's right," Andromeda had said. "The Ministry thought you'd be more amenable to your aunt Narcissa since we'd never met, so she got to write to you first. But I'd like to tell you that I've wanted to meet you for a very long time, and it would be a pleasure to have you in my family. I have a daughter a few years older than you, and she's always wanted a sister."

Cassandra had looked at her other aunt. "Are you here to ask me to live with you too, Aunt Cissy?"

"Yes I am, my darling," the witch had replied. "Your uncle Lucius and I are ready to take you in, and would gladly raise you to be the outstanding young lady I've always known you can be, as I'm sure your parents would want."

"My parents are in Azkaban," the girl had said sadly. Her aunt had nodded. Cassandra didn't know where Azkaban was, but it didn't sound like a place anyone would want to be. She'd turned to the Ministry witch. "Ms Bones, are they ever coming back?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Lestrange, but no. Your parents committed very serious crimes, and they'll spend the rest of their lives paying for them in Azkaban," the witch had said seriously, although Cassandra could tell she was trying to be kind. "That's why a decision regarding your custody must be made. Both your aunts have offered to be your guardian, and the Ministry has concluded that both are fit to assume that role, so I leave that choice up to you. Once you make that choice, I will ask you to allow us access to the property, so your belongings can be packed and we can clear the house of Dark artifacts and other dangerous things. So I ask you, who do you pick to raise you?"

Cassandra had pictured her mother and father, and wished more than ever that they had never left her. Never had she felt so alone. She wanted badly to live with the kind aunt she had just met, and would have even been happy once to live with Aunt Narcissa, but she knew that neither could be done now. She couldn't trust Aunt Cissy, and if her mother had never talked about her other sister, Cassandra didn't think she would like her to raise her daughter. She'd closed her eyes and thought about her options.

"Ms Bones, if I go with Aunt Narcissa or Aunt Andromeda, I have to live with their families," she'd said. "I don't want to become a Malfoy or a Tonks. I want to stay in my house, and be a Lestrange."

The witch had sighed. "For all that I understand your wishes, child, I cannot abide by them. You must have a guardian. If not your aunts, then another relative. As the last scion of the Lestrange family, this house belongs to you, so you could ask your guardian to move in, but ultimately it would be up to them, as the adult in charge."

"I have a manor and three house-elves. And I can get out, but you can't get in. So it is up to me. I'm not leaving. Grandpa Cygnus can be my guardian, or Great-aunt Walburga, I don't care. I'm going to stay in my house," Cassandra had said finally and grabbed Mimi's hand, the signal for the elf to apparate them into the house.

As eventually reported by The Daily Prophet, the siege of Lestrange Manor had lasted for thirty-two days. After failing to remove the charm denying entry to the house in the first couple of weeks, various Ministry workers and close relatives had tried to ask, bribe, lie, negotiate and intimidate the young Lestrange heiress into leaving the property and accepting the guardianship of her relatives, to no avail. It hadn't been until her grandfather, Cygnus Black III, made a blood vow swearing to raise his granddaughter in her family home, that the child had allowed anyone in.

Chapter Text

Cassandra settled into the vacant train compartment, neatly tucking her trunk under her seat. Like every year, she and her grandfather had made sure to arrive at platform nine and three-quarters ahead of time. This allowed them to avoid both the last-minute rush and the disapproving stares that Cassandra was often met with in public. At the age of thirteen, she bore a striking resemblance to her notorious mother. Her thick, shining dark hair, smooth complexion, and the fine, aristocratic features characteristic of the Black family might have typically drawn looks of admiration. However, the usual response to her appearance wavered between apprehension and disdain.

Reluctant as she was to admit it, she’d missed Hogwarts. It was one of the few, treasured places in magical Britain where adults judged her on merit alone. Nonetheless, a new school term signalled the arrival of a fresh batch of first-year students, among whom she expected to find an eleven-year-old boy whose mere mention was enough to unnerve her. 

Magical Britain had no shortage of children who’d been orphaned by the war her parents had waged. As a result of this, the initial months of each term were spent in a state of heightened vigilance, in case some other student decided to settle a score. She’d learned to be cautious from her first year; a Valentine’s Day gift of poisoned candy from an “anonymous admirer” had taught her that lesson. In the name of self-defence, Cassandra had accumulated more duelling experience than many of the seventh-years preparing for their N.E.W.T. exams. 

After a while, the compartment door slid open, revealing a familiar face. The boy stepped inside. “Found you,” he said with a slight grin. “How long have you been hiding out here? You're always so bloody early.”

“It spares me from having to elbow the riff-raff,” Cassandra replied lightly.

Sitting down across from her, the young wizard let out a dramatic sigh. “You're a sight for sore eyes, Lestrange. Another day in the company of my idiot cousins, and I might've stabbed myself in the eye with my wand.”

“I imagine that would put you at about the same intelligence level as the rest of the Puceys, Adrian. You'd finally belong,” she quipped.

"Perish the thought," retorted Adrian.

As the Hogwarts Express started moving, Cassandra turned to the window, watching the station slowly fade into the distance. Right then, the compartment door slid open again, and another boy entered, closing it quickly behind him.

“Hullo, Pucey, Lestrange.”

“Good to see you, Flint,” said Cassandra.

Adrian chimed in cheekily, “Should we refer to you as ‘Captain’ now? Oh, great leader, the possessor of all Quidditch strategy and wisdom…”

“Don't start,” the new Quidditch captain warned, jabbing a finger towards Adrian. Flopping into the seat next to the younger wizard, he groaned, “I've already been cornered by six different second-years about tryouts. We're not even at the castle!"

Cassandra laughed along with Adrian, “Heavy is the hand that brandishes the wand, Flint.”

“I figured I’d join you two since most people are too scared of her to come here — no offence, Lestrange.”

She shrugged, “None taken.”

The three of them talked about their summers and discussed their upcoming classes as the train sliced through the scenic countryside. A couple of hours later, Lee Jordan, a third-year Gryffindor, peeked his head in the compartment.

“DADA bet, any takers?” asked Jordan,

Flint shook his head. “Not me.”

Cassandra and Adrian exchanged a grin. This was one of their favourite Hogwarts traditions.

“Okay,” Adrian started. “First year, our Defence teacher fled the castle after trying to kill a student. Then in our second year, the new Defence teacher vanished without a trace after the Christmas break. So for this year, I’m going with… fired for inappropriate contact with a seventh-year student. Consensual.”

Jordan nodded, scribbling down Adrian’s prediction on a scrap of parchment. Adrian handed him a galleon, which the budding bookie promptly deposited into a reasonably sized leather pouch. “What about you, Lestrange?”

“I’ll put a galleon on killed by an Acromantula in the Forbidden Forest.”

Jordan’s eyes scanned the parchment, “Nice, I don’t think we’ve got that one yet.” He caught the coin Cassandra tossed him mid-air, “Always a pleasure doing business with you.”

Once Lee Jordan had left, Cassandra made a face at her friend. “Teacher-student affair?”

“Acromantula in the Forbidden Forest?”

“There's a whole colony of them out there. Last year, Klaus kept bringing me their dead babies as a gift. It took me forever to convince him that I was not keen on having spider carcasses the size of cats dropped on my lap at random.”

Adrian visibly shuddered at the thought. “Speaking of which, where’s your pet?”

“What are you, a Muggle?” chided Cassandra. "Klaus isn't a pet, he's my familiar, and he's flying to the castle on his own. He'd never forgive me if I put him in a cage.”

“More like he'd peck your eyes out.”

“He wouldn’t do that to me . At worst, he might rip out a few strands of my hair. Ravens are brilliant birds but can be terribly temperamental. And you know Klaus holds grudges, so be careful with what you say around him.”

“Yeah, who could forget the Weasley incident of nineteen ninety,” Flint chuckled, recalling the sight of the Gryffindor twins dashing through the Great Hall, a vengeful flock of ravens led by Klaus in hot pursuit, violently pecking them until Professor McGonagall intervened.

“It's not my fault they took my warning about Klaus as a challenge. They had it coming, kidnapping him and dyeing him red and gold. That spell took ages to wear off.”

“To be fair, Klaus did try to eat their brother's rat,” said Flint.

“I would've bought him another pet. A decent one for a change,” she countered. It was a wonder that Percy Weasley’s mangy rat managed to survive year after year in a castle inhabited by so many owls and cats.

“On the subject of Weasleys,” Adrian chimed in. “Can you believe Charlie decided not to go pro?” 

Flint shook his head as though he was in disbelief, “Talk about wasted potential.” He then launched into a discussion about Gryffindor’s Quidditch prospects. He was convinced that this year's cup was Slytherin’s to lose. As Flint ranted, Cassandra and Adrian shared an amused look over the fact that Adrian’s mention of Charlie Weasley wasn’t about Quidditch at all. 

Despite being a Gryffindor and very poor, Charlie Weasley had been the object of an embarrassing crush Cassandra had harboured for two years. And she wasn’t the only one. Before the holidays, Adrian had found himself in the middle of a sexuality crisis, brought about partly by the realization that his admiration of Charlie Weasley's physique wasn’t strictly platonic. 

As the compartment door slid open yet again, Cassandra contemplated if the punishment she surely would get for magically locking it would be worth the peace she would enjoy until they arrived at Hogwarts. At the sight of her little cousin, she decided the answer was yes.

“Cousin,” Draco greeted her with a slight bow.

“Draco,” responded Cassandra. 

“Mother suggested I reach out to you once I’m sorted into Slytherin, but I saw no need to wait," stated Draco with as much gravitas as an eleven-year-old could. 

Cassandra held back a grin. “Of course. So tell me, what do you need?”

“They're saying Harry Potter is on the train, somewhere in the back compartments.”

“Ooh, I see,” said Cassandra neutrally. “And you plan to introduce yourself to him?”

“It would be only right that the heir of a prestigious pure-blood family offers to help the Boy-Who-Lived as he integrates into our society,” Draco said, puffing up his chest. “No one knows where he's been over the past ten years. Imagine the things he might've been taught.”

Maybe someone had taught Potter who their families were and what they had done during the war, Cassandra thought to herself. “I see,” she said sardonically. “Good luck with that, Draco.”

As Draco made his retreat, Adrian gave Cassandra an incredulous look, “Is he for real?”

Cassandra laughed. “He’s Lucius Malfoy’s son. Of course, he’s for real.”

“Do you think he's really in the train… Harry Potter?” said Flint.

“The dates add up,” said Cassandra, looking at her shoes. She was wearing new black leather doll shoes. Very bow-tie propper, which is why they’d been set out for her in the morning. 

“Does that…” said Adrian, struggling to articulate his question. “How does that… I mean, he's the reason…”

Cassandra cut in, wanting this conversation to be done with, “My parents picked a side and their side lost. I’m not looking for a rematch.”

Both wizards nodded, picking up on the terseness of her tone. The war wasn’t a subject she allowed herself to dwell on. Whenever her mind strayed toward it, she forcefully redirected her thoughts to the present. While her parents had lived in a world of ideology, she’d grown up in a world shaped by the consequences of their actions. In her world, there was nothing to be gained and much to be lost by antagonizing the boy who’d brought about the Dark Lord’s ruin.

It wasn't until they were seated side-by-side at the Slytherin table, waiting for the first years to be sorted, that Adrian returned to the topic of their earlier conversation. He leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper. “So you're really okay with Harry Potter being here? No plans to make him your mortal enemy or something?”

Cassandra whispered back, “My parents could’ve done what most other families did after the war ended, and lied about their true allegiances to save their necks. Instead, they opted to go down with the sinking ship. That was their choice, not Harry Potter’s. So, no mortal enemies for me.” She took notice of the flicker of relief in Adrian’s eyes. 

Cassandra's attention wavered through the Sorting Ceremony, only snapping back into focus when Professor McGonagall's voice cut through the murmurs of the Great Hall, announcing a name that sent a chill down her spine.

"Longbottom, Neville!"

Her gaze fixated on the round-faced young wizard who tripped his way towards the stool. She compelled herself to remain still and show no emotion. It wasn’t her fault, she reminded herself, that this boy’s parents had been taken from him. The Sorting Hat seemed to ponder over Neville Longbottom for an excruciatingly long time. When he was finally declared a Gryffindor, Cassandra couldn’t suppress the faint sigh of relief that escaped her: different years, different houses. 

Her attention flickered back to the sorting when a ripple of laughter spread through the Hall. Longbottom was jogging back to the stool, having forgotten to leave the Sorting Hat behind. Cassandra couldn’t help but remark on how awkward he seemed. Not my fault, not my responsibility, she repeated in her head like a mantra.

The rest of the ceremony blurred into the background for her. She clapped politely when Draco was sorted into Slytherin, and when Harry Potter was declared a Gryffindor. No big surprises there. 

That night, nestled in her dorm bed, Cassandra tried to quiet the storm of thoughts swirling in her mind. She told herself that it didn’t matter that the Boy-Who-Lived was in the castle. Or that she might cross paths at any time with Neville Longbottom, whose life had been so terribly and irrevocably altered by her family’s actions. She’d already managed two years at Hogwarts without any major disasters or life-changing events — she could manage another one.

Chapter Text

Cassandra strolled towards the Care of Magical Creatures class, relishing the newfound sense of liberation she’d found since Harry Potter had started his first year at Hogwarts. She was old news. Now, Potter was the focus of everyone’s attention. It was as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. 

“It’s brilliant, Klaus!” she said to her raven. The bird cawed in response, its sharp eyes scanning their surroundings as it perched comfortably on her shoulders.  “No one’s paying me any mind. Not the first-years, not the professors, not even the Headmaster.”

Klaus tilted his head, seemingly agreeing with the sentiment. He wasn’t a fan of Dumbledore’s scrutinizing looks either. 

Professor Silvanus Kettleburn’s Care of Magical Creatures classroom occupied the building that had once been Hogwarts’ Hipprogriff stables. Cassandra was both excited and apprehensive about her first lesson with Professor Kettleburn. Her interest in his subject was deeply personal — her grandfather, a master potioneer, had always championed the idea of sourcing one’s potion ingredients. After assuming her guardianship, he transformed the Lestrange estate into a haven for magical plants and creatures. The aviary, ponds and stables were expanded and modernized, sprawling greenhouses were erected, and a variety of magical creatures were introduced into the surrounding woods.

Growing up in this environment, Cassandra had developed a hands-on approach to caring for plants and creatures. She had diligently assisted the house-elves in their duties from a young age, absorbing as much knowledge as she could. She might not have had a regular childhood, but her grandfather had done his best to give her a good one.  

A sharp croak from Klaus jarred her from her thoughts, prompting her to look around. Her eyes landed on the Weasley twins, Lee Jordan, and Angelina Johnson, who seemed to be the targets of her familiar’s warning. She had forgotten that this was a joint Slytherin-Gryffindor elective. At least she could find comfort in the knowledge that her Potions classes were going to be shared with Ravenclaw this year; Professor Snape became even more unpleasant than usual around Gryffindors. 

“No need to worry, boys,” said Cassandra, addressing the Weasley twins. “Klaus won’t bother you, unless you provoke him, or I command it.” In good spirits, she gave one of the twins a playful wink, eliciting wide grins from both. Angelina Johnson, however, scowled. 

“Rest assured, Lestrange, we have no plans to break our truce with dear old Klaus for the moment,” said one of the twins, possibly George.

“Absolutely,” the other, likely Fred, added. “We can’t have him mangling us again, no matter how much fun he had the last time. The witches of Hogwarts might riot if our handsome faces are scarred.”

“Ah!” exclaimed Professor Kettleburn boisterously, startling the group of students and eliciting an irritated croak from Klaus. “But what are scars but the evidence of a life well-lived, my dears!”

Cassandra smiled. If that was true, then Professor Kettleburn, with only one eye, half an arm and one leg, must’ve lived the greatest life out of any wizard in Britain. 

“Come in, come in!” he beckoned them into the classroom. Turning to Cassandra, he said, “Your familiar is most welcome here, dear girl, but I do hope you’ll keep him from snacking on the Flobberworms I have stored in the back. They’re essential for next week’s lesson.”

“Yes, sir,” said Cassandra, before addressing her raven. “Did you hear that? No Flobberworms for you. Be good, and you’ll get cheese at dinner.”

Klaus bobbed his head at her terms. 

Finding a spot at the front beside Cassius Warrington, a fellow Slytherin and last year’s reserve chaser for their Quidditch team, Cassandra settled into her seat. Warrington appeared pleased by her presence, straightening up as she took her place beside him.

“Welcome, young wizards and witches, to the fascinating world of magical creatures!” Professor Kettleburn shouted to the class. “This course, first introduced by Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in 1927, aims to educate you on how to feed, care, breed and ethically handle a diverse array of magical creatures.

Cassandra swiftly pulled out parchment and a self-inking quill from her bag, diligently jotting down notes. 

“Who among you can give me an example of a magical creature you’ve encountered in your daily life?” Kettleburn inquired.

One of the Weasley twins spoke up, “Gnomes.”

Another Gryffindor suggested, “Kneazles.”

From the Slytherin side, a voice added, “House-elves.”

“Very good, very good,” Professor Kettleburn acknowledged with a nod. “Two points to Gryffindor and one to Slytherin. Now, who can tell me what a gnome has in common with a kneazle, that it doesn’t have with a house-elf?

Noticing the hesitation among her classmates, Cassandra raised her hand. “Gnomes and kneazles are classified as beasts, whereas house-elves are categorized as beings.”

“Very good…”

“Cassandra Lestrange,” she stated, bracing for any reaction her surname might provoke. Fortunately, the professor’s expression remained unchanged.

“Five points to Slytherin for Miss Lestrange’s answer,” said Professor Kettleburn. “In 1811, Minister Grogan Stump settled a long and troubled debate by defining Beings as ‘ any creature that has sufficient intelligence to understand the laws of the magical community and to bear part of the responsibility in shaping those laws’. Apart from Beings, the Ministry has recognized two other categories of magical creatures: Beasts and Spirits. In this course, we’ll focus on Beasts. Spirits and Beings will be covered in either History of Magic or Defense Against the Dark Arts, depending on the creature." 

He paused, allowing the students to take notes. “Now, according to Stump's classification, Beasts can be loosely defined as ‘ magical creatures that do not have sufficient intelligence to understand the laws of the magic community or help bear part of the responsibility of shaping those laws’ — essentially, non-sapient creatures. However, there are notable exceptions. Intelligent creatures like centaurs and merpeople, who live in complex societies, opted to be classified as Beasts. They did so to distance themselves from Beings like hags and vampires. On the other hand, creatures like acromantulas, manticores, and sphinxes, although capable of intelligent speech, are classified as Beasts due to their extremely aggressive and dangerous nature.”

Kettleburn chuckled, lifting his prosthetic arm. “A word of advice — never call a Sphinx a Beast to her face. A friend of mine did that, and I ended up losing three fingers saving him. Not that you can tell now,” he said, waving his magically replaced hand, receiving a mixture of laughter and uneasy smiles from the class. 

"We've gone over what qualifies a magical creature as a Beast, according to Stump's Classification. There's another crucial way magical creatures are categorized. This system is based on danger level to humans, using a scale of one to five Xs. 

“Category X creatures, such as horklumps and flobberworms, are boring and completely harmless. We’ll be covering them in next week’s class. Category XX creatures are safe and can even be domesticated, like owls and frogs.

“Now, Category XXX creatures,” he continued enthusiastically, “should be manageable for competent wizards, though I've seen plenty of overconfident wizards struggle with a few stubborn pixies. Ha! To avoid any mishaps, the Ministry regulates ownership of some XXX creatures. So, if you dream of owning a fwooper or a kneazle next term, a visit to the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures for a licence will be necessary.”

Kettleburn’s tone turned more serious. “Now, Category XXXX is where things get tricky. These creatures are dangerous and require specialized knowledge. Only trained wizards or those under their supervision should handle them. This category also includes endangered creatures or those simply too difficult to capture, like the golden snidget, rather than inherently dangerous.

“Category XXXXX creatures are notorious wizard killers and impossible to tame. Can anyone name an example?” the professor challenged the class. 

Warrington piped up from his seat. “Nundu?” 

“Yes, very good! Three points to Slytherin for…”

“Cassius Warrington.”

Kettleburn nodded and opened the question back up. “Any other guesses?” he asked.

"Dementors?" Angelina Johnson chimed in.

“Good guess. Dementors are indeed known wizard killers. One point to Gryffindor for the use of logic. However, they’re not considered magical creatures. Dementors fall under the classification of ‘non-being’, though personally, I’d classify them as really bloody scary,” said Kettleburn.

By the end of class, Cassandra was certain she'd chosen her electives wisely. Kettleburn was a great teacher, and the material was very interesting. She was also taking Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, both valuable for understanding and mastering old rituals — now almost exclusively practised by traditional pure-blood families and passed down through generations.

As they exited the classroom and headed back to the castle, Cassandra praised Klaus. “You were very good,” she said, shifting him from her shoulder to her forearm. “You must be bored by now. Go fly around the Forest until dinner. I'll save you some cheese." She mimicked the preening ritual ravens used to express affection, running her nose through his feathers. Klaus mirrored the gesture with a gentle pass of his beak through her hair, then soared away.

The next morning, Adrian sat opposite Cassandra at breakfast, while Klaus perched regally on her head, talons lightly gripping her scalp. The raven occasionally dipped down to eat pieces of bacon she held up. Cassandra maintained perfect posture, head held high as she ate to avoid dislodging him. If Mrs Monterey, the uptight etiquette tutor from her childhood, ever got wind of this posture-correcting trick, little girls all over Great Britain would soon be sporting birds of prey on their heads during elaborate pretend-meals.

“Do you have any idea how creepy you look?” Adrian quipped as she savoured another spoonful of cinnamon-spiced porridge.

A sharp voice from down the table cut through their conversation. “Mind how you talk to your betters, Pucey,” her little cousin Draco intervened. 

Cassandra whipped her head around, glaring at the young boy. “Thank you, Draco,” she said curtly, “but I can handle myself just fine. Don't presume to intrude on my conversations.”

As if echoing her sentiment, Klaus let out a harsh caw from her head. Draco flushed crimson and turned back to his friends without another word. 

Cassandra scowled at Adrian, mouthing, “See what you did?”

Adrian simply rolled his eyes. “Sorry,” he offered insincerely. 

“No one doubts your ability to hold your own, Lestrange,” someone spoke up from near Adrian. It was Cassius Warrington, the boy from Care of Magical Creatures. “But for what it's worth, I think the raven suits you. He was very well-behaved in class yesterday.”

Cassandra looked at him, surprised. Although Cassius had been sitting close to Adrian, she hadn't noticed him until this moment. A faint blush dusted his cheeks as he held her gaze. In their two years of shared classes, their interactions had been minimal, mostly during Quidditch practice or the rare occasion he subbed for an injured Chaser. He was good-looking, clean-cut, and had never asked stupid questions about her family. There was no harm in acknowledging his compliment.

“Thank you, Cassius,” she replied finally. He offered a small nod before returning to his breakfast.

Adrian raised an eyebrow speculatively. This time, she was the one who rolled her eyes.

“So, what else do you have today?” said Cassandra.

“Divination with Hufflepuff,” said Adrian. 

“What are you taking Divination for?” she scoffed. “Unless you're a Seer, it’s useless. And considering you haven't won a single Quidditch bet in two years, we both know that's not the case.”

Beyond their annual Defense Against the Dark Arts wager, students also gambled on everything from individual Quidditch matches to the House Cup winner. The latter involved guessing which House would win and by how many points. If Quidditch was the official Hogwarts pastime, gambling was the unofficial one.

Adrian shrugged. “It's an easy O.W.L.,” he said. “I need as many as I can get, and there’s no way I’m touching bloody Arithmancy or Ancient Runes.”

Cassandra snorted. Easy O.W.L. or not, Divination was still rubbish. Glancing at the Daily Prophet, she pointed at the first-page headline. “Ask your teacher if they can divine who broke into Gringotts,” she suggested. “Bet the goblins would pay a pretty galleon for that answer.”

Adrian's curiosity was piqued. “What do you think they were after?” 

“Not gold,” she replied. “Plenty of easier places to hit for that. The bank sent a letter to everyone with a vault, assuring that nothing was missing and promising eternal vengeance. My guess is some one-of-a-kind heirloom. I know I wouldn't risk my neck storming Gringotts for anything I could get elsewhere. Another question for your tea leaves, I suppose.”

Adrian ignored her barb. “What about you? Anything today?” 

By a stroke of luck, Slytherin third-years had all their core classes crammed between Monday and Thursday, leaving Fridays gloriously free — except for electives.

“Nothing. No Friday classes for me this year. The same would be true for you if you were taking Arithmancy and Ancient Runes with me, instead of Divination.”

Adrian responded with a middle finger, earning a laugh. “Alright, alright, see you later, Lestrange. I gotta head off to class.” 

The rest of the day unfolded in a familiar pattern: finishing assignments, bickering with Adrian at lunch, and enduring the interminable meditation exercises that were part of the Occlumency training her grandfather had thrust upon her the summer before her first year at Hogwarts. Finally, Cassandra retreated to her dorm, eager for a visit from her most favourite companion — the one constant presence in her life since she was born. 

“Mimi!” she called out, drawing the curtains around her bed. A loud crack filled the air as the house-elf materialized before her.

“Oh, Mistress!” Mimi cried, launching herself at Cassandra for a hug. “Mimi missed her Mistress Cassandra so much! Mimi is taking care of all her Mistress's plants and creatures just like she was told, but she misses taking care of her Mistress most of all."

"I missed you too, Mimi,” said Cassandra. “Could you silence the area around the canopy? You mustn’t be caught here, remember?”

Mimi did as instructed and settled onto the bed for a chat. After catching each other up on their weeks, Cassandra allowed Mimi to braid and magically pin her hair in an elaborate updo, much to the elf’s satisfaction. Then, she presented Mimi with a small list. 

“Could you please fetch these items from the house, Mimi? It shouldn’t take more than an hour, so I'll wait here for you," said Cassandra.

The elf's eyes welled up as she scanned the list. She threw herself at Cassandra again, this time in tears. “Mistress Cassandra wants Mimi's special chocolate coconut cookies? Mimi knew her Mistress missed her too! Mimi will get everything on the list right now!" 

The house-elf vanished with another crack.

A few weeks into her first year, a wave of loneliness had washed over Cassandra. She had silently cried through the night, overwhelmed by homesickness and the hostility of some classmates. The next morning, bleary-eyed and suffering from a throbbing headache, she'd called out for Mimi in the same way she did at home, asking for a pain relief potion. When Mimi appeared by her bed, potion in hand, the two of them cried tears of joy at the discovery that, unlike wizards, house-elves could apparate in and out of Hogwarts. Since then, Cassandra had gotten in the habit of summoning Mimi a few times a week, asking her to perform small tasks.

Exactly an hour later, Mimi reappeared with Cassandra's requested items. After expressing her gratitude, Cassandra selected a few of them and headed to the Slytherin common room.

She approached a familiar form spread haphazardly on a leather couch. “Pucey,” she called, nudging the napping wizard with her knee. 

“Wha…?” Adrian mumbled, disoriented with sleep. 

“For you,” said Cassandra, dropping a box on his stomach. 

Adrian peeked inside, his eyes widening at the contents. “Are these Mimi's?” When Cassandra nodded, he pretended to swoon. “You magnificent witch. Have I told you how amazing you are lately? These are incredible,” he said with an entire cookie already in his mouth. 

Cassandra playfully nudged Adrian again before exiting the common room and venturing out of the dungeons. She headed towards the greenhouse that served as Professor Sprout's office. Knowing the professor only closed her door for student meetings, Cassandra waited patiently outside. Moments later, the office door opened, revealing Cedric Diggory, an extremely handsome Hufflepuff in her year that half of the witches at school seemed to be infatuated with. She watched him distractedly shove a book into his bag while holding his wand between his teeth. Bad wand discipline , she thought to herself. When his gaze landed on her, a broad smile illuminated his face. 

“Hey!” Diggory greeted warmly. Cassandra paused, unsure if the friendly gesture was directed at her. “I’m Cedric,” he offered, seemingly unfazed by her hesitation. “We have a few classes together.”

“Yes, of course. Hello. I’m Cassandra Lestrange.”

“Professor Sprout’s free if you want to see her,” said Diggory, moving to open the door for her. “We just finished up.”

“Right,” Cassandra replied awkwardly. “Thank you.”

“No problem at all,” he said with another smile. “It's nice to see you outside of class.”

Cassandra had no idea how to handle this conversation. Never had she experienced such… genuine friendliness from anyone outside her House. Or even inside, for that matter. When people weren’t hurling accusations or jinxes her way, they usually gave her a wide berth. 

“Sure, good to see you too,” she tried. “I should head in.”

“Of course. Goodbye, Cassandra,” Cedric Diggory replied as she entered the greenhouse. The unexpected friendly exchange lingered in her mind as she approached Professor Sprout, who looked up from her desk.

“Miss Lestrange! Come in, come in. What brings you by today?” the older witch greeted warmly.

“Hello, Professor,” said Cassandra. “I actually wanted to thank you for the Wiggentree branch you sent over the summer. It's taken root beautifully. Grandfather had been searching for a sapling forever, but they can be so hard to find.”

Professor Sprout chuckled. “Oh, don't worry about it, dear. I'm always happy to help young Herbology enthusiasts. Glad to hear the planting was a success! The bowtruckles were quite attached to that branch, you know. It took some sweet-talking and a few fairy eggs to convince them to part with it.” Her voice held a hint of amusement, suggesting a fondness for the creatures notorious for gouging out the eyes of anyone who threatened their home trees. Knowing Professor Sprout, that was probably true.

“Regardless,” Cassandra continued, placing two boxes on the table, “I brought you a small token of gratitude. I believe you’ll appreciate it.”

“Truly, you shouldn’t have,” said Professor Sprout, though a hint of curiosity flickered in her eyes. “But if one of those boxes contains what I suspect it might…”

Many Slytherins sent their favourite teachers birthday gifts, and Mimi's cookies had proven a hit with Professor Sprout. The professor opened the first box, revealing the familiar treats, and a smile spread across her face.

“Well, thank you. I’ll be enjoying these after dinner tonight.”

But the real prize was in the second box. When Professor Sprout opened it, a startled gasp escaped her lips. She covered her mouth with a gloved hand, eyes wide. “Miss Lestrange! These can’t be…”

“Niffler's Fancy seedlings” Cassandra confirmed with a genuine smile. “They are.” 

Professor Sprout had been always open-minded, supportive and fair towards Cassandra, even allowing her to help out in the greenhouses after classes for a needed distraction or a touch of home. Cassandra felt a true fondness for the older witch. 

“But these are incredibly rare!” exclaimed Sprout, clutching the box to her chest. 

“Yes, that's exactly why I chose them,” said Cassandra. “Grandfather’s been researching potential potion uses for Niffler's Fancy and had a shipment of seedlings delivered over the summer. I saved those for you.”

“Oh, this is such a thrill!” Professor Sprout cried. “I haven’t laid eyes on one of these since my own student days. The leaves look simply stunning once they grow, and the colour! This will be a perfect addition to my personal collection — and the Hufflepuff common room.”

“I'm glad you like them, Professor,” said Cassandra. “I should go. Thank you again, and have a lovely evening.”

“Thank you, dear girl. These are wonderful gifts. If you ever require any specific specimens for your greenhouse, just let me know.”

Cassandra gave the teacher a small nod and reached for the door. But as she opened it, a jolt of surprise coursed through her. Standing expectantly, waiting for his turn with Professor Sprout, was Neville Longbottom. The small, awkward boy clutched a copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi to his chest like a child might hold a favourite stuffed animal.  Their eyes met, and a tremor ran through Neville's entire body. Before Cassandra could utter a word, he took off running.

Chapter Text

The sun seeped through the tree leaves, dappling the canopy where Cassandra lay. Her brow furrowed as she unthinkingly pulled blades of grass from the dirt. Besides her, Adrian watched, his usual smirk replaced by a concerned frown. 

“Everything alright?” he asked. 

Cassandra barely flicked him a glance. “Just brilliant. Yeah.”

“You’re clearly in a mood,” said Adrian, lightly nudging her side. “I’ve been trying to wait it out, but it’s been two weeks.”

“Feel free to attach yourself to someone else’s side if I’m so unpleasant to be around,” Cassandra said with a scowl. Adrian’s pointed silence deflated her like a punctured balloon. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

“And bitchy.”

“And bitchy,” she agreed. 

“Whatever it is, you can tell me,” he said, delicately nudging her foot. “Your secrets are safe with me, and I’m only moderately judgmental.”

“You’re such a witch, Pucey, wanting to talk about feelings,” Cassandra teased. “Do you figure it’s from all those times your mother dressed you up as a girl when you were a baby?”

“I've no idea,” said Adrian, “But when my parents find out I'm queer, that's what I'm blaming it on.”

They both giggled.

After a moment, Cassandra let out a long, dramatic exhale. Adrian meant well, but opening up emotionally was supremely discomfiting to her. Wanting to give him something, she randomly picked one of the things that had been on her mind lately. “Cassius Warrington’s been getting on my nerves.” 

Adrian’s eyebrows raised with skepticism. “That's what's been bothering you?”

“That’s all you’re getting today. Take it or leave it.”

“Alright, alright,” Adrian conceded, turning his gaze to the sky. “Warrington it is. Go ahead.”

“He’s been all over me lately. And I get it, you know? He’s allowed his crush. We have ours, right? It shouldn’t bother me.”

“But it does.”

“Circe’s pigs, it does,” she groaned. “I preferred being invisible to boys.”

“Come now, Lestrange. You’ve never been invisible. Just scary and unapproachable. The solitary daughter of one of the most extremist families in our world. Your parents—”

“I know,” she said clippedly. “I know what my parents did.” 

“And so does everyone else in this school. So yes, it took guys like Warrington a few years to see beyond your last name, but they do now. Is that such a terrible thing?” 

“Things are changing,” she sighed. 

Adrian nodded. “They are.”

“You know, even Diggory is being nice to me.”

“Cedric Digory?”

“No, his father. Yes, Cedric. He keeps smiling at me in class, saying ‘Hi’ when we cross each other in the halls… The other day, I forgot to bring my gloves to Herbology and he offered me his.”

“I remember,” Adrian chuckled. “You told him to mind his business.”

“As you so aptly pointed out, I haven’t been in the best of moods lately.”

Adrian straightened up, his expression turning serious. “Not that this applies to Diggory, bless his Hufflepuff soul, but for some, especially in Slytherin, having Death Eater parents counts on your favour. I mean sure, their families might have denounced You-Know-Who after the war, but they didn’t exactly ditch their pure-blood beliefs, did they? You’re a Sacred Twenty-Eight heiress, Cassandra. Blood and breeding might not mean much to a bunch of scrawny eleven-year-olds, but we’re past that. The vultures will start circling soon enough.”

Cassandra bristled, her anger growing as Adrian’s words sunk in. He was right. Her mother had been engaged at seventeen and married the year after. If her grandfather were to insist on following tradition, she would either need to choose a husband or have one chosen for her before she was out of school. “I refuse,” she said. “I won’t marry someone whose family begged the Ministry for leniency with lies dripping from their lips. I’ve never once tried to defend my parents when I had their crimes rubbed on my face, but if there’s one thing to be said about them, is that they owned up to what they did. They were all the bloody way in. No lies about being threatened, blackmailed or Imperioused into following the Dark Lord when they were caught.” 

“That got them life in Azkaban,” Adrian said quietly. 

“Exactly where they and all their Death Eater friends belong,” she retorted. “That includes Draco’s father and Professor Snape. If people only knew the things they did, Adrian. I’ll never understand why the post-war government went for that reconciliatory crap. Sealed trials, blanket pardons? It makes no sense. Did you know I’ve read all the Death Eater trial transcripts? Grandfather insisted.”

“Snape…?”

“Death Eater. Didn’t even go to trial. Dumbledore vouched for him. And look at him now — he can barely be arsed to teach his subject and treats most students like dirt. The other night, Draco was going on about how Snape is openly hateful to Harry Potter and his friends, even Neville Longbottom. I wonder why he does this? At least my family is paying for their crimes. Meanwhile, wizards and witches who committed the same heinous acts, but lied about it, get to walk freely. To teach at this school.”

“It seems like this has been weighing on you,” said Adrian. 

“Maybe it has,” Cassandra said, pressing the palms of her hands hard against her cheeks. “I ran into Longbottom outside Sprout’s office. He took one look at me and nearly burst into tears. He ran away before I could think of something to say.” 

“Cassandra, listen,” Adrian said with a brief squeeze of her hand, “What your parents did to the Longbottoms is not on you. You were what, four, five years old?”

Sensing Cassandra’s turbulent emotional state, Klaus swooped down and landed on her leg. She stroked his feathers, trying to get herself in check. Even if they were far from the castle, near the Forbidden Forest’s edge, she was not going to have a meltdown where someone could see it. 

“I know,” she admitted. “It’s what I tell myself every time this starts eating at me. But Adrian… it’s hard to live with the consequences of my parents’ actions when the consequences are walking the same halls and getting bullied by my idiot cousin. 

“Sometimes I get a passing glimpse of that wreck of a boy, and it makes me want to throw myself from the Astronomy Tower.”

Adrian gave her a look of steely determination. He stood, brushed the grass off his trousers, and extended a hand. “Come on,” he said, pulling her up. “I have an idea.”

“What kind of idea?”

“The kind that will make you feel better, even if just for today,” he promised. Adrian’s schemes, Cassandra knew from experience, were always entertaining, even when they ended in disaster. She followed him back to the castle without protest. 

“Cozy little spot you have here, Lestrange,” one of the Weasley twins quipped as they squeezed into the cramped alcove where she and Adrian had been waiting.

“If we’re going to be this close together, you might as well call me by my first name,” she said, shooting a glare at the twin who had just elbowed her in the ribs.

“Sorry about that,” the boy mumbled apologetically. “So,” he said, “why are we here?”

“No one knows their way around the castle better than you two,” Adrian began.

The twins grinned. “You’re right about that.”

“We need a private spot for tonight. Somewhere we can make a racket without being noticed. Bigger than where we are now, obviously.”

The brothers shared a look. “Can’t believe two snakes are coming to us looking for a shagshack,” the twin closest to Cassandra mocked, leaning against the wall. “Honestly, it’s kind of gross.”

Most business deals in the wizarding world were done on reputation. Someone with real connections vouched for you, you proved you could deliver, and maybe next time you got a bigger slice of the pie. Standing between an ambitious, upstart wizard and financial success there would always be a member of pure-blood society, who got to decide whether this person’s dreams were worth the investment or not. 

The sun seeped through the tree leaves, dappling the canopy where Cassandra lay. Her brow furrowed as she unthinkingly pulled blades of grass from the dirt. Besides her, Adrian watched, his usual smirk replaced by a concerned frown. 

“Everything alright?” he asked. 

Cassandra barely flicked him a glance. “Just brilliant. Yeah.”

“You’re clearly in a mood,” said Adrian, lightly nudging her side. “I’ve been trying to wait it out, but it’s been two weeks.”

“Feel free to attach yourself to someone else’s side if I’m so unpleasant to be around,” Cassandra said with a scowl. Adrian’s pointed silence deflated her like a punctured balloon. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

“And bitchy.”

“And bitchy,” she agreed. 

“Whatever it is, you can tell me,” he said, delicately nudging her foot. “Your secrets are safe with me, and I’m only moderately judgmental.”

“You’re such a witch, Pucey, wanting to talk about feelings,” Cassandra teased. “Do you figure it’s from all those times your mother dressed you up as a girl when you were a baby?”

“I've no idea,” said Adrian, “But when my parents find out I'm queer, that's what I'm blaming it on.”

They both giggled.

After a moment, Cassandra let out a long, dramatic exhale. Adrian meant well, but opening up emotionally was supremely discomfiting to her. Wanting to give him something, she randomly picked one of the things that had been on her mind lately. “Cassius Warrington’s been getting on my nerves.” 

Adrian’s eyebrows raised with skepticism. “That's what's been bothering you?”

“That’s all you’re getting today. Take it or leave it.”

“Alright, alright,” Adrian conceded, turning his gaze to the sky. “Warrington it is. Go ahead.”

“He’s been all over me lately. And I get it, you know? He’s allowed his crush. We have ours, right? It shouldn’t bother me.”

“But it does.”

“Circe’s pigs, it does,” she groaned. “I preferred being invisible to boys.”

“Come now, Lestrange. You’ve never been invisible. Just scary and unapproachable. The solitary daughter of one of the most extremist families in our world. Your parents—”

“I know,” she said clippedly. “I know what my parents did.” 

“And so does everyone else in this school. So yes, it took guys like Warrington a few years to see beyond your last name, but they do now. Is that such a terrible thing?” 

“Things are changing,” she sighed. 

Adrian nodded. “They are.”

“You know, even Diggory is being nice to me.”

“Cedric Digory?”

“No, his father. Yes, Cedric. He keeps smiling at me in class, saying ‘Hi’ when we cross each other in the halls… The other day, I forgot to bring my gloves to Herbology and he offered me his.”

“I remember,” Adrian chuckled. “You told him to mind his business.”

“As you so aptly pointed out, I haven’t been in the best of moods lately.”

Adrian straightened up, his expression turning serious. “Not that this applies to Diggory, bless his Hufflepuff soul, but for some, especially in Slytherin, having Death Eater parents counts on your favour. I mean sure, their families might have denounced You-Know-Who after the war, but they didn’t exactly ditch their pure-blood beliefs, did they? You’re a Sacred Twenty-Eight heiress, Cassandra. Blood and breeding might not mean much to a bunch of scrawny eleven-year-olds, but we’re past that. The vultures will start circling soon enough.”

Cassandra bristled, her anger growing as Adrian’s words sunk in. He was right. Her mother had been engaged at seventeen and married the year after. If her grandfather were to insist on following tradition, she would either need to choose a husband or have one chosen for her before she was out of school. “I refuse,” she said. “I won’t marry someone whose family begged the Ministry for leniency with lies dripping from their lips. I’ve never once tried to defend my parents when I had their crimes rubbed on my face, but if there’s one thing to be said about them, is that they owned up to what they did. They were all the bloody way in. No lies about being threatened, blackmailed or Imperioused into following the Dark Lord when they were caught.” 

“That got them life in Azkaban,” Adrian said quietly. 

“Exactly where they and all their Death Eater friends belong,” she retorted. “That includes Draco’s father and Professor Snape. If people only knew the things they did, Adrian. I’ll never understand why the post-war government went for that reconciliatory crap. Sealed trials, blanket pardons? It makes no sense. Did you know I’ve read all the Death Eater trial transcripts? Grandfather insisted.”

“Snape…?”

“Death Eater. Didn’t even go to trial. Dumbledore vouched for him. And look at him now — he can barely be arsed to teach his subject and treats most students like dirt. The other night, Draco was going on about how Snape is openly hateful to Harry Potter and his friends, even Neville Longbottom. I wonder why he does this? At least my family is paying for their crimes. Meanwhile, wizards and witches who committed the same heinous acts, but lied about it, get to walk freely. To teach at this school.”

“It seems like this has been weighing on you,” said Adrian. 

“Maybe it has,” Cassandra said, pressing the palms of her hands hard against her cheeks. “I ran into Longbottom outside Sprout’s office. He took one look at me and nearly burst into tears. He ran away before I could think of something to say.” 

“Cassandra, listen,” Adrian said with a brief squeeze of her hand, “What your parents did to the Longbottoms is not on you. You were what, four, five years old?”

Sensing Cassandra’s turbulent emotional state, Klaus swooped down and landed on her leg. She stroked his feathers, trying to get herself in check. Even if they were far from the castle, near the Forbidden Forest’s edge, she was not going to have a meltdown where someone could see it. 

“I know,” she admitted. “It’s what I tell myself every time this starts eating at me. But Adrian… it’s hard to live with the consequences of my parents’ actions when the consequences are walking the same halls and getting bullied by my idiot cousin. 

“Sometimes I get a passing glimpse of that wreck of a boy, and it makes me want to throw myself from the Astronomy Tower.”

Adrian gave her a look of steely determination. He stood, brushed the grass off his trousers, and extended a hand. “Come on,” he said, pulling her up. “I have an idea.”

“What kind of idea?”

“The kind that will make you feel better, even if just for today,” he promised. Adrian’s schemes, Cassandra knew from experience, were always entertaining, even when they ended in disaster. She followed him back to the castle without protest. 

“Cozy little spot you have here, Lestrange,” one of the Weasley twins quipped as they squeezed into the cramped alcove where she and Adrian had been waiting.

“If we’re going to be this close together, you might as well call me by my first name,” she said, shooting a glare at the twin who had just elbowed her in the ribs.

“Sorry about that,” the boy mumbled apologetically. “So,” he said, “why are we here?”

“No one knows their way around the castle better than you two,” Adrian began.

The twins grinned. “You’re right about that.”

“We need a private spot for tonight. Somewhere we can make a racket without being noticed. Bigger than where we are now, obviously.”

The brothers shared a look. “Can’t believe two snakes are coming to us looking for a shagshack,” the twin closest to Cassandra mocked, leaning against the wall. “Honestly, it’s kind of gross.”

Most business deals in the wizarding world were done on reputation. Someone with real connections vouched for you, you proved you could deliver, and maybe next time you got a bigger slice of the pie. Standing between an ambitious, upstart wizard and financial success there would always be a member of pure-blood society, who got to decide whether this person’s dreams were worth the investment or not. 

Predictably, this arrangement created friction. When Cassandra was ten she’d watched an exotic creature dealer try to renege on a deal with her grandfather, saying he was short on the money he owed in their agreement, clearly not feeling the least bit bad about it. Cassandra had expected her grandfather to be upset, but he’d been furious in a way she’d never seen before, shockingly frightening. With a few drops of a potion mixed into a glass of scotch, her grandfather had placed the creature dealer under his control, and then ordered him to do whatever he must to come up with the money that same day.

“Unable as my pure-blood peers are to admit it, it’s not the lack of mixing that makes us powerful,” her grandfather had said as he put Cassandra to bed that night. “Cut me down and I’ll bleed just as red as any Muggle-born. What grants us our authority is the fear and respect our magical abilities command. You mustn’t allow anyone to make you look like a fool, Cassandra. That’s how entire lines die out.”

Now Cassandra looked at Weasley, lean and smooth-faced, a boy from a happy family who loved to play jokes, with a personality winsome enough to distract from the holes in his second-hand clothes. 

She took a step forward, closing the distance between them until they stood nose to nose, eyes locked with one another. She opted for crassness, knowing it would land. “If all I wanted was to fuck,” said Cassandra, making sure the word landed like a slap, “I could do it right here. Just like this.”

To emphasize her point, she pressed one knee against the wall, just barely nudging his leg. Cassandra had never allowed a boy to even kiss her, but she wasn’t stupid. She’d been told enough and had observed enough to understand that this, her sexuality, was a type of power. Not the type she cared for, not even close, but still something she had. And she wouldn’t allow anyone to use it to embarrass her like Weasley tried to with that mean little comment. 

Though their bodies remained apart, save for that single point of contact between her knee and his leg, they were so close that Cassandra felt it when Weasley shivered. He stared, speechless, until his brother cleared his throat loudly. “Right, right,” he stammered, eyes flickering between her and his twin. “Not looking for a place to do that, got it.”

Adrian cut in, offering some mercy. “Actually, she’s had a rough couple of weeks. We need a place to get sloshed and, well,” he gestured towards Cassandra, “let her blow off some steam.”

“I like to break things,” she shrugged, taking a casual step back. “It’s how I decompress.”

“You’ve got alcohol?” the Weasley facing Adrian perked up. “How’d you managed to sneak that in? Who bought it for you?”

“Why would we tell you that?” Cassandra scoffed. “I can't bribe you with alcohol if you can get it yourselves. Give us a place and you get a bottle of firewhisky."

“Two bottles.”

“One bottle of Blishen's or two of the off-brand stuff. Your choice.”

“Fine. One bottle of Blishen’s. But we’re going with you tonight.”

“Why?” she demanded.

“Because getting drunk and breaking stuff with you sounds like a tremendous time, Cassandra,” the wizard in front of her grinned. “I'm Fred, by the way. If we’re going to be this close together, you might as well call me by my first name.”

That night, after dinner, Cassandra found herself in the creepy confines of the Shrieking Shack with Adrian and the Weasley twins. Upon learning their destination, she'd darted back to her dorm and summoned Mimi, giving the house-elf a list of supplies to be delivered to the abandoned Hogsmeade house.

“Okay, Cassie,” Fred slurred drunkenly from the floor, where he was sprawled shirtless. Cassandra sat by his side, painstakingly drawing a giant Slytherin crest on his bare chest with permanent magical marker. “You’ve got to tell us how you got all this stuff in here.”

A tipsy giggle escaped her lips. “I don't have to tell you anything, Fred. And don't call me Cassie.”

“Can I call you Cassie?” asked Adrian, aiming an Exploding Snap card at the back of her head and wildly missing the throw.

“Only if I get to call you something equi-equally stupid,” said Cassandra. She turned to Adrian, who sat beside George Weasley. “What are you guys doing?”

Adrian swayed precariously. “We already broke everything there was to break. Great call bringing your bat, by the way.”

Cassandra bowed theatrically, accepting the compliment.

“We should play Exploding Snap,” suggested Adrian.

“Drunk Exploding Snap!” George roared with enthusiasm.

“Strip Exploding Snap!” exclaimed Fred, scrambling upright. Caught off guard, Cassandra instinctively grabbed his shoulder to avoid falling backwards. 

“Hey!” she protested.

“Sorry, Cassie,” he said. 

Cassandra realized their faces were alarmingly close. “Don’t even think about it, Fred Weasley,” she warned. 

Fred scoffed. “Who said I was thinking about kissing you?” he said, giving himself away. “I'm a Gryffindor. I can’t go around kissing Slytherin witches, no matter how pretty and mean they are.”

Cassandra laughed. She grabbed the firewhisky bottle for another swing, then passed it to Fred. “You like the meanness, do you?”

He shrugged. “I had no idea until today.”

Too inebriated to risk standing, Cassandra crawled on all fours, wincing as she noted the appraising gazes of both Weasleys trailing her backside. Reaching Adrian, she collapsed onto his lap, burying her face on her shoulder. Adrian, already halfway to unconsciousness, simply wrapped his arms around her and took a swig from his own firewhisky bottle. 

“I thought you weren't an item,” said George.

Adrian, cheeks flushed with alcohol, blurted out, “I'm gay. Don’t tell anyone or my folks will end me. Cassandra’s the only one who knows. Well, you two now too.”

“No worries, mate,” George said reassuringly.

“We won’t breathe a word,” echoed Fred. 

“Good,” said Cassandra from Adrian’s embrace. Her arms encircled his neck, while his head nestled against her chest. She was positive she could feel his drool pooling on her shirt. It was impressive how quickly Adrian could fall asleep when plastered. “Because if I find out you told anyone, I’ll make you regret it.”

George studied her for a few moments. “You mean it, don’t you? It’s not just an empty threat.”

“I don’t make those,” she said, her voice devoid of humour. “Adrian is important to me.”

Fred surprised her with a genuine smile. “I get that,” he said. “He's like family, right? Family looks out for each other. You're scary, Cassandra, but at least you use your powers for good.”

“Mostly,” said George. “She did have her bird attack us that once.”

“Oh no, he did that on his own. Klaus is a very smart bird.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, enjoying the pleasant buzz they were sharing.

“You’re very pretty,” Fred spoke after a while.

“I know.” 

“And you’re mean, but in a hot way,” he continued.

“I’m not going to kiss you.”

“It’s not about that — I’m trying to make a point. Draco Malfoy could have the fittest body and the prettiest face in the world, and I still wouldn't lift my wand if that little git was on fire,” said Fred. “You're a Slytherin, and your parents were… you know. So we weren’t exactly brimming with warmth towards you at first. But you always took our jokes in stride, and you didn’t even try to hex us when we, uh, borrowed your raven.”

“Which everyone said you would,” George chimed in.

“So that's it. You're not evil, you just kinda look it. It took us a while to figure that out,” Fred finished. “We can be friends if you want.”

“I'll think about it,” said Cassandra. “I do have a reputation as Death Eater spawn to maintain, you know.” She grinned, warmth filling her chest when the twins grinned back at her.

Chapter Text

At five-thirty in the morning, Cassandra and Adrian crept out of the castle and towards the empty area behind the Quidditch pitch.

"Tell me again why we need to do this at the buttcrack of dawn," Adrian yawned, trailing behind Cassandra.

"Arithmancy," said Cassandra patiently. "Performing a ritual at a mirror hour makes it so the magic and intent being channelled are amplified and reinforced twofold. I need the boost since I've never performed this ritual before. 06:06 am was the only time we could do this without risking detention."

"Fine," Adrian conceded. He pointed ahead. "There?"

Cassandra nodded. "Strip down, like we talked. You can keep your underpants on."

Andrian sighed and stretched out on the damp grass, his limbs forming a pentagram. Cassandra shed her robes and shoes, keeping only her nightgown. Slowly, she walked around Adrian, meticulously placing runes she'd carved from a fallen branch of bloodwood at the end of his four limbs, and above his head. She hoped that the properties of the magical plant, which was commonly used in blood-replenishing potions, would work harmoniously with the healing-focused runes she'd chosen.

"Why the nightgown?" said Adrian.

"Rune Magic draws power from the earth, the air, and everything around us," Cassandra explained. "The caster acts as a conduit, channelling the raw magic concentrated in the runes, and giving it purpose through intent. Ideally, I'd be naked, to avoid magic dispersion, but this is a school. And, I don't want to risk Filch seeing me naked."

"Filch seeing me naked — that's my Boggart, called it," Adrian chucked. "Fine, but can you at least cast a Warming Charm? It's freezing, and the grass is wet."

"Sorry, but that would interfere with the magic."

"Sometimes I hate being your friend," Adrian grumbled under his breath. Cassandra ignored him. She'd agreed to do Adrian's Herbology homework for the entire term in exchange for his help in this ritual — it was a fair trade as far as she was concerned.

"If I can handle the morning chill, so can you, princess."

She whistled for Klaus, who was perched on a nearby branch, and pictured in her mind what she needed from him. Minutes later, the raven swooped down from the skies and dropped a brown hare at her feet. With a quick Severing Charm, Cassandra cut off the hare's head, then drained its blood into a stone bowl. She dipped her fingers in the blood and used it to paint each rune crimson. Lastly, she kneeled by Adrian's side and traced a final rune onto his forehead, feeling him shiver beneath.

"Do you feel it?" she asked softly.

"I feel something. Like my skin is buzzing."

"That's the magic waiting to be directed."

After checking the time (it was 06:03), Cassandra spoke, "It's now or never. It's going to hurt, but hopefully not for very long. May I?"

Adrian nodded. Cassandra took a deep breath, pointed her wand at his body and said, "Diffindo."

Adrian screamed as a long and deep gash opened across his chest, squeezing his eyes shut when blood started pouring out of the wound. Cassandra launched into a soft chant, hands hovering over his torso. She channelled the magic pulsing from the glowing runes, visualizing Adrian's flesh mending. After a few minutes, a surge of what could only be described as satisfaction washed over her, coming from the runes. The ritual was successful.

When she opened her eyes, Cassandra expected to see only a fully recovered Adrian sprawled on the ground. Instead, she was surprised by the sight of a dark-haired girl standing before them, seemingly frozen in terror. As Cassandra opened her mouth to explain, the girl let out a bloodcurdling scream.

Hours later, Cassandra stood waiting for her punishment in Dumbledore's office, flanked by Professor Snape and Adrian. On the other side of the room, the screaming menace, a Ravenclaw Prefect named Penelope Clearwater, stood with her Head of House, Professor Flitwick, who glanced edgily at Cassandra from his low vantage point.

The headmaster, radiating serenity, addressed them, "Please, everyone, take a seat." They complied. "Miss Clearwater's account, along with those of Miss Lestrange and Mr Pucey, have been noted. Professor Snape and Madam Pomfrey have also given me their expert opinions about the events of this morning. Considering this body of evidence, I believe I have a fairly clear understanding of the events. Miss Lestrange, you were performing an experimental healing ritual, one employing Runic Magic, is that correct?"

"Yes, sir," said Cassandra.

Dumbledore turned to Adrian. "A ritual which you, Mr Pucey, volunteered for after being informed of all the steps involved?"

"Yes, sir," said Adrian.

"And how do you feel, Mr Pucey? Madam Pomfrey cleared you, but is there any lingering discomfort?"

"No, sir. I feel brilliant. Like I took a double dose of Pepper-up Potion."

Dumbledore smiled. "I believe that is Miss Lestrange's handiwork. Are you particularly drawn to healing magic, my dear?"

Cassandra fought the urge to narrow her eyes at the unfamiliar term of endearment. "I'm mainly interested in Rune Magic, sir. Professor Babbling assigned an essay on the Poetic Edda Runes. I theorized I could enhance a standard healing ritual by incorporating Life-Runes carved into bloodwood and activating them with sacrificial blood. This could allow me to transfer injuries from a wizard to the body of the animal sacrificed. Adrian volunteered as my test subject. The ritual worked."

"So it did," the headmaster conceded. "Unfortunately, Miss Clearwater stumbled upon you during her morning run. Unfamiliar with this magic, she was naturally frightened by what I imagine was a shocking sight. Is that correct, Miss Clearwater?"

"Y-yes, sir," the girl stammered. "There was blood everywhere… and a r-rabbit, all… There was a headless rabbit, split open… I couldn't tell if Pucey was alive, there was so much blood."

Professor Snape interjected harshly, "Madam Pomfrey confirmed Mr Pucey's perfect health upon arrival. Had Miss Clearwater not fallen into hysterics, she might've witnessed that herself. Instead, she ran into the Great Hall screaming that one of my students had murdered a boy."

"You can hardly fault the girl, Severus!" said Professor Flitwick. "That kind of magic…"

"Healing magic?" Snape countered with a raised eyebrow.

"But the rabbit!" Penelope insisted, her voice trembling. "You don't just kill an animal…"

Cassandra scoffed, crossing her arms. "Please. Have you stepped foot into a Potions classroom since you entered this school? We use animal parts as potion ingredients all the time — bat wings, dragon liver, rat spleen, you name it. Where do you think they come from?"

"Miss Lestrange," Professor Flitwick began to speak, but was again cut off by Snape.

"Miss Lestrange is correct. Students are instructed to purchase pre-prepared ingredients for practicality's sake, but if you think no animals have been harmed for the benefit of your magical education; then you, Miss Clearwater, are a fool."

Dumbledore's voice, calm and authoritative, cut through the bickering. "Severus, enough. Miss Clearwater reacted according to her understanding of the situation. And while Miss Lestrange's ingenuity and resourcefulness are commendable, unsupervised student experimentation cannot be allowed at Hogwarts. In the future, Miss Lestrange, I ask that you consult a teacher before testing your hypotheses.

"The ritual you performed this morning was a truly impressive and creative display of magic, but Mr Pucey could have been gravely harmed.

The headmaster surveyed the room. "Thankfully, no harm befell upon any of you. Thus, misunderstandings addressed, I see no need for punishment."

Despite Dumbledore's leniency, Cassandra's reputation took a terrible hit in the fallout of the incident. Penelope Clearwater's breakfast-time declaration ignited a wildfire of rumours. Cassandra was accused of everything from human sacrifice to necromancy, and any goodwill she'd earned over the years immediately vanished. As far as her peers were concerned, Cassandra Lestrange was her parents' daughter, and would one day share a cell with them. When a troll was found in the dungeons during the Halloween Feast, many accusatory stares were directed at her.

"What would I need a bloody troll for?" she had muttered to Adrian as they evacuated the Great Hall. "Flint is right over there."

In reaction to this shunning, Cassandra reverted to the self-disciplined, emotionally detached resolve and fellow-feeling that characterised her pure-blood upbringing. She refused to beg her classmates for understanding, or acceptance. Fear, at least, bred respect.

Weeks later, as she performed her daily Occlumency exercises in a private spot on the topmost level of the Astronomy Tower, a gangly figure plopped down beside her. It was Fred Weasley.

"There's my favourite necromancer."

Eyes closed, she replied, "What do you want?" Most of Cassandra's Occlumency practice involved clearing her mind and building a sensory barrier to shield the deeper levels of her consciousness. Her barrier was a dark, stormy ocean. She focused on vividly picturing the shocking iciness of the water sloshing against her skin, the smell of salt and the pungent zing of ozone that preceded a sea storm burning her nostrils, the frightening booming of thunder and inescapable sound of the rushing waves. Behind her eyelids, she saw the endless darkness of a starless night, a sky filled only with heavy clouds. The deeper a Legilimens tried to venture into her mind, the deeper they'd sink into the dark, frigid ocean protecting it. Cassandra hated being disturbed during these exercises, hence the secluded location. "How did you even find me?"

"Just because we're friends now, that doesn't mean you get to know all my secrets, Cassie," said Fred with a teasing lilt.

A flicker of disbelief crossed her face as she opened her eyes. "You consider us friends? That's quite surprising, considering you haven't spoken to me in a month."

Fred winced, caught off-guard. "I, uh…"

"Perhaps we're the fair-weather kind, yes?" Cassandra offered. "So, what do you want?"

"I'm sorry. About the — yeah. I'm sorry?"

"It's alright," she shrugged dismissively

"Really?" he asked, unsure.

"Why wouldn't it be?" said Cassandra, insincerely.

Fred, oblivious, grinned. "Great! So, how's it going?"

"Fine."

"Care to elaborate on that?" he pressed.

"Not particularly."

With a huff, Fred got up to his feet. "Fine. If you're gonna be like this, you can go back to… napping upright, or whatever it is you were doing. But let it be known, I was trying to have a conversation. You were the one ignoring me, woman!"

"I wasn't napping upright, I was plotting out how to eliminate all the Muggle-borns from Hogwarts."

Fred took a step back. "You were?"

"Of course not, you absolute sock. Though, considering the rumours, who knows? I'm a Dark witch, just like my parents, haven't you heard?"

Fred scratched his head sheepishly. "Actually, that's kind of why I'm here. Penelope Clearwater, the witch who—"

"Screamed to the entire Great Hall that I'd murdered Adrian? I know who she is," Cassandra interrupted.

"Right, that one. Well, she's friends with my brother Percy, and she, uh, wants to apologise."

"Now? It's been weeks."

"Apparently, she can't leave the castle without being followed by a flock of ravens," Fred explained. "They haven't attacked her, but they keep, and I quote 'following her and croaking ominously'. She thinks you might have something to do with that because of Klaus."

A soft giggle bubbled up from Cassandra's throat, barely audible at first. Then, another, and another, each one building on the last until she threw her head back, surrendering to the hilarity, and let out an unrestrained cackle that echoed through the tower. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision but doing nothing to quell her mirth.

"Tell me if I understand this correctly," she managed to wheeze, turning to Fred, "Okay, this is good. The girl who single-handedly turned the school against me after I tried for years to erase the stain of my family name wants to apologise. Not because she feels bad, but because she can't stand being followed by a few corvids?"

"Yes?" Fred tried, sending her into another fit of laughter. "She's Muggle-born. The animal sacrifice thing freaked her out pretty badly. They're not used to that stuff."

Wiping a tear from her eye, Cassandra grew serious, catching her breath. "Did you know why Rune Magic fell out of favour and essentially died out in Britain?"

Fred shook his head.

"Christianism. Which Wizards took no part in until we started integrating. Muggle-borns like Clearwater come into our world, our spaces, and demand we stop practising magic they don't find acceptable."

"It's their world too!" Fred protested.

"I'm not the one telling her what kind of magic she can or can't practice! Just because I used an animal in a ritual, I'm evil? That hare felt no pain. Klaus brought it to me alive, and I killed it with a Severing Charm. It's a quicker death than it would have had in the wild.

"As a third-year, I performed advanced healing magic most wizards wouldn't manage without years of Healer training. And the truth is, that magic isn't beyond an average wizard or witch. With proper instruction, many could do it. But that knowledge is inaccessible thanks to witches like Penelope Clearwater."

"I get your frustration," said Fred, "but there are potions and spells for that now."

"What if you're stuck somewhere with no access to healing potions?" Cassandra countered. "George is bleeding out. What do you do? We don't learn advanced healing spells at school."

"Maybe Apparition?" Fred offered.

"Using side-along Apparition to transport an injured person almost always results in their deadly spinching. Do you want to know what would probably happen? You'd just… watch George die."

"Don't say that."

"It's the truth," Cassandra shrugged. "You don't have the knowledge you'd need in that situation. You'd be helpless. Not because you're an unskilled wizard, but because this knowledge has been kept from you. I doubt Professor Babbling even practices Rune Magic, and she teaches the closest subject we have to it. It's the most ancient, most powerful magical discipline we have access to, and no one bothers studying it anymore."

"You do," said Fred.

"Yes, I do. I choose to explore the knowledge that's been passed down through generations of my family."

"Your family's done a lot of harm."

"And your family is dirt-poor. If we're just pointing out things the other is ashamed of," Cassandra deadpanned. "Tell Penelope Clearwater I don't want her self-serving apology. She doesn't mean it, and frankly, I have nothing to gain by making her life easier."

Fred sighed, then chuckled helplessly. "You're a real handful, Cassie, you know that? But somehow, I still like you."

Chapter Text

The first Quidditch match of the season had come and gone. On a freezing cold Sunday morning, Cassandra had had the pleasure of hitting Katie Bell, a Gryffindor chaser who'd asked if she thought they had a Quidditch league in Azkaban, in the back of the head with a perfectly-aimed bludger, and was having a lot of fun pelting the bludgers the Weasley twins kept directing at her right back at them, until Harry Potter, who somehow had managed to become Gryffindor's seeker despite being a first year, had started bucking on his broom, which clearly had been tampered with by someone, probably from her team. The thought angered her. If they were going to play, why not try to win with pure skill? The team certainly had it, after all they had won the Cup every single year she'd been at Hogwarts. The boy-who-lived had managed to catch the snitch anyways, almost swallowing the thing in a play Cassandra had never seen in person before. She'd be annoyed at him if it wasn't for her team's attempt at cheating.

"I CAN'T FUCKING BELIEVE IT!" Flint howled in the locker room.

"Will you stop screaming, Flint!" She said, throwing a stinging hex her Captain's way to get his attention. He jumped and scowled at her, but stopped yelling. "We were playing a good game until Potter caught the snitch. We were sixty-twenty. Higgs is going to need a better broom if he's going to keep up with a Nimbus Two Thousand, but our play was good."

"Not good enough!" Flint answered angrily.

"No, not good enough. So we train harder, and do better next time. But enough with the bloody screaming," Cassandra said.

"I'm with Lestrange," Adrian said from behind her.

"Shut up, Pucey!" The captain replied angrily. Adrian frowned, and Cassandra rolled her eyes at him. Of course Flint wouldn't yell at her to shut up. He probably thought she'd use him in a ritual as a human sacrifice if he did it. Having a reputation as a Dark witch had its perks.

"Now, there's something I believe needs to be addressed," Cassandra said to the entire locker room. "Someone jinxed Potter's broom." When her teammates started yelling in protest, she raised her wand. They immediately stopped. "I'm not saying it was one of us. I'm not saying it wasn't one of us. What I'm saying is, as much as the thought of getting one over the boy-who-lived might be enjoyable, if the person who did this is caught, and they suspect it was done to influence the outcome of the match, our team could be disqualified from the entire season. Do we want that, Flint?" She asked the Captain, who had turned a ghostly shade of white at the idea.

"IF I FIND OUT ONE OF YOU IDIOTS-"

Cassandra smiled to herself. There, she'd done her part.

With the end of November came the anniversary of the day Cassandra had last seen her parents. It was a date she dreaded, but couldn't help marking on her calendar. She remembered vividly the warning her mother had given her that day to never trust a traitor, the way she had kissed the top of her head before saying goodbye; her father, waving to her as he apparated. She remembered the fear she felt on the days that followed, when Mimi had tried to comfort her as Ministry wizards tried to blast away the charm set up by her family, which had prevented anyone uninvited from entering the Lestrange property.

That afternoon, Cassandra decided to take a walk along the edge of the Forbidden Forest. She often found herself drawn to the location, and had to resist the impulse to delve into the woods. She was thinking about Klaus, who had wandered into the forest to hunt, which is why, she told herself later, she was startled by Cedric Diggory, possibly the least threatening person in Hogwarts, behind the house-elves and the Sorting Hat, who didn't even qualify as people.

"By Merlin, Cedric!" She said, hand to her heart. "You almost scared my ghost right out of me."

Cassandra stopped for a moment to wonder when she'd started to think of the wizard as Cedric instead of Diggory. She wasn't on a first name basis with many people. Maybe when she told him off for offering to lend her his dragonhide gloves in Herbology, and he had only nodded in return, not affected by her rudeness at all. Not many people weren't scared of her these days. It was nice knowing there was someone who didn't think she would murder them for approaching her. That was a perfect word to describe Cedric Diggory, Cassandra thought, 'nice'. Nice and handsome.

"I'm so sorry," he said, although she could tell he was trying his best not to laugh at her reaction. At his poor attempt of looking contrite, Cassandra startled giggling. He laughed with her.

"I didn't know it was possible for someone to jump that high without a broom," Cedric said.

"Oh, do shut up," Cassandra said, no heat behind the words. She started walking, and Cedric walked by her side. "Do you make it a habit of going around scaring unsuspecting witches, Diggory?"

"No, I don't. I'm pretty sure my mother would hex me if she found out her son was doing something like that. And please, call me Cedric," he said.

"I assure you my hexing would be far worse than your mother's, Cedric. Unlike her, I have no personal stake in your continued well-being," Cassandra said, and watched him take her words in from the corner of her eye. His mouth curved in a small smile. He didn't seem scared by her threats, he seemed... fond. Cassandra's face heated. Was she blushing? She had no memory of ever blushing, in her life. She couldn't believe she was blushing over Cedric Diggory.

"I have no doubt of that," the wizard said, interrupting her thoughts. "But I swear on my magic, I had no intention of scaring you."

"I believe you," Cassandra said. For some reason, it wasn't hard to.

"Good," Cedric replied. "I've been wanting to talk to you for a while. I wanted to know if you're alright."

"If I'm alright?" Cassandra repeated. "Yes, of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

"I looked up the ritual you were performing that day," Cedric said, looking ahead. Cassandra stared at his profile as he spoke. He was holding his hands behind his back, as if to stop himself from fidgeting. "Based on what Clearwater described. It took me a while, because I had no familiarity with rune magic outside of what Professor Babbling teaches in her class, but I found a description of something similar to it in a book called 'A Handbook of Armanen Runic Wisdom'".

"Yes, that's where I got the idea from," Cassandra said. Cedric nodded.

"There's nothing dark about it. It's a healing ritual," he said.

"Yes. I don't make it a habit of practicing dark magic. Although my family's definition of dark magic is probably a lot more flexible than most people's," she said with a smile, although there was no humor behind it.

"I know you don't," Cedric said firmly. "Practice dark magic, that is."

"You know that?" Cassandra asked, her eyebrows raised. This time, it was Cedric who blushed.

"I suppose I can't know that for a fact, but I believe that you don't. You know, Professor Sprout really likes you," he said.

"She does?" Cassandra asked. Cedric nodded.

"She talks about you sometimes. She told me you and your grandfather grow a lot of rare plants that even she doesn't. That you're good with them," the wizard continued.

"Yes, my grandfather is a potion-maker," she explained. "He believes the only way to guarantee a potion's quality is to harvest the ingredients yourself. He taught me everything I know."

"Professor Sprout doesn't like a lot of people," Cedric said. "She likes plants, and taking care of plants, and talking about plants, but that's about it. She's polite to everyone, of course, but for her to actually like someone enough to talk about them, it takes something special. A gentleness that makes you good at nurturing other living things." Cedric said.

"I don't think anyone who's ever met me would describe me as gentle," Cassandra replied.

"I don't think most people give you any reason to be gentle with them," Cedric said. "They're certainly not gentle with you."

At that, Cassandra stopped walking. She turned towards Cedric, who had a fierce look in his eyes.

"I see you. The way you are with your raven. He's not your pet, or at least he's not like any pet I've ever seen. He anticipates your needs. He reacts to your moods. He holds grudges against people who are rude you. He loves you, because you love him. You're an aggressive player, but you have never fouled anyone during a Quidditch match. When we were handling Mandrakes in Herbology last year, whenever you took your plant out of the soil and it started crying, you sang to it. I couldn't hear it, but I saw you," Cedric said.

"It was a baby," Cassandra said defensively.

"Exactly. You felt bad for a plant because it was a baby and it was scared, so you soothed it. You're not a bad person. But everyone treats you like you are," the wizard said, still looking her in the eyes. Cassandra crossed her arms in front of her chest. All of that was true, but she had never expected anyone to notice. Or to care. She had no idea what to say. As if sensing her discomfort, Cedric's eyes softened.

"I can't imagine how hard it must be, having to carry the weight of what your family did on your shoulders," he said softly. Cassandra closed her eyes. She was not going to cry. No one had ever said those words to her. Some had vaguely expressed the sentiment, but never said the actual words. They hit her harder than she thought they would. She had grown up knowing there was no fairness in the world, so she had no expectation of ever receiving any acknowledgement for enduring the lack of it in her own life. Receiving that acknowledgment, even if from someone she rarely talked to, was as painful as it was cathartic.

"Why are you saying all of this?" She asked weakly without opening her eyes. She felt Cedric putting his warm hand on her arm, and heard him sighing deeply.

"Because I-"

But before Cedric could finish speaking, Cassandra heard a loud, piercing croak she'd recognize anywhere. She looked at the sky and saw Klaus flying in their direction, quickly and with purpose. She extended her arm out to give him a place to land.

"Hey, pretty boy," she said to Klaus, caressing his head with a finger. "What's going on? You sound scared." In that moment, Cassandra noticed a silver-blue, tick substance coated Klaus' talons. Her stomach flinched. She ran her finger over the bird's talons and brought it to her nose. As she feared, it smelled sweet.

"What's wrong?" Cedric asked anxiously, reading her face.

"There's an injured unicorn somewhere in the Forbidden Forest. Klaus came to warn me. I have to go."

She turned to run into the woods, but was stopped by Cedric's arm over her middle.

"You can't go in there!" He said urgently. "You could get hurt. There are all sorts of creatures in the forest."

"I'm aware of that, Diggory," Cassandra replied angrily, shoving his arm away from her. "One of those creatures is hurt, and needs care. Unless you want to get stunned, get out of my way."

The wizard looked at her for a moment, then nodded. "All right, I'm coming with you."

But Cassandra had started running even before Cedric ended his sentence. Klaus flew ahead of her, showing her the way to the injured animal. There weren't many creatures capable of killing a unicorn. They were so quick, they could outrun most predators, and creatures of such powerful light magic that even the darkest of beasts tended to be averse to killing them. Her grandfather had bought a golden unicorn foal when she was eight, and when the animal had let her pet it, she'd felt such a rush of purity she'd broken down in tears. The idea of one of those creatures hurt and bleeding alone in the Forbidden Forest was enough to make her run quicker. She jumped over twisted roots and fallen branches.

Deep into the dense woods, Klaus came to a halt, landing on a tall tree branch. Cassandra looked around carefully, and eventually spotted the shocking bright white of an unicorn's coat against the darkness of the forest ground. The animal was making pitiful, painful sounding noises that made her stomach clench. She heard a shocked gasp behind her.

"That's-"

"Shhh," she whispered to Cedric. "Stay back. They don't trust males. I'm going to see what's wrong."

Cassandra undid the clasp of her outer robe and dropped it to the forest ground. She walked slowly and steadily towards the injured creature. When it saw her, it bucked back, crying out. "It's alright," she said softly, putting her hands up and approaching it even more carefully. "I'm not going to hurt you, I promise. I'm not going to hurt you." She kneeled by the animal's head and slowly pet its face. The animal shivered and relaxed, as if relieved by the lack of violence in her touch.

"What's wrong with it?" Cedric whispered to her from where he stood. She lifted her head, and realized she was crying.

"Something cut its throat," she answered quietly, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. "See?" She pointed to an enormous gash going from the animal's neck to its ribs. She kept petting its side delicately, trying to bring it some comfort without causing pain. "It's bleeding out."

"Is there - what do we do?" Cedric asked. His eyes were red, and a tear was making its way down his face. Cassandra closed her eyes, thinking.

"Go get Kettleburn," she said decisively. "He's going to know what to do. Start yelling for him as soon as you get to the edge of the Forest. Use an Amplifying charm on your voice if you have to."

"I shouldn't leave you alone," Cedric replied. "Whatever did this…"

"Is long gone. Go. Klaus will protect me," Cassandra answered. Cedric wiped the tears from his face and took off running on the direction they'd come from. Cassandra mirrored his action and wiped her own face with her sleeve. There wasn't really any time to get Professor Kettleburn, or anything he'd be able to do once he got to them. Healing charms and potions created with the human anatomy in mind didn't work on magical creatures. They usually had to be nursed back to health the same way non-magical animals were, and the unicorn had lost too much blood for that to be an option. But Cassandra knew a type of magic that was particularly amenable to intent, and a healing ritual she could readily perform with what she had at hand.

She took out her wand and started quickly transfiguring runes from a branch she found behind her. It was oak, not bloodwood, but it would have to do. She laid them out in the form of a pentagram around the fallen animal, then took the rest of her clothes off, tossing them aside. She cut her own palm with a spell, then proceeded to drip her blood over the runes. She drew the final rune on the unicorn's head, right below its horn, and kneeled in front of it again. She could feel the magic of the forest thrumming through the runes. She visualised the animal's wound knitting itself closed, and her own blood giving it strength, and started chanting. After a while, her world faded to black.

Sometime later, she woke up in a bed in the hospital wing with Madam Pomfrey hovering over her.

"Oh, thank goodness, you're awake!" The witch exclaimed. "You did a very irresponsible thing, and lost a lot of blood. We were very worried for you."

Cassandra nodded to appease her. She looked around slowly, and saw Professor Dumbledore sitting on a chair by her bedside, with Professor Snape standing silently behind him, looking extremely put-out. Cassandra wanted to snap at him. The man couldn't even muster up enough compassion to pretend he had any bedside manners.

"Did it work?" She asked the headmaster. "Did I save it?"

Professor Snape's scowl somehow deppened, even though Cassandra hadn't thought it possible.

"You almost killed yourself in the grounds of this school, Miss Lestrange, and the first thing you inquire about when you wake up is the health of a unicorn? In your years as my student I hadn't pegged you as a fool, but apparently I was wrong," Snape chided. Klaus croaked angrily at him from somewhere above her head, and Dumbledore smiled.

"That is a very loyal raven you have there, Miss Lestrange," the headmaster said. "Madam Pomfrey tried to get it out of the room, but it had none of it."

"He's my familiar. He goes where I go," she answered. "Specially when I'm hurt."

"Yes," Professor Dumbledore agreed. "It takes an exceptional amount of trust between a magical creature and a wizard for a familiar bond to be formed; did you know that? A wizard can own a magical creature for its entire life without the bond ever forming, only having it as a pet. My own phoenix, Fawkes, stayed by my side for close to a decade before she accepted our bond. How long did it take for you and Klaus?"

"A couple months," Cassandra answered.

"That doesn't surprise me, considering his witch is the kind of person who would risk losing her own life to save another creature's," Dumbledore replied.

"Of all the stupid things-" Professor Snape started, only to be interrupted by the headmaster.

"Severus, please. The girl has had a very taxing day. You can yell at her once she's fully recovered," Dumbledore said calmly. Snape glared at the back of the headmaster's head, then left the room in silence.

"The unicorn. Is it ok?" Cassandra asked again.

"Yes, it is," Dumbledore replied. "According to Mr. Diggory, it was nearly dead when the two of you found it."

"None of it was Cedric's fault. We were talking when Klaus came to warn me about the unicorn, and Cedric only went into the forest because he didn't want me to go in alone. He tried to talk me out of it," Cassandra said.

"I know, my dear," Dumbledore said. "Mr. Diggory and Professor Kettleburn were walking back into the forest to find you when Firenze carried you out. Mr. Diggory was quite distressed at your state, but was able to tell us what had happened."

"Firenze?" She asked.

"One of the centaurs that live in the Forbidden Forest. Some of them watched you perform your ritual, and he carried you out of the forest once you passed out," Dumbledore replied.

Cassandra shivered at the knowledge she had been watched as she tried to save the creature. "Why didn't they intervene?" She asked. "Why didn't they try to help it?"

"I'm afraid their magic would have been of no help. They were going to take the animal out of its misery before you arrived," Dumbledore said. Cassandra nodded. That made sense.

"It wasn't an accident," she said. "Something butchered that unicorn for its blood."

"I know," Dumbledore replied.

"Do you know what did it? I can't even comprehend the vileness of something capable of doing that. Unicorns are..."

"Unmatched in their nobility, and in the goodness of their magic," Dumbledore completed her sentence.

"Yes," Cassandra assented. "There was no choice, Professor. I couldn't watch it die. A part of me would have died with it, that I'm not ready to lose yet."

"I understand, my girl," the headmaster answered. "Seeing something so singularly pure desecrated in such a violent manner would've affected anyone with a good heart. You had the tools to save it, and you did. But you could have died. You might have had, based on the extent of your injuries, if Firenze hadn't carried you out in time."

"That was my choice to make," Cassandra answered. "And I would make the same one again, if I had the chance. My entire line has died out, or is incarcerated, Professor. If I were to die saving the life of such a pure creature, my sacrifice would be a drop in the cauldron compared with the pain caused by the acts carried out by my family.

For a moment, the headmaster looked pained. "It is not your responsibility to atone for the sins of your family, Miss Lestrange."

"All I have done, my entire life, is carry the sins of my parents, Professor. I have grown quite used to their weight," Cassandra replied.

The headmaster nodded sadly, and took his leave.

Hours later, after she'd had another nap and a blood-replenishing potion, Madam Pomfrey allowed Adrian and Cedric in for a visit. They both looked haggard and worried.

"You stupid, hard-headed, crazy bitch-" Adrian started, only to be stopped short by an angry Cedric.

"Don't talk to your girlfriend like that!" Cedric said, with shocking forcefulness.

"My girlfriend?!" "His girlfriend?!" Adrian and Cassandra exclaimed at the same time.

"Whatever you think is going on here, is not what's actually going on here, Diggory," Adrian said with a hint of humor.

"Does everyone think that?" Cassandra asked, annoyed. "He's not my boyfriend. We have no interest in each other like that."

"It's true," Adrian shrugged.

"But… You're together all the time. Whenever he's not with Flint, he's always with you." Cedric said.

"Whenever he's not with Flint?" Cassandra asked, turning to her friend. "Since when have you been spending so much time with-"

"That's not relevant right now," Adrian said quickly. "I peeked my head out of the Quidditch pitch when I heard Diggory screaming the castle down calling for Kettleburn, only to see you being carried out of the Forbidden Forest naked and covered in blood by a centaur. When I recovered from the near heart attack that gave me and managed to fly there, I heard from said centaur you were bleeding out because you tried to kill yourself to save a unicorn. Have you been hit in the head by any stray bludgers lately, Lestrange? What were you thinking? Since when do you pull stupid life-threatening stunts, and without me? I know today's not your favorite day, but this is a little much."

Klaus cawed in agreement. "Traitor," Cassandra muttered at her familiar.

"It wasn't as if I planned it out," she said sullenly to Adrian. "Cedric and I were talking, and Klaus flew over to tell me about the unicorn. We followed him and when we got to it, I realized it was dying, and what I had to do."

"So you sent me out for Kettleburn for nothing?" Cedric asked her, suddenly serious. Cassandra winced.

"Look," she tried, in a conciliatory tone, "I figured you wouldn't let me do what I needed to do, so I thought I would have you get Kettleburn, and when you found us I would have performed the ritual already. I expected the blood, but I didn't anticipate the fainting bit."

"You could have died," Cedric continued in the same serious tone. "Merlin, when I saw you, I thought you were-" The wizard ran a hand over his face, as if trying to compose himself. "I thought you were dead, Cassandra. And that it was my fault because I left you in that stupid forest when I knew I shouldn't have. I trusted you, and you lied to me."

If Cassandra could blast a hole in the ground and disappear into it, she would. She was used to anger and disappointment, but they felt unbearable coming from the Hufflepuff. He had said those wonderful things to her earlier, and now he looked sad and tired, and it was her fault. She did the only thing she could think of to turn the situation around, and started crying. "I'm so sorry," she said through her tears. "I didn't mean to worry you, I just wanted to do whatever I could to save it."

At that, Cedric knelt on the floor by her bedside and hugged her, saying that it was okay, and that he'd only been concerned for her. Cassandra let herself bask in the warmth of his hug. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been held with such affection by another person. When she opened her eyes, still embracing Cedric, she saw Adrian staring at her, amused and incredulous. "You are unbelievable," her friend soundlessly mouthed at her. "Shut up," she answered in the same manner.

When Cedric pulled back, his cheeks slightly pink, Cassandra wiped her tears with the bed's white linen sheets. The tears hadn't been entirely sincere, but she realized she had needed to shed them.

"I'm glad you're alright," he said finally, still kneeling besides her and now holding her hand between his. He was stroking the back of her hand with his thumb absent-mindedly. Cassandra was hypnotized by the feeling. If she could bottle up Cedric Diggory's physical affection, she would never need to consume anything else. "And as silly as that might sound now, I'm glad you…"

"You glad I'm… what?" She asked, curious to know what the wizard wanted to say. He looked embarrassed for a moment, looking back and forth between her and Adrian.

"Whatever you say to her, she's probably going to repeat to me later," Adrian said.

"Shut up, Adrian," Cassandra said, and then felt a realization hit her like a ton of bricks. "Oh."

"What is it?" Adrian asked anxiously. "Are you in pain? Should I get Pomfrey?"

"You!" She said, and turned to Cedric. "Before Klaus arrived, when we were talking. You were about to confess your feelings to me. That's what the whole speech was about."

"There was a speech?" Adrian asked, interested.

Cassandra turned to her friend. "I am deathly serious here, Pucey. If you don't shut up, I'm going to feed you to the giant squid." She turned back to Cedric, who was blushing madly at this point. "The whole speech about seeing me, that's what it was about, wasn't it? You have feelings for me."

Cedric cleared his throat. "I, yes. That's what it was about. I do. Have feelings for you, I mean. I've had them for a while."

Cassandra smiled. "How long?" She asked him. "How long have you had those feelings for?"

"Last year. When I saw you singing to the baby Mandrake. I thought it was - this is so embarrassing - I started really paying attention to you then. But I thought you and Pucey were together." Cedric answered.

"So you just pined for me from afar?" Cassandra teased. Cedric's ears were red by this point. She nudged him. "Did you build up your courage to talk to me today, hoping I would realize you were the right wizard for me and dump Pucey on his sorry ass?"

"No, I wouldn't in a million years try to break up your relationship, I just - I just wanted to - everyone was being so harsh to you and I wanted to-" At this point, Cedric looked up from the ground at her and realized she was holding in her laughter. "Merlin," he huffed out. "You really are evil." At that, she started to laugh heartily, as did he.

"I'm sorry," she said, still laughing. "I shouldn't have teased you. It was cruel of me."

"I forgive you," Cedric said with an easy smile. "And it's alright. That you don't have feelings for me. I didn't expect you to. I just wanted you to know that not everyone believes the bad things said about you. I don't. And I never will."

When he started to get up, Cassandra grabbed his hands. He stopped, startled, and sat at the edge of her bed when she didn't let him go.

"I don't have feelings for you," she said softly, stroking his thumb with hers, "not yet." At that, Cedric's eyes locked with hers. "But I think I could have," she continued. "If we started being around each other more. If today is any indication, I don't think it wouldn't take me very long."

"You really think so?" Cedric asked, brows furrowed. He was looking at her searchingly, seeming almost afraid to find an answer.

"Yeah, I think so," Cassandra said with a smile. "It was a really great speech."

"That's good. That's really, really good to hear," Cedric said with a matching smile. "I practiced that speech in front of a mirror and everything."

"You didn't," she said, incredulous.

"I did," he said simply.

"That's painfully embarrassing. It's a little endearing, but mostly embarrassing. Why would you ever admit that?" Cassandra asked.

"Because teasing me seems to make you happy," the wizard said. "And being made fun of by a beautiful witch seems like a very small price to pay for your happiness."

"I was expecting to have a miserable day today," Cassandra said. "From the moment I woke up, all I wanted was to go to sleep again, just so tomorrow would come quicker. But instead, I saved a unicorn's life, and I found out a really great guy has feelings for me."

"It sounds like you had a brilliant day," Cedric said with a pleased smile.

"One of the best I've ever had," she replied.

Chapter Text

The holidays were coming. The castle and grounds were covered in several feet of pristine white snow, and the cold wind blew sharp and fresh against Cassandra's face when she walked outside. Which, due to the numerous detentions and scoldings she'd received from professors over the incident during her birthday, was not often. The one exception was Professor Kettleburn, who, in his love of magical creatures, felt Cassandra's behavior had been nothing short of commendable. That the only teacher who supported her actions did not even have a third of his limbs left had not escaped the witch.

Nonetheless, she was still worried about what she'd found in the forest. She poured over books on magical creatures, potions, and the dark arts, some of which she had Mimi bring over from the house, some she'd borrowed from the library's restricted section with a pass from Kettleburn, trying to figure out what could harm a unicorn in that way, and why it would want to.

Unicorns possessed very powerful magic properties, and many parts of their bodies - such as their tail hairs and horns, were commonly used in potions and wand-making. But the harvesting of these ingredients did not require the animal to be killed. As a matter of fact, it was well-known amongst potion-makers that concoctions made with ingredients taken from a slain unicorn would often have unpredictable and adverse side-effects. Taking the life of a creature of such concentrated light magic corrupted not only the magic of its killer, but also tainted the magic left in the animal's carcass.

No matter how much she read, it all kept coming back to blood. Cassandra knew that's what the magical creature had been killed for. When she and Cedric had found it, there weren't chunks of flesh missing, and its horn had been intact. What had been missing, were pints of its blood. Her mind had gone to vampires at first, but her research indicated that unicorns would be highly sensitive to the presence of the dark creatures, and could easily outrun them. Besides, the injured unicorn's throat must have have been cut, for the wound she remembered healing was too perfect, too clean to have been done by anything other than a knife or a severing spell.

Other clues started piling in. In one of the books on the dark arts taken from her family library, she found a passage that used the terms 'blood' and 'life essence' interchangeably for unicorns. The same book suggested wizards who seeked to prolong their natural lives could attempt doing so by experimenting with the substance, 'at their own peril'. An ancient tome taken from the dustiest recesses of the restricted section listed unicorn blood as an ingredient in a potion to regrow limbs severed by dark magic. A note scribbled at the end of the page that contained said recipe informed of the risk of the regrown limb turning against its host and attempting to kill them. There was even a ritual for the creation of a humanoid body for an unnatached soul to latch itself to, written by hand on a journal that belonged to a long dead Lestrange witch, that required not only unicorn blood, but also human bones, flesh and blood.

From all her research, Cassandra eventually concluded the unicorn must've been killed for its blood by a witch or wizard practicing magic of the darkest kind. The knowledge that such a person had been roaming the Forbidden Forest at some point, so close to the castle, was disturbing enough to make her put the subject off her mind entirely for a while. She still had to sleep at night somehow.

Not being able to roam the grouds, and wanting a distraction from her worries, Cassandra threw herself into her classwork. Cedric had taken to sitting with her during Defense and Arithmancy, the two classes besides Herbology the third year Slytherins and Hufflepuffs shared, much to the bewilderment of their classmates. Many theories were shared as to what exactly had happened in the Forbidden Forest to bring the two together, some of which amused the witch more than others.

"What I don't understand," Adrian said to her as they worked on their Potions essays side by side in the Slytherin common room one afternoon. "Is how Diggory is supposed to be the one who saved you from being killed by the centaurs when it was one of them that carried you out of the forest. Doesn't seem like very beastly behavior, giving you back and all."

"Well, given that Firenze is my centaur lover, Adrian, obviously he couldn't bear to watch me being murdered by the rest of his clan," Cassandra answered without looking up from her parchment. Adrian chortled. That particular theory was one of her favourites. Like the mere thought of a Lestrange mating with a beast wouldn't be enough to have her ancestors spinning in their tombs.

That thought, however, led Cassandra's mind to a direction that caused her some measure of anxiety. She had no doubt her grandfather would respect, if not fully approve, her decision to perform a potentially deadly ritual on herself. They both agreed that there were many fates worse than death, and that subjugating oneself to an existence defined by one's fear of it was foolish and useless. His own work as a potion-maker had caused him to test out many potentially fatal potions on himself throughout the years, and the wizard considered the adverse side-effects that experimentation had had on his body an unfortunate, but acceptable price to be paid for the advancement of the science. What Cassandra worried about was her grandfather's thoughts in regards to Cedric Diggory's tentative courtship of her.

Being the future head of the Lestrange family, it was ultimately up to Cassandra to decide what she did and did not find acceptable in a partner and, eventually, in her choice of husband. Nonetheless, she was very much aware of the expectations placed upon her as not only a Lestrange, but also as a Black. If her parents' side had won the war, it was likely an arrangement would have been made for her marriage to her cousin Draco, or some other heir of a pureblood supremacist family. Maybe she would've married a Rosier, like her grandfather had married her late grandmother Druella, or even a son of her uncle Rabastan or of Sirius Black, her first cousin once removed, who had switched loyalties at the end of the war. If she had to give up the Lestrange name after marrying, she found the idea of taking the Black name comforting. They were already her family.

Or maybe, if all that was said about her parents being the Dark Lord's most faithful servants was true, Cassandra would've been saved for the Dark Lord himself. After all, had he won and taken control of the wizarding world, he would've needed an heir to eventually take his place. Cassandra contemplated the thought. Sometimes she wondered what kind of person she would be had she grown up under her parents' influence. Would she have come to worship the Dark Lord as they did? Would the idea of serving him and bearing his children have filled her with joy? Now, the thought made her nauseous.

Cassandra prided herself on being a realist. Despite all the childish fantasies she'd once had about having her family reunited, she knew their imprisonment had granted her freedoms she wouldn't have been afforded otherwise. She was free to make up her own mind on the issue of pureblood superiority or, as she preferred, to avoid taking a stand on the topic entirely, to date freely and even to never marry if she so wished. In a sense, with her family in Azkaban, she was freer than Draco, or any of her pureblood classmates. Being the last of her line, there wasn't a threat of disinheritance hanging over her head for stepping over any arbitrary lines drawn by her family. She could do as she pleased, and when she turned seventeen, the content of the Lestrange vaults would still be hers.

She was free to pursue a relationship with Cedric Diggory, a compassionate, caring wizard, son of a half-blood mother and a father who had not publicly taken a side during the war, too terrified of the Dark Lord and his followers to risk angering him in such a manner. Still, just because dating Cedric wouldn't result in her disinheritance, it didn't mean Cassandra wanted to alienate her grandfather, the only family member she trusted and loved.

Grandfather Cygnus rarely spoke to her about his own views on politics or the war, but he had raised his three daughters to be paragons of pureblood ideals, and threw one of them out of the family when she chose to marry a muggleborn. Cedric's blood would be considered pure enough by most families, but the House of Black was known for its strict standards in that regard. Nothing short of the purest of the Sacred Twenty-Eight was enough for a Black. Ultimately, if she had to choose between staying in her grandfather's good graces or being able to get involved with whoever she wanted, Cassandra's unwillingness to be controlled would trump out her loyalty to the man who had raised her, but she did not want to be forced to make such a choice.

That's what she was thinking about when Mimi came to retrieve her from the train station at the beginning of the holidays. After being apparated to the house and greeting Gibbo and Hux, the two other Lestrange house-elves, Cassandra refreshed herself and walked out of her home, wanting to clear her head before searching for her grandfather, who was probably working in his laboratory.

First, she went to the aviary, and hand-fed the various magical and mundane birds that had to be kept in the spacious but restricted building to avoid being eaten by the various predators in the area. The species that did not do well in captivity would visit the feeding stations outside the building throughout the day, by now used to the easy access to food. Cassandra said hello to Klaus, who had flown back alongside the train, and stunned a few chickens, which she put in a bucket she levitated by her side, and then made her way with him to the woods that surrounded the property.

As they made their way deeper into the woods, Klaus croaked from her shoulder, and pecked at her ear. "You're right," Cassandra said to the raven, and summoned a pair of dragonhide gloves, which she put on. "I'd forgotten. Thank you."

The bird cooed happily and flew away. Cassandra smiled. It was good to be back home.

She started whistling softly as she walked, making up a tune, and soon enough, a bird-like head peaked out from behind a tree, looking at her curiously. The witch stood still, and watched as the half-bird, half-reptile, dragon-like magical beast walked towards her. The snallygaster, small for its kind, stood at about eight feet tall, and its serrated steel fangs shone when the animal opened its mouth. Once they stood about ten feet apart, Cassandra raised her hand, and the beast stopped moving.

"Hello, Sally," Cassandra said while she took a bird from the bucket levitating behind her. "I have something for you."

With a spell, she revived the chicken and then threw it up in the air. The snallygaster moved incredibly fast, snatching its prey from the air, and started chewing it voraciously once it landed back down.

"That's right. You're such a good girl," Cassandra said. She repeated the action a couple more times, until the creature seemed satisfied, and then approached it. She stroked its feathers firmly, and in return the animal headbutted her shoulder with enough force to throw her back a couple steps. "I know," Cassandra said with a laugh, and continued to pet it, touching her nose to its snout. "I missed you too, pretty girl."

After spending some time with Sally, then visiting some of the other creatures that resided in the woods, Cassandra made her way back to the house, now with a spring in her step. When she entered the foyer, she saw her grandfather waiting for her.

"It's nice to see where I stand in your list of priorities, child," The old man said. "Even the beasts get a visit before your grandfather, huh?"

"Says the man who couldn't be bothered to get away from his cauldrons for long enough to pick his granddaughter up from the train station," she answered with a grin. Her grandfather's mouth twitched in a barely concealed smile.

"Go on then, and make yourself ready for dinner. We have much to talk about," he said. Cassandra nodded and went up the stairs to her room.

Once they were at the table and dinner had been served, her grandfather started his interrogation.

"So," he said. "How do you justify me having to find out about my granddaughter being injured from a letter from Severus Snape, of all people?"

"I apologize, grandfather. I should have written to you at once. I wasn't counting on Professor Snape's… promptness in informing you of what had happened. It took me a couple of days to recover fully and write you," Cassandra said.

"I believe Severus was terrified I would consider him personally responsible for your injuries. The Black name isn't what it once was, but I still have considerable sway in the potion-making world. It would not be too hard for me to cause him to be blacklisted, and he knows that," her grandfather said. "Of course, I know better than to expect anyone around you to be able to stop you from doing something once you've set your mind to it."

Cassandra wanted to roll her eyes. Of course Snape's concern would not be for the health of one of his students, but for the consequences to his own reputation if one of his pureblood pupils were to be harmed under his watch. He propably couldn't care less if any of them lived or died, as long as they perished outside of Hogwarts.

"It was a very unwise thing you did, Cassandra," the wizard continued. "Risking your life like that for an animal. Animals are replaceable. You are not. It pains me to think you value yourself so little."

She blinked, then blinked again a few times. When framed like that, her actions sounded beyond irrational. Her grandfather was right. She put her fork down, and looked at him. There was no winning an argument against Cygnus Black.

"I hadn't thought of it like that," she said honestly. "I didn't believe I would die, not really. We were close enough to the school and there was someone coming for me. I was prepared to be hurt, and to bleed, but those things can be healed easily enough."

"And if another creature had scented your blood and chosen to attack you? Injured prey is easy prey, you know that," he said. "There are all manner of beasts residing in that forest. One of them could easily have finished you off before anyone got to you."

"You're right. I could have died. I'm sorry. I won't be so careless in the future," Cassandra answered.

Her grandfather looked at her pointedly. "See that you do. I have no intention of outliving you, child. Besides that, how was your term?"

"Our Defense professor is a fumbling mess. He's solid enough on the theory, which is better than nothing, I suppose, but we haven't lifted our wands once in his classroom, and I don't think we will. Professor McGonagall still doesn't like me, but she doesn't let her bias affect her grading, which is all I can ask for. Professor Babbling was impressed by my rune work and suggested some books for extra reading. The rest is the same. Good. I'm doing my occlumency exercises every day," she said.

"Defense is a lost cause at Hogwarts, we know that," her grandfather said. "You can catch up on your practice during the summer, send an outline of the subjects covered in class this year to Ivanovich so he knows what to include on your lessons."

Cassandra nodded. Boris Ivanovich was a gruff old wizard who'd taught Dark Arts at Durmstrang for many decades before retiring and moving to Italy to live the rest of his days away from his two nemeses - lazy children and the cold. He'd been reluctantly brought out of retirement by her grandfather to tutor her during the summers once Cassandra had informed him of the poor state of Hogwarts' Defense Against the Dark Art curriculum. He was ruthless, and demanding, and the best teacher she had ever had. She looked forward to her summer lessons.

"There's something else I would like to talk to you about, grandfather," Cassandra said. The older wizard looked at her expectantly. "What do you know about the Diggory family?"

Her grandfather's brows furrowed. "Diggory… Well, there was an Eldritch Diggory who was Minister of Magic in the seventeen hundreds, I believe he was the one who created the Auror recruitment program. And I've dealt with an Amos Diggory a few times at the Ministry, over at the Magical Creatures department. Unremarkable wizard. Why?"

"Amos Diggory has a son. Cedric. He's a third year. We… Well," Cassandra paused, willing herself not to blabber. She was a Lestrange, and Lestranges did not blabber. "He expressed his wish to court me, and I said yes." She said evenly.

Her grandfather cleaned his mouth with his napkin, and sat back on his chair, looking at her. "I see," he said simply.

"His family was neutral during the war, and Cedric's blood is as pure as it gets outside Sacred Twenty-Eight. It might not be what you envisioned for me, but I am already the head of my own family. I would gain very little by marrying some overindulged heir. And I will feed myself to the giant squid before I marry Draco," Cassandra said. She wasn't sure, but she thought she could almost see a smile dancing at the edge of her grandfather's expression.

"Dramatics aside, why do you believe I would rather have you married to your cousin Draco than to this Diggory boy?" He asked.

"Because of everything the House of Black stands for," Cassandra said. "And you did raise my mother."

"I also raised Andromeda," her grandfather answered. She didn't flinch, but it was a near thing. She couldn't remember him ever using her aunt's name, or voluntarily talking about her at all.

The older wizard sighed deeply. "I am an old man, Cassandra, but I do like to think I've learned from my past mistakes. I raised three beautiful, brilliant witches to be everything I'd been taught by my family a proper pureblood witch should be. At no point did it occur to me to ask them what kind of witches they wanted to be. Things just weren't done that way that in our family. And after Druella died giving birth to Narcissa… well, there's no use going into that. Let's just say I wasn't as present in my daughters' lives as I should've been. I didn't listen to them. And because of that, all three went out looking for someone who would. Narcissa found that pompous fool Malfoy and never looked back, Andromeda found the muggleborn, and your mother-" Her grandfather sighed again. "Your mother found the Dark Lord. I lost all three of my daughters in different ways, and it was entirely my fault."

Cassandra wanted to reach out and hold his hand, but she wasn't sure he would welcome the touch. They weren't a particularly physically affectionate family.

"Then one day, the Ministry came knocking on my door and asked me if I could negotiate with my five year old granddaughter, who was holding herself hostage in her own house," he said with a chuckle. "Even then, you knew exactly what you wanted, Cassandra. I will not have you turn your back on me because I refused to listen to you. Recent incidents aside, you have always shown good judgment in your choices. If the Diggory boy is what you want, and you believe his is worthy of you, then you can have him. Of course, I'll need to meet his family and-"

But she didn't let her grandfather finish. Before he could, she did something neither of them could ever remember her doing, and threw her arms around him, hugging him as fiercely as she could. Eventually, the older wizard hugged her back.

"That's alright," he said after a while, and they both sat back on their chairs. Cassandra was smiling at her grandfather. This had gone so much better than she thought it would.

"Thank you, grandfather," she said.

"You're welcome, child," he replied.

Chapter Text

Cassandra went back to Hogwarts the day before winter term started. Once she arrived and put her things away, she set out to meet the Weasley twins.

She had struggled picking out Yule gifts for the brothers at first, but once she remembered they were teenage boys almost single-mindedly dedicated to driving authority figures into an early grave, the task had become a lot easier. In the end, she decided on two vials of Polyjuice Potion, taken from her grandfather's stores, which she knew would go a long way in helping them cause chaos and mayhem around the castle.

"We can turn ourselves into Snape," Fred said with glee once he opened the parcel she handed them. "Or Filch. Or Dumbledore. Or- Imagine what we can do with this, George."

"I am, Fred. Cassandra, I could kiss you right now," George replied. When Fred jokingly launched himself at her, she made him lick a patch of wall instead.

After talking to the twins, she headed towards Hufflepuff Basement to see Cedric. They had corresponded during the break, him describing Christmas with his family and her speaking of the traditional Yule rites she and her grandfather observed. She was unreasonably excited to see him again. She realized that in some unconscious level, she'd been holding back in their budding relationship before she could talk to her grandfather about it. Knowing now that pursuing it wouldn't drive an edge between her and the only person she considered family made her almost giddy.

Once she reached the entrance to the basement, she waited outside until a first year showed up, then paid the boy a galeon to fetch the older student.

"That looks so undignified," she said with a laugh as Cedric made his way out of the passageway that led to the Hufflepuff common room. It was tall enough for the average eleven year old to be able to walk through, barely. Anyone taller had to either hunch or crawl their way through. What if there was an emergency and they had to leave at once? Were all the Hufflepuffs supposed to crawl orderly one behind another? If they tried that in her House, the Slytherins would probably trample each other to death.

"Yeah, I don't know why they didn't make it tall enough to walk through. But it's not that bad. It's fun for the firsties," Cedric said good-naturedly. His eyes traveled over Cassandra's face and body, as if he wanted to make sure she looked the same as the last time they had seen each other. When he noticed her watching him look at her, his cheeks pinked slightly, but he had a small, happy smile on his face. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," Cassandra replied with a smile of her own, and they both moved in for a hug. She closed her eyes, and for a moment, all that existed was Cedric. Cedric's arms around her waist, Cedric's hands splayed on her back, his scent where her face was pressed against his throat, the delicate way his nose touched the skin behind her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. Merlin, they hadn't even kissed yet. Could someone die from being kissed?

Once they separated, Cedric laced his fingers with hers. He seemed as reluctant to stop touching her as she was to get away from him. "Come on," she said. "I have a place we can talk."

She took him to her meditation spot, under the open sky at the top of the Astronomy tower. Cedric cast a warming spell around them, and they sat down facing each other, their knees touching.

"You're wearing it," Cedric said, and moved to touch the pendant resting on her breastbone, at the end of a delicate silver chain. He touched the small, silver raven for a few moments, until the silver bird woke and took flight, and they both watched the charmed pendant fly around Cassandra at a leisurely pace. After a while, the raven came back to rest on his place on her chest.

"I am," she said with a smile. "I have been since I got it. It's perfect. How are you enjoying your new broom?"

Cedric threw his head back in frustration. "You are unbelievable, you know that? There I was on Christmas morning, thinking I had gotten the girl I like the perfect gift and that she would be so impressed with how thoughtful I am, and then I open her gift to me, and it's a Nimbus Two Thousand."

Cassandra laughed. "I wouldn't worry about it," she said. "I have it on good authority that the girl you like thinks you're very thoughtful. And that she loved the gift you got her. She just happens to have a large budget, and not that many people to buy presents for."

"It's way too expensive. My parents were insistent that I shouldn't accept it," Cedric said. He sounded conflicted.

"You should accept it," Cassandra said. She reached forward, and smoothed out the small frown that had formed between his eyebrows with the pad of her finger. "If not because you want to, then because it would make me happy."

That's all it took to convince him. Cassandra remembered what he'd said to her at the Hospital Wing, about not minding her teasing if it made her happy. She laid in bed that night and replayed their conversation in her head. She'd never had anyone voluntarily put her happiness above their comfort before. Above their family's express wishes. Her own parents had considered their cause more important than their daughter. A part of her felt warm and cherished by Cedric's actions. And another part, dark and unhealthy, wanted to know just how far she could push him. How much she could ask of him before he walked away from her. She went over that thought again and again, like pressing on a bruise to feel it hurt, until she fell asleep.

The weeks that followed were some of the calmest and happiest of Cassandra's life. She studied, hung out with Adrian, and grew closer to Cedric. They went on their first official date on a Hogsmeade trip, and she consoled him after Hufflepuff lost the first match of the term to Gryffindor. She hexed the Weasleys when their teasing over Gryffindor overtaking Slytherin in the house championship for the first time in seven years became too annoying, and made fun of them when her team beat Ravenclaw and her House took its rightful position back again.

Her respite ended when her cousin was caught sneaking around the castle after curfew, and assigned detention by Professor McGonagall as punishment.

"It's not fair!" Draco cried out to her in the common room. She had been practicing a hair-growth spell on a few first-year girls excited by the opportunity to learn advanced beauty spells from an older student when the boy marched into the room and shooed the young witches away. Cassandra had scowled at his presumptuousness, and was now looking at him passively as he complained. "Potter and Weasley were smuggling a dragon out of the castle, and I'm punished for trying to do the right thing."

She rolled her eyes. "It's just the two of us here, Draco, you don't have to lie to me."

"I'm not lying!" The blonde boy protested. "I overheard them talking about it, and saw the dragon in Hagrid's hut through the window, I swear!"

"I don't doubt that part. A few students smuggling a dragon would not be the most outrageous thing to ever have happened in this school, not by a long stretch. And it makes sense that Weasley would be involved, since his brother works with them. It's the whole 'doing the right thing' I'm skeptical about." Cassandra replied.

Draco huffed, and sat down besides her, sullen. "At least they got detention as well. Longbottom and that know-it-all Granger too. Does Weasley really have a brother who works with dragons?"

Cassandra tensed at the mention of Neville Longbottom. "Yes," she answered. "Charlie, graduated last year. Everyone thought he'd play Quidditch professionally, but he went to work at a dragon reserve in Romania."

"Typical Weasley," Draco scoffed. "They have no sense."

She didn't protest. Even if she was friends with the twins, no one could accuse them of being particularly sensible. She turned to her cousin. "Look, Draco, it's just detention. Maybe you'll write lines, or polish a few trophies, but it's hardly the end of the world. I've done plenty of them."

But she'd been wrong. The morning after his detention, Draco told her the tale of a hooded figure drinking the blood of a slain unicorn in the Forbidden Forest, and Harry Potter being rescued by the same centaur that had saved her. Cassandra's blood went cold.

"I can't believe this," she muttered to herself as she marched to Professor Kettleburn's office. She didn't know where her fear ended and her rage begun. Knowing that not one, but two unicorns had been killed in the Forbidden Forest within the week, someone had still made the decision to send a group of first years into those woods with nothing but a half-giant and a scared dog. As a result, those first years had almost been attacked by the dark wizard responsible for the butchering happening so close to the castle.

Agitated as she was, Cassandra drew her wand as soon as she felt a hand grabbing her arm from behind her. She was halfway through casting a blasting curse when she realized it was Cedric trying to get her attention.

"What do you think you're doing?" She snapped at him, freeing her arm from his hold. "I almost cursed you!"

"I noticed," Cedric said. He was breathing deeply, as if he'd been running. "Klaus flew into the common room and wouldn't stop pecking me until I came with him. I have no idea how he even got into the basement. I was worried something had happened to you."

"Is that why you're bleeding?" Cassandra asked, noticing the blood smeared on Cedric's ears, and the wizard nodded, swiping at them distractedly.

"What's going on?" He asked. "You seem upset."

"I don't have time to explain now," she answered. "I need to go talk to Kettleburn. It has to do with the dead unicorns in the Forbidden Forest."

"Unicorns? As in more than the one you saved?" Cedric said, his eyebrows going up.

"Yes," Cassandra said.

"Alright. Lead the way," he replied. Cassandra looked at him for a moment. She didn't really mind him coming with her. She didn't trust many people to have her back, but she did trust Cedric. What she didn't trust was that he would still like her after he saw what she was going to do. She took a deep breath. If that was going to happen, it might as well happen now, before she became too attached to him.

"Cassandra!" Professor Kettleburn exclaimed once he saw her entering his office. "It's good to see you, my dear! And who is your friend?"

"This is Cedric Diggory, my boyfriend," she said. She felt him jerk in surprise at the qualifier before stepping forward and introducing himself to the eccentric Care of Magical Creatures teacher. She and Cedric hadn't defined their relationship yet, but she preferred her rejection to come from a boyfriend rather than a friend who had confessed his feelings for her. Hating him would be easier that way.

"How can I assist the two of you today?" Kettleburn asked jovially.

"How many unicorns have been found dead in the Forbidden Forest since the beginning of the school year?" She asked, going straight to the point.

"Aah," the teacher said. "I see you've been informed of the creatures found this week. Not counting the one you saved, four, I believe."

"After all the censure I got for doing that, professor, you can imagine my surprise when I found out someone saw fit for the groundskeeper to take a group of first years that included my eleven year old cousin, into the forest at the dead of night yesterday to find the latest one," Cassandra said with steel in her voice. "Apparently it's fine for students to get themselves killed in the Forbidden Forest, as long as it's during a detention."

Kettleburn looked deeply uncomfortable. "My dear, I believe all Rubeus was trying to do was give the students a valuable learning opportunity. I am sure no one was hurt."

Cassandra felt Klaus landing on her shoulder, and focused on the feeling of him to calm herself down. She was not going to scream, or hex her teacher. "There is a dark wizard butchering unicorns in the forest to drink their blood," she said calmly. "Any wizard worth their wand would have figured that out months ago. And instead of calling the Aurors, it was decided that a bunch of children should be put in harm's way?"

"My dear-" The teacher started.

"Professor Kettleburn," she interrupted him, "I understand you are not to blame for this. That's not why I'm here. I would very much appreciate, however, if you could call Mr. - what is the half-giant's name?"

"Hagrid," Cedric said.

"Mr. Hagrid here so we can talk. I'm strongly considering encouraging my grandfather and my uncle Lucius Malfoy to lodge formal complaints against Mr. Hagrid and whoever else approved yesterday's little excursion with the Board of Governors, unless someone explains to me what on Merlin's name is going on in this school. I'm sure you understand the gravity of the consequences that can arise from the opening of such a complaint."

"Rubeus is a good man, Ms. Lestrange," Kettleburn protested. "He's brilliant with animals, and a great asset to this school."

Cassandra raised one eyebrow skeptically, and said nothing.

Twenty minutes later, she was facing Rubeus Hagrid. The half-giant squirmed in his seat, trying to make himself comfortable on the too-small chair.

"I have heard from people whose opinions I hold in high regard, Mr. Hagrid, that you are very passionate about the well-being of magical creatures," she started.

"Aye, that I am. An' ye can call me Hagrid. Mr. Hagrid was me father, may he rest in peace," the large man said.

Cassandra nodded. "I only wished your nurturing nature extended itself to human children, Hagrid."

The man stiffened. "I dinna ken what yer implying, but I'd never hurt a child!"

"Yet, you saw fit to take five eleven year olds into the Forbidden Forest last night, when there's someone in there dangerous and unhinged enough to have been killing unicorns for months!" Cassandra said angrily.

"The children were safe with me and Fang!" Hagrid replied defensively. "I would'na have let Harry an' the others get hurt."

"Except you weren't with all of the students throughout your visit to forest, were you? You separated them. And your cowardly dog took off as soon as the dark wizard who's been drinking the blood of those unicorns tried to attack Harry Potter and my cousin Draco," Cassandra shot back.

"Harry was fine!" Hagrid replied shakily. "Firenze stepped in an' got 'im to safety."

"Yes, I heard that. The same centaur who carried me out of the forest months ago. He must be the designated rescuer of students in life-threatening danger among his heard. What if he hadn't gotten there in time? The death of the boy-who-lived would've been on you," she said heatedly.

Hagrid paled. "Professor Dumbledore told me nothing bad would happen! That Harry would be fine."

Cassandra sat back, having gotten part of the information she wanted. "So it was Professor Dumbledore who approved yesterday's excursion? That makes sense, since as groundskeeper it isn't within your purview to decide how students are to serve detentions."

"Professor Dumbledore is a great wizard!" Hagrid exclaimed. "He would never put students in real danger!"

"Hmm," she replied noncommittally. Cassandra had no idea what Professor Dumbledore would or would not do. She hardly knew the headmaster. "I assume Professor Kettleburn told you of my intention to have mine and Draco's grandfather, as well as Draco's father, lodge complaints with the Board of Governors against the people involved in last night's mess?"

"I dinna care how much money yer lot have, ye can't touch Professor Dumbledore," Hagrid said.

"That's true," she conceded, "but the same can't be said for you."

Hagrid looked terrified at the threat. Kettleburn looked appalled. Cassandra didn't risk looking at Cedric at all.

"Unless," she said.

"Unless?" Hagrid asked, his booming voice sounding small and hopeful.

"You help me understand exactly what is going on. Tell me everything you know about what's happening in the forest," Cassandra replied. "I put my own life in jeopardy to save one of those unicorns, Hagrid. I don't understand why the school is allowing this to go on. I imagine it must hurt you to see them harmed as well."

The large man sighed with resignation. "I dinna ken much. I asked Professor Dumbledore about it every time I found one of 'em hurt, an' he told me we could'na act yet. Dinna tell me why. When I told him 'bout the blood I found yesterday, he told me to take Harry and the other kids with me to find the poor thing. I asked the centaurs if they'd seen anything, but gettin' a straight answer from one of 'em is like pulling teeth."

"What did the centaurs say? Exactly?" She asked.

"Summat 'bout how Mars was bright. That the innocents are always the first to be harmed. An' that they could'na interfere in wizarding folks affairs. That's all I remember, I swear." Hagrid said.

Cassandra believed him. Centaurs were notorious for their ability to predict the future by reading the movement of the stars, as well as for their contempt for humans, muggles and wizards alike.

Apparently, the responsibility for the mishandling of the situation in the Forbidden Forest could be laid at the headmaster's feet. Unfortunately, there truly wasn't anything she or her grandfather could do about that. She couldn't think of anyone with the courage to censure the powerful wizard, even for such harebrained actions.

She thanked Hagrid for his cooperation, assuring him she would make sure her family didn't move against him or Professor Dumbledore for the matter, then left Kettleburn's office with Klaus on her shoulder and Cedric behind her. She felt bone-deep weariness all throughout her body. She kept walking until she found a bench far away from prying ears, and sat down. Cedric stood still in front of her, silent.

"Just say it," she said. She sounded tired, and her words had none of the fire they had had in her previous conversation.

"That was… I don't want to use the world cruel," Cedric said, looking at her. He ran his hand through his hair and rubbed his eyes, seeming troubled.

"Harsh. It was harsh," Cassandra offered. "Cruelty requires enjoyment, and I assure you there was nothing about what I just did that I enjoyed."

"Then why did you do it?" Cedric asked.

"What I said is true. I figured out months ago that the unicorn we found had been attacked by a dark wizard for its blood. The blood of a unicorn can be used to keep someone alive, when nothing else will. But hurting the animal corrupts the soul of the wizard. It's foul and unconscionable dark magic. Only someone deeply disturbed would try it," she answered.

"Why didn't you tell anyone? Why didn't you tell me?" Cedric said.

"I didn't know whoever did it was still in the Forbidden Forest," Cassandra said. "Until this morning, I didn't even know any other unicorns had been harmed. I looked into what could've injured the one I helped because I was curious. And since it wasn't particularly obscure information, I thought Dumbledore and the other teachers already knew, and had handled the whole thing quietly. As they should have."

Cedric sighed, and sat down beside her. "So when your cousin told you about what happened last night, you… lost it?"

"I wouldn't say I lost it, but I was furious, yes. I wanted to know why he was sent there, and by whom. And I figured scaring the groundskeeper would be the easiest way to get that information. He's not exactly known for his genius," she said honestly.

Cassandra thought about the pitiful noises the bleeding unicorn Klaus had led her and Cedric to had made, and how scared the dying creature had been of them. "Do you remember how vile it was? How we cried when we saw it? The one we found?"

"Yes," Cedric said quietly. "It was the saddest thing I've ever seen."

"Whoever did that is still out there. They're just kids, Cedric. Eleven year olds. They should not under any circumstances have been sent into that forest. They could've died. Harry Potter and his friends aren't my responsibility, but Draco is my cousin. My grandfather would mourn him just as he would mourn me," Cassandra said. "And Neville Longbottom-" Cedric was looking at her attentively. Her hands were shaking, and forming fists so tight her nails were cutting into her palms. "I've been keeping an eye on him since the beginning of the year. The boy can barely tie his shoes, and they still sent him into those woods."

"Why do you care about what happens to Neville Longbottom?" Cedric asked softly.

Cassandra let out an incredulous laugh. "Are you serious? Everyone keeps asking me that, why do I care about him. How could I not care about him?" She asked intensely. "I owe him an incalculable debt. If it were the other way around, and his family had tortured my parents until they went insane, he would be dead by now."

Cedric looked stricken. "You don't mean that."

"I do. I would have killed him, and his grandmother, and anyone else his parents loved. If anyone did something like that that to my grandfather, or to Adrian, or to you, I would kill them, Cedric. I would destroy them and everything they care about, because they took something of mine. That's who I am. The girl you thought you had feelings for doesn't exist. You made her up in your head. This is the real me. I'm harsh, and vengeful, and I'll go to unthinkable extremes for the people I love. You decide now if that's someone you want in your life." Cassandra said, angry and unwavering, and walked away before Cedric could see her cry.

Chapter Text

Cassandra ran to her dorm room, and didn't cry. She thought she would, when she finally told Cedric what she'd been thinking since the day he confessed his feelings for her - that he didn't know the real her, and would no longer care for her once he did. But every time she felt her eyes filling up with tears, a self-aware part of her made her bark out an involuntary laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. Her parents were in Azkaban, there was a dark wizard roaming around her school, and she wanted to cry over a boy who hadn't stopped her when she had walked away from him.

She believed that if she were not the result of centuries of inbreeding, not the daughter of Death Eaters, she and Cedric might have been great together. But her temperament belonged to a Lestrange. Cedric had believed her to be kindhearted and good despite her family name, and because of his regard for her, and the lure of the tenderness he had shown her, she had been willing to be that, for him. Subtract the overintensity and the penchant for violence from a Lestrange, and you get someone willing to do anything for those they're devoted to. But such restraint didn't come naturally to her.

Yesterday, she had needed to scare Hagrid to get him to tell her what she wanted to know about Draco's and the other first years' detention in the Forbidden Forest, and so she had. She wanted to resent Cedric for having a problem with that. It wasn't as if he was close to the groundskeeper. But if he hadn't cared, he wouldn't be Cedric, and whatever was Cedric, whatever he was composed of, she wanted. They dealt in different values. For his sentimentality, she would give him her strength, and her loyalty. But in the end, that wasn't enough to balance their accounts. He was going to end things with her. Because he was a better person than her, better than any wizard she knew, the nearly perfect guy. Touchingly perfect.

The next day, during lunch, she sat on the opposite side from her usual spot, with her back to the rest of the tables. She didn't want to risk accidentally locking eyes with a certain Hufflepuff. Adrian took the seat by her side.

"I just can't believe it," Adrian said for the upteenth time. Cassandra had told him what had happened while pushing her food around her plate. "He's not going to break up with you over this. He thinks the sun shines out of your ass, it's actually nauseating."

"Not anymore," she said glumly. "He wasn't even mad at me, Adrian, he was- It was like he couldn't reconcile what he'd seen with the person he made me up to be in his head. He's probably disgusted by me now."

"I don't get it," Adrian said. "You've been glued to each other for months. How could he have not figured out you're… you? No offence, but anyone who's around you on a regular basis can tell you're not particularly nice. Or harmless. It's half the fun of being your friend. I thought he was into that, opposites attract and all. Maybe he thought-"

"What does it matter what he thought of me before?" Cassandra cut him off impatiently. "He knows exactly what I am now."

"Maybe we're just not meant for it," Adrian said after a while. She looked at him, trying to understand the meaning of his words. He kept looking ahead, not meeting her eyes. "Love, romance. The whole thing."

"Who do you mean by we? The two of us? Purebloods, Slytherins?" Cassandra asked.

Adrian shrugged. "Pureblood Slytherins? I don't know. Who do we even know with parents who married for love?"

"The Weasleys," Cassandra said. "My aunt Andromeda was disowned for marrying a muggleborn she fell in love with."

She searched her mind, but couldn't think of anyone else. The adults in her social circle had all either married someone their parents had chosen for them, or chosen to marry someone they knew their parents would approve of.

Adrian was now using his fork to angrily stab the food on his plate. "My parents married because they were both half-bloods who found each other agreeable. They want me to find a nice pureblood girl, or maybe a half-blood girl with good connections, so I can marry her and take over the family business. Maybe that's what I should do. Maybe that's all we get. Love is for poor people, and Hufflepuffs."

Cassandra listened to her friend silently. She didn't know what to say, or to think. Maybe he was right. For the first time in a while, Cassandra ached with how much she missed having a mother. Mothers were supposed to teach their daughters about these things, weren't they? About love, and relationships. She wished she had a mother she could talk to about Cedric, and Adrian's situation. She couldn't fathom what her own mother would say about either, if they could talk.

"If that turns out to be the case, then we'll just get married to each other. We can sleep in separate bedrooms, and ignore each other's affairs like proper purebloods," Cassandra said. "You'll have to take my last name, though. I'm not ending my line to become a Pucey."

The two friends smiled at each other for the first time since the beginning of their conversation.

"Are you heading to class?" Adrian asked, getting up from the table. She shook her head. "All right, I'll cover for you with McGonagall. And if Snape asks, you were indisposed. Witch problems."

Some time after lunch, feeling restless and tired of pacing in the common room, Cassandra headed out to the Quidditch field.

Once she got there, she positioned the tree bludgers she had brought, under a freezing charm, in her usual practice setup - in a triangle formation, each at one edge of the enormous field. She mounted her broom and kicked off from the ground, hard. Forty feet up in the air, hovering right at the center of the triangle formed by the bludgers, she took her wand out and performed three counterspells in quick succession, aiming at the frozen iron balls. She swiftly tucked her wand into her boot, and raised her bat.

When her bat smashed against the first bludger flying at lightning-fast speed towards her face, Cassandra felt her teeth rattle. The shock of the impact felt like relief. The ball shot like a meteor away from her. Before she could watch it make its way back, she dove down quickly, in order to avoid a second bludger coming from behind her straight for her spine, that she had sensed more than seen.

She darted around the field, weaving and twisting in the air so fast she was almost a blur, escaping and hitting bludgers. It was glorious. In one especially satisfying move, she managed to stop one of the heavy iron balls speeding towards by hitting it with another, well-aimed one. When the two bludgers collided, they cracked like thunder. At one point, one of the balls hit her left shoulder painfully, almost throwing her off her broom, but she kept going.

Cassandra hit brutally and efficiently, keeping the center line that ran through her head, back and hip straight, her rear arm bent and elbow tucked in at a ninety degree angle, and used her entire body to generate power when she swinged, rather than just her arms. She wasn't as physically strong as most beaters, who were usually male, but she made up for her size with technique and speed.

She kept going for as long as she could. Her whole body ached and she was drenched in sweat, but she felt alive. She had just sent a bludger in the direction of the lake, when at the edge of her peripheral vision, she saw another one coming blindingly fast at her from her right. When she turned and raised her bat to swing, she was startled by the feeling of an iron ball colliding brutally against the middle right side of her back. She was lurched forward by the impact, and was still trying to catch her breath when the bludger she'd forgotten about hit her in the face, throwing her off her broom.

She was woken up by the feeling of something poking at her face. She opened her eyes and realized it was Klaus, perched on her breastbone, who'd been gently trying to bring her out of unconsciousness. She pet the raven gratefully. After making sure his witch was alright, he jumped from her chest to the ground, staying by her side.

She looked up at the sky, and noticed black spots swimming in her vision. She blinked a few times, trying to clear them away, and realized some of those spots were the bludgers, now flying aimlessly above her. She drew her leg up weakly and pulled her wand from her boot, then aimed a freezing spell at each of the three balls. They stopped moving and fell to the ground one by one with heavy thuds.

After a minute, she started assessing the damage from her fall. She had a split lip and her mouth tasted like blood. She propped herself up on her elbows and turned her head to spit out the blood filling up her mouth on the grass. She must've bit her tongue on her way down. Her arms and legs were sore, but otherwise fine. There was a knot forming in the back of her head, her cheekbone felt like it was going to explode, and she could feel a sharp, stabbing pain on her back. Broken rib. She could go to the infirmary and endure Madam Pomfrey's fussing while she was healed, or take one of her grandfather's bone mending potions and be miserable for the rest of the week while her other injuries healed naturally. Yeah, she would take the potion she knew was somewhere in her trunk.

Cassandra took a deep breath, wincing at the pain that accompanied the movement, and looked up at the sky again. Her body hurt, but her mind was quiet for the first time since her fight with Cedric. She watched the clouds moving slowly, enjoying the peaceful moment. The moon was visible in the sky, despite it being the middle of the afternoon. She stared at it, trying to figure out why that nagged at the back of her mind. Hagrid had said something about the sky, hadn't he? She recalled their conversation, than sat up sharply once she remembered exactly what; her broken rib screamed at her, but she ignored it. The centaurs had repeatedly told Hagrid that 'Mars was bright' that night. Centaurs were famously skilled at diving the fates through stargazing. That had to mean something.

She gathered her training equipment and walked back to the castle. On the way to Slytherin Dungeon, she passed by students who looked at her face with concern, without noticing them. She had let herself be distracted by the drama with her not-boyfriend, and forgotten what the purpose of her interrogation of the school's groundskeeper had been in the first place - to understand what was happening in Forbidden Forest, and how it might affect her and the people she cared about at Hogwarts.

After taking the bone mending potion she summoned from her trunk, she sent Klaus to find Adrian while she showered and changed robes.

"Did you bring it?" Cassandra said as she got to the sofa her friend was sitting on, waiting for her.

"Merlin, Cassandra!" Adrian shrieked once he saw her. Before she could say anything, he got up and dragged her hurriedly to a secluded space in the common room, looking around to make sure no one was paying attention to them. "Did you hurt anyone?" He asked her quietly.

"Did I hurt anyone?" Cassandra repeated.

Adrian looked at her intently, then gestured at her bruised face. "I'm guessing whoever did that to you is lying in a pool of their own blood somewhere in the castle. We can go to Snape, I'll tell him I saw them attack you first. It wouldn't be the first time someone tried."

Once Cassandra understood the meaning of Adrian's words, she wanted to hug him. "First of all, I would die for you, Pucey, know that. But we won't need to arrange any cover-ups today. I got knocked out by a bludger while I was practicing earlier. The book. Did you bring it?"

"Yeah," Adrian said. "It's on the couch."

Cassandra sat down, grabbed her friend's copy of Unfogging the Future and got to work.

"What do you need my Divination book for? You said it's a useless class," Adrian asked.

"Maybe I spoke too soon," Cassandra said distractedly while she flipped through the book's pages. When she noticed Adrian's incredulous look, she rolled her eyes. "What? I was wrong, there, I said it. There's no class you can take to become a Seer. You either are, or you aren't. But you can learn enough to be able to interpret someone else's prediction, even if you don't have the Sight. Therefore, the subject as a whole is not useless."

"Whose?" Adrian asked, grasping her reason for her sudden interest in the subject.

"The centaurs in the forest. Found it," Cassandra exclaimed, reading bits and pieces of the passage she'd been looking for aloud as she skimmed through the text. "Mars… named after the Roman god of war… rules over willpower and the urge to violence… symbolizes war, hatred, virility, masculinity…"

"That doesn't sound good," Adrian said.

"No, it doesn't," Cassandra agreed. "The centaurs kept saying that 'Mars was bright' that night. Could that have meant they had predicted violent acts were going to be committed?"

"A unicorn was killed, and your cousin said whatever did it tried to go for Harry Potter. Those are violent acts," Adrian said.

"Whoever did it," Cassandra corrected him. "You know what I don't get? Centaurs are supposed to be territorial to the point of violence, but they let a dark wizard roam their forest murdering innocent creatures at will? It doesn't make sense."

"Maybe they're scared of this dark wizard. You said it would take someone seriously twisted to drink unicorn blood to stay alive," Adrian replied.

"An entire herd afraid of one wizard on the brink of death?" Cassandra mused. "I don't think so. There has to be another reason."

"We could ask Professor Trelawney," Adrian suggested. "Even if she's not a real Seer, she might know what the thing about Mars means. Or how centaurs choose to go about acting on their predictions. She's been teaching that class for ages."

After they knocked on her office door, the teacher greeted the two students with a glazed look in her eyes, saying she had expected them all afternoon. If that was the case, Cassandra thought when she stepped into the room, she could've aired out the place a little. As it was, heavy curtains blocked out the sunlight, and loose colored fabrics were thrown haphazardly over pieces of gaudy, old-fashioned furniture. Candles floated above them, creating shadows that moved randomly around the dimly lit room. With the addition of the sickly sweet scent that permeated the space, the Divination professor's office was an onslaught to the senses.

It took very little time in the presence of Sybill Trelawney for them to realize she would be of no help at all. The witch spoke in a soft, ethereal voice, and talked circles around the subjects Cassandra brought up, without ever giving a direct answer to her questions. She regurgitated the explanation on the influence of Mars that could be found in the book used in her class, didn't seem to know much about centaurs, and spent an inordinate amount of time talking about her great-great-grandmother, a famous Seer with whom Cassandra apparently shared her first name.

"She's a loon," Cassandra mouthed to Adrian behind the teacher's back. She had insisted on making them tea, so she could read their fates in the dregs before they went back to their common room, and was blabbing about the oncoming death of a Ravenclaw girl she had apparently foretold at the beginning of the school year. Adrian snorted silently and nodded his head in agreement.

They politely drank the tea, swirled the dregs, per Professor Trelawney's instructions, then drained their cups and handed them to her. She started with Adrian's, staring into the teacup while rotating it clockwise.

"A very interesting cup," The teacher said softly. "A frog… that means a significant spiritual transformation is coming."

Cassandra and Adrien hummed, pretending to be greatly interested in what she said.

"A pair of glasses… you are being fooled by someone close to you," she continued.

"Wow," Adrian said sardonically. Cassandra pressed her lips tight to keep herself from laughing.

"And a knife… there is someone in your life who doesn't belong there, dear. I do believe you will experience an extraordinary improvement in your spirits once you eliminate a traitorous friend from your circle, Mr. Pucey," the Divination teacher said pointedly. Cassandra smiled to herself, wondering if she was supposed to be this traitorous friend.

"I will, professor, of course," Adrian replied.

"Now to your fate, Ms. Lestrange," Professor Trelawney said in her dreamlike tone. She lifted the second teacup in the air and rotated it delicately for a moment, gazing at its bottom. Cassandra and Adrian were sharing an amused look when they were startled by the sound of breaking china. Cassandra looked back at Trelawney, who was now staring lifelessly at her, teacup no longer in her hands. When she spoke, the guttural sound of her voice made the hair on the back of Cassandra's neck stand up. "Cassandra Lestrange… Forced into battle, the war's greatest killer you'll become… Twice you'll lose your family, and twice you'll choose your targets in those you find responsible for the slaughter of your loved ones… Bound in a covenant, only death will undo the knot you join in."

At once, Trelawney seemed to wake up from her trance. "Oh!" The Seer exclaimed. "I seem to have dropped your teacup, how clumsy of me. Maybe we can leave your reading for another time? You can always come by my office, I do love visits."

Cassandra stared at the teacher, speechless.

"Holy shit," Adrian said.

Chapter Text

"Cassandra Lestrange… Forced into battle, the war's greatest killer you'll become… Twice you'll lose your family, and twice you'll choose your targets in those you find responsible for the slaughter of your loved ones… Bound in a covenant, only death will undo the knot you join in."

Those words kept ringing in Cassandra's ears. There was a war coming. She would lose her family twice, somehow. And she would become a killer. A killer like her father and her uncle Rabastan. A killer like her mother, Bellatrix Lestrange, who'd once called herself the Dark Lord's most faithful servant, in front of the entire Wizengamot. Cassandra thought about how horrified she'd been, at eight years old, when she'd read transcripts of the Death Eater trials from the war, that she'd asked her grandfather to get copies of. Before coming to Hogwarts, she used to re-read them every year on her birthday. Back then, she had wanted to remind herself of all the terrible things that had been done in the name of the cause her family had been so utterly devoted to, all the reasons why she shouldn't miss their presence in her life. But fate had decided that none of the lessons she'd tried to teach herself, about right and wrong and what lines shouldn't be crossed, would help her. In the end, Cassandra Lestrange would prove herself her mother's daughter.

She knew it wasn't a matter of if the prophecy would come true, only of when. Many witches and wizards, herself included, harbored a general distrust of divination. Most practitioners of the art were either clever charlatans or hopeless fools. But not even the most skeptical would dismiss a prophecy given by a true Seer. It was common knowledge that the word of prophecies always held importance, even if that importance wasn't easily or immediately apparent. Her only hope was a bastard hope, that Sybill Trelawney wasn't a real Seer, but a mad teacher playing a cruel joke at her expense.

After Trelawney had said those blasted words, Cassandra had run back to the dungeons, Adrian hot in her heels. They had argued wordlessly in the Slytherin common room, but he'd understood she needed time by herself to process what had happened, and let her go to her dorm room without too much protest. She had immediately written a letter to her grandfather detailing exactly what had happened, and summoned Mimi to deliver it to him. She sat in her bed, right leg bouncing frantically as she waited for his reply. It came two hours later in a letter given to her by Mimi, who, sensing her distress, insisted on staying by her Mistress' side as she read it.

My dear child,

I have verified that Sybill Trelawney is in fact the great-great-granddaughter of a genuine Seer by the name of Cassandra Trelawney. The trance-like state in which she communicated and her failure to remember speaking the words after coming out of it also seem to indicate this prophecy might be authentic, according to the specialist I have reached out to.

He also informed me there has long been rumor of a chamber within the Ministry of Magic - most likely, in the Department of Mysteries, where records of all true prophecies made in Britain are supposedly archived. I will look further into this, and find out if such a system exists, and if so, whether the subject of a prophecy might inquire as to the existence of an equivalent record. I will write to you again as soon as I have this information.

I do not believe you need to be told this, but I encourage you to exercise discretion in regards to this matter, for your own protection. Focus on finishing your school year. We will deal with this situation soon enough.

Your grandfather,

Cygnus Black III

Cassandra put the parchment down, grabbed a pillow to bury her face in, then bit it as hard as she could to stop herself from screaming. She stayed like that for a long time, face-down in her bed, her entire body coiled with tension. Her hope of the Divination teacher being a fraud was squashed by her grandfather's words.

After a while, she felt the soft bristles of a hairbrush caressing her scalp.

"Mimi will take care of her Mistress," the house-elf said firmly, while brushing her hair. With every gentle brush, Cassandra felt a little bit of tension leaving her body. "Mimi will protect her, just like she did when we was keeping the nosy wizards out of the house. Mimi won't let anyone hurt her Mistress Cassandra."

The witch let herself be lulled by the familiar comfort of Mimi's care, feeling her heart ache in her chest. "Will you sleep here with me tonight, Mimi? Like we used to do when I was little?" Cassandra asked, with her eyes still closed.

"Mimi would be most pleased to. But Mistress will stop being so sad, or she'll break Mimi's heart," the house-elf replied.

"I'm not sad, Mimi," Cassandra said quietly, "I'm scared."

The next day, Cassandra decided she would heed her grandfather's advice, and go back to attending her classes. Exams would happen very soon, and she might as well focus on that for the time being. She had just finished braiding and pinning up her hair, and was wondering if she should go to Madam Pomfrey for a bruise pomade to erase the black eye she'd gotten as a courtesy from the bludger that had knocked her out the day before, when she heard someone banging impatiently on the bathroom door.

"What?" She snapped at her dorm mate.

"Prefect Farley wants to talk to you." The girl replied in a bored tone.

Cassandra rolled her eyes. She was probably going to be questioned about her absences. When she stepped out of her dorm room, Gemma Farley was leaning against a wall, looking bored. The fifth year raised an eyebrow at Cassandra's bruised face, but didn't comment on it.

"There's a Hufflepuff boy outside the common room entrance asking for you, and he's about to get hexed," the prefect said.

"Thank you," Cassandra said and took off in that direction, not waiting for a reply. What was Cedric thinking, loitering outside the Slytherin common room? There were many of her housemates whose favorite pastime was harassing students from the other Houses, Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs especially. A Hufflepuff walking up to the hidden entrance would be seen as a challenge by many of them. The thought of a six or seventh year attacking Cedric made her walk even faster.

She recognized Cassius Warrington first. He had Cedric against a wall, his wand under the Hufflepuff's chin. Lucian Bole and Peregrine Derrick, two fourth years that she had competed against for her position as Slytherin Beater for two years in a row with success, flanked the boy she sat besides during Care of Magical Creatures. Cassius seemed to be taunting Cedric, who was looking at him stoically, not responding to the provocations. There was a small crowd gathering around them, watching. She walked quietly until she stood a step behind the three Slytherins hounding Cedric.

"Do you really think-" Cassius sneered.

"What?" Cassandra interrupted. Every single head in the corridor turned to look at her. "Does he think what, Warrington?"

Cassius turned to look at her, still keeping his wand under Cedric's chin and his left hand on his chest, pressing him against the wall. She ignored her classmate and locked eyes with Cedric. His eyes traveled from her black eye to her split lip, and he frowned. She tried to ask him if he was ok with a look, and he nodded slightly, reassuring her.

"Diggory here was looking for you. Says he's your boyfriend," Cassius said. "I don't know if you've been slumming, Cassandra, but you should tell your pet he better know his place."

In one smooth, practiced movement, Cassandra took a step forward and with her left hand, grabbed Cassius by the back of his neck, pressing her thumb and the tip of her middle finger painfully down on the base of his head. In the same continuous movement, she quickly took advantage of the body spasm caused by the pain of her hold to snatch Warrington's wand from his right hand with hers, while kicking against the back of his knee to make him drop to the ground.

In about two seconds, Cassandra had Cassius Warrington on his knees, his muscles tensing with the pain caused by the relentless pressure she was exerting over the nerves in the back of his neck, while she pointed his own wand at his head. She ordered the two fourth years who had been aiding him to step back, and once they did, turned herself and Cassius around until she stood with her back against Cedric's front, shielding him from the small crowd watching them.

"Just for the record, Warrington, Cedric is my boyfriend," she said. "But you already knew that, didn't you? Or do you think I haven't noticed the way you stare at me when him and I are together?"

When Cassius didn't say anything, she pressed down on his neck harder. He gasped. "He's not good enough for you," the boy said, his voice wavering.

The words made her hackles rise. "And you think you are?" She giggled mockingly. "I am the last scion of the Lestrange family, and an heir of the House of Black. The wealth and purity of my lines can be traced back to the Middle Ages. You're nothing, Warrington. A nobody from a family of nobodies. So you better know your place."

She released her grip on Cassius' neck, shoving him forward so he sprawled on the floor. He got up quickly, backing into the crowd and looking at her hatefully. "This is a warning to every single person in this House," she said, addressing the Slytherin students looking at her. "Cedric Diggory is my boyfriend. You insult him, and I'll consider it an insult against me. You attack him, and I'll retaliate. You know who my parents are. You've heard what I can do. Whatever horrible things you fear someone doing to you, I promise I can do worse."

Right then, she felt one of Cedric's hands on the middle of her back, steadying. She used the feeling of his palm between her shoulder blades to anchor herself, letting go of the anger that was pumping through her blood, red and hot. She dropped Warrington's wand at his feet and reached back to offer Cedric her hand. Once he accepted it, and she led them through the crowd, up the stairs and out of Slytherin Dungeon wordlessly.

She kept walking with him by her side, their hands clasped, until they were out of the castle. When they reached the shade of a tree where they were sure no one would overhear them, Cedric turned to her, and held her face in his hands, methodically checking out her cuts and bruises. She kept her look trained in his eyes, trying to anticipate what he was going to say to her.

His thumb ghosted over her bruised eye socket.

"What happened?" He asked.

Cassandra closed her eyes, unable to handle the concern in his tone.

"Nothing," she said, "I'm okay."

"No you're not," Cedric said, and he sounded so sure, as though he knew her so well he could tell exactly how she was feeling, and Cassandra desperately wanted for that to be the case. She stood there, unwilling to lie and incapable of telling him the truth, for a moment that seemed to stretch until it felt like eternity, and then he kissed her.

Cedric pulled her closer by the hands he still had on either side of her face, but kept his lips still against hers. She was the one who wrapped her arms around him and deepened the kiss, pressing her lips harder against his, trying to tell him everything she felt. His fingers dipped into her hair, and she brought their bodies even closer, as close as she could with the both of them standing up.

After a while, Cassandra pulled back, just enough that their lips were no longer touching.

"Please don't hate me," she whispered.

Cedric sighed deeply, kissed the corner of her mouth once, then took a step back. "For a very smart witch, you can be unbelievably dense sometimes, Cassandra. I've been worried sick about you. I kept looking for you hoping we could talk, but I couldn't find you anywhere. Then yesterday, someone told me they'd seen you and that you looked hurt, and you have a bloody black eye. Tell me what happened."

"You shouldn't have gone to the dungeons, Cedric," she said. "If I hadn't gotten there in time-"

"I would've handled it," Cedric said fiercely. "We may have different ways of dealing with things, but I am not helpless. You haven't been to class in days, and I couldn't come up with any other way to see you. I even followed Klaus around to see if he'd lead me to you. Now stop avoiding the subject; how did you get hurt?"

"I caught a bludger with my face during practice. I was going to see Madam Pomfrey today. It's nothing," she said.

He digested that information for a moment. "So all this time, you were avoiding me," he concluded.

"No. Yes. I just…" Cassandra tried to answer, not getting anywhere. When Cedric noticed her wringing her hands anxiously, his face fell.

"Please, just tell me the truth," he pleaded.

She flicked her gaze up to him, and saw herself reflected in his eyes. She didn't look powerful or strong at all, as she had felt during her confrontation with Warrington, but embarrassed and vulnerable. Ready to bolt at a moment's notice, because apparently dealing with her feelings for Cedric was just too hard for her. It was an ugly image, and she hated herself for her weakness.

"I didn't want... I wasn't ready for you to end our… this thing that's going on between us," Cassandra said. "But I'm ready now. You can do it."

"You called me your boyfriend in front of Professor Kettleburn the other day. And again in front of half of your House just now," Cedric replied.

Of course he would be offended at being publicly claimed like an object, or a helpless pet. She certainly would've been, in his place. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"I am," he said before she could finish. "I am your boyfriend. Actually, boyfriend doesn't even begin to cover what I want to be for you. You own me, Cassandra. From the moment I saw you being carried out of that forest covered in blood, half-dead because you were willing to do whatever it took to save a wounded unicorn, you've owned me. I wouldn't care if you shouted that to the entire Great Hall, because it's the truth. I would gladly wear a 'Property of Cassandra Lestrange' pin on my robes if it got you to talk things through with me for once. So don't you dare use that as an excuse to run away."

"Is that what you think I'm going to do?" she asked weakly.

"It's what you do every time you do something you think I'll hate you for. You run away from me, so I don't have the chance to leave you like your parents did," he said.

Cassandra felt those words like a bludger to the chest. That had been the formative experience of her childhood: The two people who should've loved her the most abandoning her in the name of a lost cause. Growing up, she had often wondered what made her less lovable than other children like her cousin Draco, whose parents had chosen to lie about their true allegiances not to be thrown in Azkaban after the end of the war. She focused on trying not to cry. She wanted to hurt Cedric, and then to kiss him, for understanding this about her. Merlin, she wished he didn't sound so kind while saying something like that. It was like he was a Healer, and she was his hysterical patient with her damaged mind being examined.

"You should leave me. You have to!" she cried, trying to convince him, as well as herself.

"Why? You're reckless and aggressive, but that's only a part of who you are, that I can live with." Cedric said. "After what you did for me earlier, you think I would ever leave you? There is nothing you can say or do that would make me walk away from you. Because I'm in love with you, Cassandra."

She wanted to laugh at how bitterly unfair it was for him to say those things to her, especially when her strongest urge was to blurt out something absolutely horrible, like you mean everything to me. You mean everything to me, and there's this prophecy that says one day I'll become a killer, and I'm terrified you'll hate me then. Because I love you, too. I love you.

And the worst thing about it was that that was the first time Cassandra realized just how much she did love him. Right there, in the middle of an argument that she wasn't even sure qualified as an argument, because at the end of it Cedric said something that almost made her heart burst.

"I'm not like them, you know. I have no cause, no ambition that matters more to me than you. So if you want to run, run. I won't sit back and let you slip away, like you never existed. I'll fight for you. I'll always fight for you," he said.

It was funny, really, that the most romantic thing Cassandra ever heard someone say made her break down in painful sobs.

"I have to tell you something," she said through tears.

Chapter Text

It was the weekend after the end of exams, and the whole castle was abuzz with speculation about what exactly had happened between Harry Potter and their now dead Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Cassandra had received the news about the incident with the same detachment that colored most of her thoughts lately. She now realized that Professor Quirrell must've been the person killing unicorns in the Forbidden Forest. How likely was it that two evil wizards would be roaming the grounds of Hogwarts at the same time, after all? Besides, the teacher had seemed increasingly worn down and sickly as the school year progressed, which accounted for the need of unicorn blood to forestall his death. It all fit neatly.

That he had met his end without need of her interference, at the hands of the boy-who-lived, was a neat resolution to the issue that Cassandra was grateful for. Before, the prospect of dueling a wizard twisted enough to leech off unicorns to keep himself alive wouldn't have cowed her, but now the words of the prophecy hung ominously over her head. She had never believed hurting someone in self-defense or in the defense of others made one evil, but being marked as a future mass murderer had been making her hesitant to use offensive magic. She had realized that when Adrian had asked her why she'd chosen to subdue Cassius Warrington physically rather than magically - it was much harder to kill someone without using a wand.

The only good thing to come out of the entire prophecy ordeal so far was that Cassandra and Cedric's relationship had been, much to her surprise, strengthened rather than destroyed once he was made aware of the prediction. The more she'd insisted that he should distance himself from her, the more unwavering he'd become in his decision not to. The tidings of fate were no match for the Hufflepuff's loyalty. Instead, Cedric had taken it upon himself to help his girlfriend in her journey not to become the version of herself she saw in her nightmares.

That was one of the reasons why he was half-walking, half-dragging her to Professor Sprout's office on a Saturday afternoon.

"I can't believe you talked me into doing this," Cassandra grumbled.

"It was your idea in the first place," Cedric said, unfazed by her complaining.

"Which I would've never gone through with if you hadn't talked to Sprout behind my back," Cassandra huffed. She was so nervous her palms were sweating, and she was still contemplating an escape plan even as they approached the greenhouses.

Cedric held her by the elbow gently, bringing her to a halt. "We both know you want to do this, otherwise you wouldn't have asked for my opinion on it. So I meddled, because I do believe this is going to be good for you. But if you're not ready for it yet, we can call it off. I'll talk to Professor Sprout, and I'm sure she'll understand."

He took her cold, clammy hand in his, stretching her fingers and rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. Cassandra hadn't realized how tightly she'd been clenching her fists, and while he caressed the indentation marks her fingernails had left on her palm, she slowed down her breaths and focused on easing up the tension with which she was holding herself up, thinking about his words.

"No," she finally replied. "You're right. I want to do this, I do. I'm just…"

"It's going to be ok," Cedric offered. She nodded, and pulled him to her, wrapping her arms around his middle. He kissed her forehead, hugging her tightly. "I promise you, it's going to be ok. What's the worst that can happen? An eleven year old tells you off? You've handled worse."

"I've handled worse," Cassandra repeated to herself. Cedric smiled at her encouragingly, and she couldn't not kiss him.

"You know," she said after his mouth left hers, "Adrian would've just told me to stop being such a pussy, and I would've shut up and done it just to spite him."

"Well, Adrian is not your boyfriend," Cedric replied.

"Thank Merlin for that," Cassandra said. "Come on, Professor Sprout must be waiting for us."

The good-natured Herbology teacher was, in fact, waiting for them outside the greenhouse that served as her office when they arrived. She greeted her two students warmly, then turned to Cassandra, a grave expression on her face.

"Cassandra, are you sure about this?" Professor Sprout asked, seeming concerned. "You have always behaved in an exemplary manner in my presence, which is why I agreed to arrange this when Cedric approached me, but I must tell you that the idea was met with quite a bit of resistance by Mr. Longbottom's Head of House. It was only Professor Dumbledore's interference that convinced Minerva to allow this. Neville is a kind boy, and very talented in my subject, but also very sensitive. He doesn't have your mettle yet. I need you to assure me you'll take every precaution not to needlessly upset him."

"I understand, professor," Cassandra replied. "The last thing I want to do is cause him any distress. I promise you I'll be as considerate as I know how. And you may feel free to listen in our conversation, if that'll reassure you."

The plump teacher smiled at her. "I believe you. I know you're a good girl. Just be careful, alright?"

She nodded, took a deep steadying breath, and walked into the office. Neville Longbottom, round-faced and nervous-looking, was sitting on a chair, looking at her as if she was going to snap and lunge for him at the first opportunity. She said hello and asked if she could take a seat. The boy nodded shakily, not saying anything.

"Do you know who I am?" Cassandra asked, not knowing where else to start. He nodded again, still silent. Her hands started sweating again. "I imagine it must've been hard for you to agree to this, considering- well, thank you for agreeing to meet me, is what I'm trying to say."

"Y-you're welcome," Neville stuttered. He was still looking at her with trepidation, but she was relieved that he didn't intend to listen to her without saying anything the entire time.

"I've wanted to do this from the beginning of the school year, but I didn't have the courage, I guess, to go through with it until now," she said.

"To do what?" Neville asked skittishly.

"To say that I'm sorry. About what my family did to your parents," Cassandra said, and watched the blood drain from the young wizard's face. Her heart sank, and she continued talking, trying to convey the sincerity in her words. "You don't have to accept my apology. That's not why I'm here, to use you to clear my own conscience. You can hate me as much and for as long as you want, if it makes you feel even a little bit better. I certainly would, in your place. I just- It's not fair. To you. That you should have to go to school with me, and see me in the halls, and not know if I take some perverse pride in the whole thing. I don't. It's horrible and unforgivable, what my family did, and I'll never stop being ashamed of it. I just wanted you to know that. That even if they were never sorry for it, I am."

Cassandra discreetly wiped a tear that was escaping from the corner of her eye, and watched Neville do the same, rubbing his teary eyes with his sleeve. He was staring at the floor, his lower lip trembling.

"Thank you," he said after a while.

She swallowed down the lump in her throat. She wasn't going to cry. This was about him, not her. "If you ever need anything, if there's ever anything I can do for you, please feel free to reach out to me. Is there- do you have anything you want to ask me?"

Neville looked up at her. "Do you mind if I tell my gran about this?"

Cassandra thought about the Longbottom matriarch, who'd had her son and daughter-in-law turned into little more than shells of their former selves, and her grandson virtually orphaned because of her family. "No. I don't mind it at all."

Neville nodded again and got up from his chair. She remained seated, waiting for him to leave the room before she could let herself feel the wave of emotions she could feel building in her chest. She was so focused on that, she almost missed the quiet, tremulous words the boy said to her before shutting the door behind him.

"I- I don't hate you."

At the end-of-year feast, Cassandra was in such a good mood she invited her cousin to sit by her side, alongside the rest of the Slytherin Quidditch team. Draco hung onto every word their proud captain spoke about the game play that had won them the Quidditch Cup for the fifth year in a row, in turn helping Slytherin win the House Cup for the seventh year in a row. The entire Great Hall was decorated in silver and green, and even Professor Snape lacked his usual sour expression, which only returned once Harry Potter walked in and sat down at the Gryffindor table.

When Dumbledore announced their win, the entire Slytherin table broke out in cheers. Cassandra lifted her goblet in the air, and smiled when she saw Adrian trying not to blush when he was hugged by an enthusiastic Flint. "Seven in a row, baby! Wheeeew!" She heard someone exclaiming, and was about to cheer again when she heard what the headmaster was saying.

"...recent events must be taken into account," Dumbledore finished. Her smile faded, as did the rest of her teammates'. When the headmaster finished awarding Gryffindor points for the events that had resulted in Professor Quirrell's death, the other Houses' students erupted in deafening celebration, while Slytherins loudly protested.

"Come on!" Adrian said angrily besides her. "If I'd known killing a teacher would get us that many house points, we could've offed Trelawney weeks ago!"

That year, Cassandra's train ride back to King Cross was a lot different from her past ones. Instead of closing herself in a cabin with Adrian and other Slytherins, she shared a cabin with her best friend, Cedric Diggory and the Weasley twins. Cassandra was leaning against Cedric, who had his arm around her shoulders. He smiled at her when she laced her fingers with his, and pulled her even closer. Adrian was sitting in front of her, talking to the twins, who were loudly celebrating their win of the annual bet made by students on the fate met by their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

"I can't believe the two of you bet Harry Potter would kill our DADA teacher, and actually won!" Adrian exclaimed.

The Weasleys smiled sardonically, while Cassandra and Cedric chuckled at Adrian's aggravated expression.

"He's the boy-who-lived," George shrugged.

"We met him boarding the train, and it seemed like something the bloke should be able to do, right George? What's a Defense teacher against you-know-who?" Fred said.

"Right you are, Fred," the other twin replied.

"How much did you win?" Cedric asked, curious. He had confessed to never have partaken on the wager, to the other students' surprise.

"A hundred galleons!" The duo replied enthusiastically, and Cedric whistled.

"Sounds like you two are going to have a pretty good summer," Cassandra said. "By the way, what did you end up doing with the vials of polyjuice I gave you for Yule?"

"Oh, we haven't used it yet." George said. "But we did manage to find a couple of Snape's hairs on the floor of the Potions classroom."

"One of us will probably slip in our little brother Ron's bed one night and give him a beautiful sight to wake up to," Fred said, and the entire cabin laughed. "What about you, Cassie? Any plans for the summer?"

"My grandfather and I usually travel abroad for a week or two right after I get back, but I have tutoring lessons from the middle of July until the beginning of next term. I'm hoping Cedric will join me for some of those," she said, squeezing her boyfriend's hand.

"She's really got you on a leash, huh mate?" George said.

"And I couldn't be happier about it," Cedric replied, and turned his head to kiss her cheek.

"You two are revolting," Adrian said, and yelped when Cassandra kicked him in the shin.

When they got to the platform, Cassandra said goodbye to her friends, promising to write them during the summer break, and waited with Cedric for his parents.

"They are really excited to meet you," Cedric said to her. "Just don't mind my dad, ok? He's a good guy, but he's always putting his foot in his mouth. If he starts talking about marriage-"

Cassandra laughed. "Believe me, it won't take long for that subject to come up with my grandfather either. I'm supposed to invite you and your parents to have dinner with us 'at your earliest convenience'. He'll probably get you into his study alone at some point to ask you about your intentions towards his granddaughter."

"That's not going to be a problem. I'll have you know most of them are very noble," Cedric said, pulling her closer by the arm he had around her shoulders.

"Only most of them? What about the rest?" Cassandra asked, grabbing the front of his sweater and bringing his mouth to hers.

"Oh, those? Those are absolutely filthy. Horrible, really." Cedric said cheekily, and laughed when she kissed him, her arms around his neck. Happy and lost in the moment, Cassandra parted her lips, deepening the kiss. They were so wrapped up in each other, they completely missed the two adults staring at them, amused by their very public display of affection. When they heard a loud cough, the couple jerked apart as if hit with a stinging hex.

"Dad! Mom!" Cedric exclaimed.

"Mr. Diggory, Mrs. Diggory," Cassandra said awkwardly, trying to seem composed.

Mr. Diggory was almost a head shorter than his son, but both shared the same blue-grey eyes and kind smile, which immediately eased Cassandra's tension at being caught making out with her boyfriend by his parents. Mrs. Diggory, however, was clearly the one Cedric got his good looks from. Tall and slender, the witch had sharp, chiseled features and the same warm brown hair as her son.

"No need to be embarrassed, kids. We've all been there, haven't we, honey?" Mr. Diggory said, looking at his wife. "Oh, the joys of young love."

"Dad…" Cedric pleaded.

"Don't mind your father, dear." Mrs. Diggory said. She smiled at Cassandra. "It's very nice to meet you, Miss Lestrange. Cedric's told us a lot about you."

"Please, call me Cassandra. It's very nice to meet you as well. I might be a little biased, but you've raised a wonderful son." Cassandra replied.

"That's our Ced, always a gentleman! Except when he's kissing beautiful young witches in train stations, that is." Mr. Diggory said with a wink, and Cedric blushed. "Is your grandfather coming to collect you, Cassandra? I don't know if he remembers, but we've met a few times over at the Ministry."

"Grandfather isn't a fan of crowds, so I'll call for one of our house-elves to take me home," she said. "And yes, he's mentioned meeting you. As a matter of fact, he wanted me to relay an invitation for dinner at our house, as soon as would be convenient for you. He's eager to meet Cedric, and you as well, Mrs. Diggory."

"Isn't that something?" Mr. Diggory said merrily. "The Diggorys invited to dinner at Lestrange Manor. Your family name might not carry the weight it used to, with the terrible business of your parents in Azkaban and all, but still-"

"What my husband means to say, Cassandra," Mrs. Diggory interrupted, "is that we would be very happy to attend dinner with you and your grandfather. Owl us with a date and time, and we'll be there. We'll let the two of you say your goodbyes."

"I am so sorry about that," Cedric said once his parents were out of earshot.

"It's alright. It could've been a lot worse. At least they don't hate me," Cassandra said honestly. "Write me soon."

"I will," Cedric said with a smile, and kissed her one last time.

Cassandra waved the Diggorys goodbye and called for Mimi, who promptly took her home. Her grandfather had instructed the house-elf to tell her to wash up and meet him in his study, which she did at once. She realized something was wrong as soon as she saw him. He was sitting back in his chair, so lost in thought he didn't notice her until she knocked on the open door to get his attention.

"Come in, Cassandra. Take a seat," her grandfather said.

"Is everything alright?" She said. "Is it about the prophecy?"

"I scheduled a meeting with a representative from the Department of Mysteries for next week. They will only confirm the existence of a prophecy archive to a subject of one of said prophecies, so you will be coming as well." The Black patriarch said. He sighed deeply, and for a moment looked tired and old, older than he had ever seemed to Cassandra. "But that is not what's on my mind. I have received some troubling news, that I believe are directly related to what's been foretold."

"What news?" Cassandra asked anxiously.

"Severus Snape met with Lucius and Narcissa last night, and your aunt flooed me afterwards to talk about what was said. The incident at your school, with the teacher and the Potter boy, wasn't a chance attack made by a deranged wizard. It was proof of something I've feared since I heard your prophecy, that means its events might come true sooner rather than later," he said, looking at her in a manner that seemed almost apologetic.

Cassandra's hands were shaking. She wanted to beg him to stop talking, and spare her from whatever knowledge he'd gained since they had last spoken. She didn't want to know what had happened to Harry Potter, that might be the catalysis for her transformation into a killer. But she was a Lestrange, and whatever else Lestranges were, they were not cowards. She sat quietly, and waited for her grandfather to finish speaking. When he did, the words he uttered made her entire body go cold, and her heart disappear into her chest.

"Cassandra… the Dark Lord is not dead."