Chapter Text

August 7th 1993

The Yorkshire countryside was quiet that morning, dew still clinging to the grass around the crooked little cottage. Inside, Cassie pressed a cool cloth to the fresh gash across Remus’s shoulder. He winced, but the corner of his mouth tugged into a smile.

“Not too bad last night. This one happened when you couldn’t see me,” she said, tugging her wand from the loop she’d stitched into her trousers—a small modification she’d made so she could keep it close at hand.

Remus let out a tired sigh. “It still amazes me you did that.”

“Did what?” Cassie asked, flicking her wand. Gauze wound itself neatly around his shoulder.

“Kept a mandrake leaf in your mouth for a month. Sat straight through an electrical storm. Endured pain most grown wizards wouldn’t dare. And studied the process until you fell asleep on your books.” Remus ticked them off like items on a parchment, his tone half-admonishing, half-amused.

Cassie rolled her eyes as she gathered up the gauze and damp cloth. “You make it sound so much worse than it was. If the Marauders could do it, why couldn’t I?”

Remus chuckled. “Merlin, ‘the Marauders’ sounds so cheesy now.”

Cassie laughed too, tossing the cloth into the sink. “Who even came up with it?” she asked, dragging out the chair beside him and sinking into it.

Remus’s smile faltered. He swallowed, eyes shifting away. “Sirius,” he muttered.

Cassie tilted her head, a sigh slipping past her lips. The look she gave him was equal parts exasperation and concern. “Moony…”

Remus hummed, finally turning back to her.

“I know what he did was unforgivable,” she said, her voice soft, careful not to upset him, “but it’s been twelve years.”

Remus’s jaw tightened. “He’s the reason they’re dead. He’s the reason you never got to meet your cousin, your aunt, your uncle. And what if…” His voice broke slightly before he forced himself to finish. “What if he was connected to your parents, too?”

Cassie’s breath caught. That was something she hadn’t considered.

“You knew him,” she said, meeting his eyes.

“Not as much as I thought,” Remus admitted, his voice low.

For a few moments, the cottage was silent. Sunlight pooled on the worn wooden floor, and the faint smell of herbs lingered in the air.

“I assessed everything. That gash is all that’s there,” she said quietly. “Let me know if you need anything, but what you need most is sleep.”

Remus smiled at her. “As do you. Dark circles, Miss Great-Eared Nightjar,” he teased.

Cassie batted his hand away. “I was eleven, Moony. It was the only animal that looked even remotely like a dragon without actually being one.”

Remus lifted his hands in mock surrender, a grin tugging at his lips. “It’s cool, I swear.”

Cassie smirked. “Well, it’s not like I can change it now. Better than a scruffy old wolf-man,” she teased.

He pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. “This scruffy old wolf has kept you fed, clothed, and trained in more defensive charms than most Aurors know.”

Cassie grinned. “And I’m eternally grateful. But you’ll never win a contest of majestic Animagi, Moony. Sorry.”

Remus gave a long-suffering sigh, though his eyes crinkled with amusement. “Merlin help me, you sound more like James every day.”

“Good. Someone’s got to keep you from brooding.”

Remus shook his head, chuckling under his breath. “Merlin, you’re insufferable.”

“And you,” she said, standing and brushing off her hands, “are exhausted. Bed. Now.”

“I’m fine,” Remus tried, but when he reached for the cane propped against the chair, the stiffness in his movements betrayed him.

Cassie was already there, slipping an arm under his and steadying him as he rose. “Fine, huh?” she teased gently.

He gave her a wry look as he leaned on the cane. “All right, maybe not fine. Just… mostly fine.”

“Mm-hm. And mostly fine still needs sleep.” She guided him toward the hall, her tone mock-stern. “Healer’s orders.”

Remus allowed himself to be steered, a small smile lingering on his face. “Bossy. Just like your mother.”

Cassie bit the inside of her cheek, warmth and ache tangled together in her chest. “Then I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It is,” Remus said softly. “You’re the perfect mix of your mum, your dad… and Lily.”

“And you,” Cassie added without hesitation.

He huffed a laugh. “Don’t flatter me.”

Cassie arched a brow at him. “Remus, you’ve raised me for twelve years. Did you really think I wouldn’t pick up some of you along the way?”

Remus shook his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth despite himself. “Merlin help you, then.”

Arriving at the narrow hallway between their rooms, Cassie gestured toward Remus’s. “Sleep, Moony,” she said gently.

He gave her a tired smile, eyes already heavy. “You sound more like your mother every day.”

Cassie lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching him settle under the blankets before quietly pulling the door closed.

She turned back, slipping into her own room, the soft creak of the floorboards the only sound in the quiet cottage.

Cassie’s room was a cozy chaos of color and memory, the kind of space that felt completely her own. Her bed sat in the center, draped with a patchwork quilt she had stitched herself, each square a tiny story. To the right of the doorway stood a small dresser, its top crowded with trinkets, old photographs—some moving, some still—and the occasional odd charm she’d picked up along the way.

In the left corner, a towering wall-mounted bookcase leaned just slightly, groaning under the weight of countless books; one more volume and it might topple entirely. Her night table was no more than a precarious stack of books beside the bed, each one serving double duty as decoration and bedside reading.

Her walls were a gallery of her own paintings, interspersed with strings of fairy lights that cast a warm, twinkling glow. Paper butterflies—cut from old book pages— band posters and polaroids fluttered across the surfaces, adding to the eclectic charm. A record player perched on a side table, with its collection of records stacked neatly in storage below, ready to fill the room with music at a moment’s notice.

To the right of her bed, a small desk was a hive of healing supplies: jars of herbs, bundles of dried plants, and open encyclopedias stacked on the floor and the desk alike, a testament to the care she poured into her work. Every inch of the room whispered of her curiosity, her creativity, and the life she had built for herself in the little Yorkshire cottage.

Sighing at the sight of her bed, Cassie let herself flop face-first onto it. Her wand pressed uncomfortably into her hip, and with a soft grunt, she fished it from the belt loop and dropped it onto the quilt beside her. She wriggled upward, trying to get comfortable, but after hours in jeans—comfortable enough for normal wear, but not designed for twenty-four-hour stints—they felt all the more restrictive.

She groaned at the thought of moving, but slipping into something more comfortable made it slightly more bearable. Wriggling to the edge of the bed, she let herself slide onto the floor. She sat there for a moment before crawling across the room to her dresser and heaving herself up. Digging through a drawer, she pulled out a worn Zeppelin shirt, soft and faded from countless washes—probably Sirius’s.

She held it up, a small ache blooming in her chest. She missed Sirius. Honestly, she did. She understood now why Remus carried so much bitterness toward him—that he had caused so much heartbreak—but he had also been a huge influence on her life.

From ages one to three, Cassie’s parents had left her at Uncle Moony and Uncle Pad’s London townhouse. She'd always had fun with them but what she remembered most was a game they’d played together, which Sirius had named Shooting Star—of course he had. It involved Padfoot dashing around the ground floor with Cassie on his back while Remus tried to catch them. She and Sirius always won.

Grabbing a pair of shorts and heading for the bathroom, Cassie smiled at the memory, warmth and nostalgia mingling with the faint sting of missing him.

Sirius had also been her first real example of an Animagus. When she was old enough to understand, Remus had told her stories of how the Marauders had become Animagi to help him through the full moons. Intrigued, Cassie did her own research—and eventually became one herself. Remus hadn’t approved at first, but he knew there was no stopping her once she set her mind to it.

Cassie rubbed her eyes as she stepped into the bathroom, grimacing at her reflection in the mirror. Remus had been right—those circles were dark. But it was for him; always taking care of him. Anything for their Moony, just as the Marauders had always said.

Stepping into the shower, she turned on the tap, letting the cool water splash against her face. The chill woke her senses, washing away the lingering fatigue from the long night. She sighed, blinking rapidly, before drying off and slipping into the soft, worn Zeppelin shirt. The fabric smelled faintly of him, a comforting reminder of the past, and she felt a small smile tug at her lips.

Her feet padded across the floorboards as she returned to her room, taking in the familiar chaos that always made her feel at home. The fairy lights strung across the walls cast a gentle glow over the stacks of books and jars of herbs, the paper butterflies and old photographs fluttering slightly in the breeze from the open window.

Cassie dropped onto her quilt with a contented sigh, letting the warmth of the bed and the quiet of the cottage settle around her. Exhaustion weighed so heavily on her that even the hazy morning light slipping through the curtains didn’t bother her. She was asleep within minutes.

***

At around midday, Cassie woke to an incessant tapping. It was faint but unmistakable. She tried burying her face deeper into her pillow, but the sound refused to stop. With a groan, she shoved herself upright and trudged out of her room.

She shut her door and turned quickly, nearly colliding with Remus in the hallway.

“Bloody hell,” she gasped, steadying herself. “Sorry, Moony.”

“S’okay,” he muttered, rubbing a hand down his tired face. “Am I going mad, or do you hear that tapping too?”

“I hear it, Moons,” Cassie said through a yawn. “I was just on my way to check it out myself.”

The tapping grew sharper, more insistent, echoing from the kitchen. Cassie exchanged a glance with Remus before padding ahead. When she stepped inside, her eyes went to the window on the right—where a great tawny owl glared at her with piercing golden eyes, its beak striking the glass like a hammer.

“What the—” Cassie muttered, tilting her head at the bird.

“What is it?” Remus asked as he hobbled in after her. His eyes followed her gaze and landed on the owl. “Oh, bollocks.”

The owl pecked again, sharp and impatient, as if offended at being kept waiting.

Cassie raised a brow. “Friend of yours?”

“Not exactly,” Remus sighed, already reaching for the latch.

The moment the window swung open, the owl swept inside in a rush of wings. One powerful flap sent a cool draft through the kitchen, tugging at Cassie’s hair as it landed squarely on the table. It gave an exasperated hoot, feathers ruffled, and stuck out its scaly leg with the letter tied firmly in place.

“All right, all right,” Remus muttered, leaning down to untie the parchment. “Scram, then, you ornery old thing.”

The owl clicked its beak in sharp disapproval but took off anyway, brushing Cassie’s shoulder with its wingtip as it shot back out into the open sky.

Cassie shut the window once more, watching as Remus tore open the envelope. She leaned against the sill, arms crossed, waiting.

He read aloud:

"Mr. R. J. Lupin,

Professor Dumbledore wishes to pay you a visit today around tea time. He understands it's short notice and apologizes.

Hoping you are well."

“Who’s it from?” Cassie asked.

“Doesn’t say,” Remus muttered, tossing the letter onto the table. “But it must have come from the Hogwarts Headmaster’s office.”

The coldness in his eyes was immediate, the distance in his posture unmistakable.

“What’s wrong?” Cassie asked softly, reading the tension in his face.

“Years of nothing,” he said, voice low and bitter. “Nothing, Cass. And he just invites himself over? After all this time—after everything—and he never tells me the full story?” His hands clenched into fists, knuckles white.

Cassie stepped closer but said nothing, letting him work through the storm that had been building for years. She understood, in part, the weight of his frustrations: loyalty, grief, and a moral code that had been repeatedly tested by Dumbledore’s choices.

“Part of me just wants to leave,” he muttered, eyes fixed on the table. “Go somewhere, occupy myself, and leave Dumbledore to find an empty house.”

“But?” Cassie prompted softly.

“But I really want to know what this is about,” he admitted. “We haven’t been in touch for years. I know nothing about the Order, and… it must be important.”

Cassie glanced at him, reading the tight line of his jaw and the faraway look in his eyes. “I think you’re worrying too much,” she said softly.

Remus shook his head. “It’s not worry. It’s… knowing him. Knowing how he operates. I can’t tell if this is trivial or—” His voice trailed off, the weight of years of secrecy pressing down.

Cassie crouched by the cupboard and rummaged through their little stash, emerging with a chocolate bar. She held it out like an offering. “Eat. You’ll feel better.”

He gave her a faint, reluctant smile. “You making fun of me, missy?” he teased, breaking off a piece.

“No,” she said, snapping off a piece for herself. “Just taking after you.”

That made Remus laugh.

“So,” Cassie said, rewrapping the chocolate bar, “we’re going to be kind when this Dumbledore fellow comes round, right?”

“Yes, Mum,” Remus replied, smirking.

“Shut it, old man,” Cassie shot back.

“Enough of this ‘old man’ shit,” Remus said, grinning. “I’m not even middle-aged.”

"Yet" Cassie said touching a finger to his nose.

“Cassie!” Remus barked, swatting at her hand.

But she was already laughing and sprinting toward her room, leaving him shaking his head with a fond smile.

***

At a quarter to Dumbledore’s arrival, Cassie finally pulled herself together and changed, deciding pajamas—or anything close to them—wouldn’t cut it. She slipped into pale green trousers and a soft blue jumper, the fabric light enough to bear the summer warmth. It wasn’t fancy, but it was respectable, and more importantly, it was comfortable.

She tugged on a pair of worn brown boots and bent to lace them up, double-knotting just in case. Straightening, she caught her reflection in the mirror.

She nodded once, then turned for the bathroom.

“Wand,” she muttered, pulling it from her drawer and going to twist it up into her hair like she often did. But her eyes drifted back to the open drawer—where a pair of scissors lay waiting. Smirking, she set the wand aside and swapped it out.

Her fringe had grown past her brows, so she trimmed it back, neat enough for now. She snipped at the rest, too, giving her jaw-length cut its usual shape. It wasn’t the first time she’d done this herself—she liked her hair short. Her parents had kept it cropped when she was little, and after they died, Remus simply carried on because he hadn’t a clue what else to do. As she grew, she stuck with the style—it was easier, cleaner—and eventually softened it with a fringe so it wasn’t so blunt. Remus never minded. Saved them money, and Cassie turned out to be good at it. Good enough, in fact, that she even cut his hair on occasion.

“Cass?” she heard Remus call, and a moment later he wandered straight into her room.

Cassie froze mid-snip, like she’d been caught doing something illicit.

“Oh—you’re cutting your hair,” he said, not the least bit surprised, tugging at his sleeve. “Do you think I look scruffy?” He asked it so earnestly she almost laughed.

Cassie held up her index finger and thumb, leaving only the tiniest gap. “Just a little bit.”

“Mm.” He rolled his eyes. “Think you could fix me up, then? Still want to look… presentable. I guess.”

Cassie smiled and nodded. “Grab that chair,” she said, nodding toward her desk.

Remus leaned forward, grabbed the back, and hauled it across the floor into her bathroom before settling onto it.

Cassie immediately got to work, trimming here and there, though he didn’t actually need much—probably just a brush would’ve done it. She snipped with practiced ease, careful but efficient.

Remus twitched subconsciously, but Cassie caught it. “Hold still, Moony. I swear I won’t lop your ears off.”

“Sure,” he teased back, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

Cassie rolled her eyes, scissors poised. “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous today. A single stray lock and I might just—”

“—give me a new hairstyle I didn’t ask for?” he finished, raising an eyebrow.

“Exactly,” she said, snipping a stray lock with precision.

Then, picking up her wand, Cassie flicked it with a practiced little flourish. A quick gust of air blew across Remus’s face, ruffling his hair back and sending the clipped strands scattering to the floor.

He sputtered, blinking through the sudden breeze. “Was that really necessary?”

Cassie grinned, tucking her wand behind her ear. “Completely. Besides, now you’re debris-free. You should be thanking me.”

Remus huffed, though his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile. “Right. Thank you for nearly blowing my eyebrows off.”

Cassie stepped aside, letting him catch his reflection.

“Not half bad,” he said, running a hand through his hair.

“Best you’ve ever looked,” Cassie replied, arms crossed.

“Rude,” Remus muttered.

Before she could fire back, a sudden sharp crack split the air.

Cassie leaned toward the window by her bed, peering out at the man in a blue cloak with a long white beard. “Merlin,” she breathed.

“Dumbledore,” Remus corrected dryly.

“Oh, shut up,” Cassie said, already heading for the door, twisting her wand into her hair. “Come on—I’d like to meet the man.”

Cassie was the first down the hall, her boots thumping against the floorboards. She reached the door, heart beating faster than she cared to admit, and pulled it open.

Professor Dumbledore stood framed in the doorway, tall and imposing yet somehow gentle, his half-moon spectacles glinting in the light. The faint scent of lemon drops and parchment seemed to follow him.

“Miss Lupin, I presume?” he said, voice warm, eyes twinkling as they studied her.

“Lark, actually,” Cassie corrected, chin lifting a little.

Dumbledore’s smile deepened, as though she’d passed some unspoken test. “Ah. Then forgive me, Miss Lark. A pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.”

Before she could reply, Remus’ voice came from just behind her—dry, clipped. “Professor.”

“Remus,” Dumbledore inclined his head. “Thank you for receiving me on such short notice.”

Cassie glanced between them, feeling the shift in the air. Warmth on one side, winter on the other.

Remus’ mouth thinned. “Not as though you gave us much of a choice, is it?”

“Would you like tea, Professor?” Cassie cut in quickly, flashing Remus a warning look.

“That would be lovely, Miss Lark. Three sugars, thank you.”

Cassie nodded. “Remus, remind me where the good tea is?” She tilted her head at him—an unspoken nudge.

“You can sit, if you’d like,” Remus said to Dumbledore, before trailing Cassie into the kitchen.

The moment they were out of earshot, Cassie spun on him. “You’re an adult, Moony. Act like it.” She tried to sound stern but was laughing.

Remus crossed his arms, rolling his eyes though a smile tugged at his mouth. “Yeah, yeah—mum.”

“Okay, but seriously. Where’s the good tea?”

He chuckled, shaking his head.

The water boiled quickly, and Cassie poured it into three mugs, dropping in the tea bags. She set two on a tray with three stirring spoons and extra sugar, and with a flick of her wand, the tray floated obediently into the sitting room, settling on the coffee table between them.

Cassie sank onto the couch beside Remus, across from Dumbledore.

“Thank you, Miss Lark,” Dumbledore said, lifting a mug.

“Cassie is fine,” she replied, placing her own mug on the table.

Dumbledore’s smile deepened. “Cassie, then.”

She nodded.

“Elodie and Nicholas’ daughter,” Remus said quietly.

Cassie swallowed, a faint ache tugging at her chest.

Dumbledore’s eyes softened, his gaze lingering on her. “Their daughter… I knew Elodie and Nicholas well. Wonderful people, truly. I am so very sorry for your loss, Cassie. They were extraordinary, and it is clear their kindness and courage live on in you.”

Cassie nodded, a lump forming in her throat, grateful for the sentiment but unused to such open acknowledgment of her parents.

“Right… why are you here?” Remus asked, sharper than he intended.

Dumbledore inclined his head, placing his mug on the table. “You must be waiting for an explanation, Mr. Lupin. I’m sure you’ve heard the news?”

Remus shrugged. “What news? If you think we’re getting owls out here, yours would be the first.”

Dumbledore sighed.

“What?” Remus pressed.

“You haven’t been in contact with Mr. Black, have you?” Dumbledore asked.

Cassie saw Remus visibly cringe.

“No… why would I be—”

“He’s dead, isn’t he?” Cassie blurted.

“No,” Dumbledore said gently. “He’s escaped.”

“What?!” Cassie exclaimed.

Remus buried his face in his hands.

“Escaped? What do you mean, escaped?” Cassie demanded.

“Sirius Black has escaped Azkaban." He scoffed. "I thought it impenetrable; I didn’t know anyone could break out,”

“He’d be the first,” Dumbledore said.

“How?” Cassie asked.

“Sirius Black was—and is—quite the gifted wizard,” Dumbledore replied.

“And a bastard,” Remus muttered under his breath.

“This news is not, in fact, the reason I’ve come,” Dumbledore said gently. “I assumed word had already reached you. The true reason is… another matter entirely. A position has opened at Hogwarts, and I believe you would do wonderfully as a teacher.”

Remus’ head snapped up, eyes wide. “A teacher? Are you mad?!”

“I know you’d fill the post well—”

“Professor,” Remus cut in sharply, “you understand I am a werewolf. A werewolf. Teaching children?” His laugh was brittle, bitter. “That has to be your daftest idea yet.”

“I believe that because of your lycanthropy and your experience in the Order, you would be more than qualified to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts,” Dumbledore said. “And with the news of Black’s escape—”

“You want me nearby,” Remus interrupted, his voice low.

“I want you both nearby, for your protection,” Dumbledore said, his eyes meeting Remus’. “I know he was quite close to you, Remus.”

“And Cassie,” he added, looking at her gently.

“But he wouldn’t come after us, would he?” Cassie asked, glancing between Dumbledore and Remus.

“Wouldn’t dare,” Remus said flatly.

“He wouldn’t,” Dumbledore agreed, “because I highly doubt he is after you.”

Cassie frowned. “What?”

Dumbledore inhaled deeply, eyes serious. “Harry.”

Remus scrubbed a hand down his face. “Harry,” he repeated. “How old is he now?”

“Thirteen,” Dumbledore said softly. “Just like them, you know… like James and Lily.”

Cassie smiled sadly.

“But I’m sure Black is on his way to Harry, to finish the job,” Dumbledore continued.

“So you also want me there to watch over Harry?” Remus asked, his voice tense.

Dumbledore nodded. “Thought you might like to.”

Remus glanced at Cassie.

“Should you choose to accept,” Dumbledore said, reaching inside his cloak and producing an envelope, “Miss Lark has a spot at Hogwarts awaiting her.” He handed it to Cassie.

Cassie took it, eyes wide. She looked at Remus, heart racing. She had never seriously considered Hogwarts—she had been perfectly content with Remus’ homeschooling—but now, the opportunity stretched out before her.

Remus turned back to Dumbledore. “Okay,” he said, voice firm but cautious.

Chapter Text

On the first of September, 1993, Cassie and Remus rose with the sun, their bags already packed from the night before. It would be their first train ride of the day: one into London, then the more important one—the scarlet steam engine bound for Hogwarts.

While it would have been quicker and easier to Apparate straight to King’s Cross, Remus insisted she experience the magic of slipping through a barrier Muggles could never cross.

“I remember my first time,” Remus said as they cut through the forest path toward the station. “Ran at the wall full speed. Thought I’d knock myself out on the bricks—imagine my shock when I never hit it.”

Cassie snorted. “But how’d you know to run at it? Sounds mad.”

“Dumbledore told me,” Remus said with a shrug, a chuckle escaping him. “And I believed him. Look where that got me.”

“Look where it got me,” Cassie shot back. “My only friend at this new school is an old tosser who also happens to be a teacher… who also happens to be a werewolf.”

Remus arched a brow. “Who also happens to be your godfather.”

Cassie laughed.

By seven, she and Remus were settled on the train, the steady clatter of wheels carrying them closer to Hogwarts.

Cassie pressed her cheek to the glass, legs swinging as she bounced in her seat, barely able to contain her glee.

“Cass,” Remus said.

“Hm?” She turned to look at him.

He exhaled slowly. “I know you’ll want to talk to Harry when you see him,”

“Well, of course. He’s family,” Cassie said.

“But you must remember,” Remus went on, “Harry’s world is very small. Right now, all he really knows is that Lily and James were his parents, and they died twelve years ago. He doesn’t know about me, Peter, or Sirius. And his aunt and uncle—your aunt and uncle too—hate magic. I’d bet they kept your family from him too."

Cassie’s tone deflated. “Nobody told him?”

“I’d wager Dumbledore hasn’t, no,” Remus admitted with a huff. “Which is why you can’t drop everything on him all at once. I’ll tell him too, but when the time is right.”

“Okay.” Cassie lowered her eyes to her lap.

“But he will know,” Remus added, trying to lift her spirits. “Then it won’t be just me you have.”

“You’re still family, Moony,” Cassie assured him.

Remus smiled fondly, but his expression shifted suddenly. “Oh—” he said, “you can’t call me Moony at school. Or, at least, not in front of people.”

“What? Why?!” she whined.

He crossed his arms. “Why am I called Moony?”

“Because you’re a werewolf,” she said quietly.

“Right,” he said, holding up a finger. “That’s one reason.”

“There’s another?” Cassie asked.

Remus nodded. “There’s a certain map probably roaming around Hogwarts with my name on it—well, Moony—but still me.”

“But I thought you said the map was confiscated in your fifth year,” Cassie said.

“It was. But what makes you think some troublemakers haven’t found it? Troublemakers made it!” Remus said.

“Touché,” Cassie muttered, smirking.

Time on the train passed slowly, and with little to occupy her, Cassie soon felt her eyelids growing heavy.

“I think I’m going to nap for a bit,” she said, shifting her trunk from the seat beside her and tucking her feet up. “Early morning’s got me.”

“Sleep,” Remus replied. “I’ll be here.”

“How long is the train ride?” she asked, shutting her eyes and leaning against the window.

“Four hours,” he answered.

She hummed in response, and within minutes, she was out.

About three and a half hours later, she stirred as Remus poked her gently with his cane.

“Hm? What?” she murmured.

“We’re pulling in,” he said with a grin.

That sobered her up instantly, and her eyes snapped to the window.

Cassie pressed her face to the glass as the train slowed, her heart skipping a beat. The station was vast, bustling with people moving in every direction, their hurried steps echoing off the high, arched ceiling. Luggage trolleys clattered across the polished floor, and the scent of coal, steam, and baked goods mingled in the air. She’d never seen a place so alive, so loud, so full of motion.

Her eyes darted around, taking in the crowds of muggles with their hurried expressions, the families saying goodbyes, and the strange mix of announcements over the PA that echoed like music to her ears. It was overwhelming—and exhilarating.

“This is Platform Five,” Remus murmured from across the aisle. “We’ll head to nine and three-quarters as soon as we’re off.”

The train screeched to a stop, wheels grinding against the rails. The carriage was nearly empty, so without waiting for anyone ahead, Cassie was on her feet in an instant.

Grabbing her trunk, she turned eagerly. “Come on, Remus!”

“Okay, okay,” he chuckled, falling in step behind her.

The moment Cassie stepped onto Platform Five, the scents hit her full force—the sharp tang of coal, the warm aroma of baked goods, and the faint metallic tang of luggage trolleys clattering across the polished floor. Everything smelled richer, more alive than she’d imagined.

“Wow,” she breathed, eyes wide.

“That’s not even the coolest part,” Remus said, leaning down slightly. “Come on.” He was already moving ahead.

Cassie gaped at him for a moment, then snapped back to reality and jogged after him, quickly falling into step.

“You can see the barrier from here,” Remus pointed ahead.

“I know it’s supposed to look like a brick wall—and sometimes act like one—but really…you could’ve fooled me. That looks solid,” Cassie said, her voice full of disbelief.

“Wait till you’re running at it,” Remus teased, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Cassie groaned at the thought. Running full speed into a solid brick wall? No thanks.

They continued weaving through the bustling station, passing each platform in turn. Seven. Cassie’s chest felt tight, a mix of nerves and excitement fluttering in her stomach. Eight. Every step closer to the barrier made her pulse quicken.

Now they stood between nine and ten. Cassie glanced up at Remus.

“Ready?” he asked.

Cassie swallowed hard, then nodded.

Remus held out his arm. “I’ll take your trunk, so you can just go.”

She nodded again, handing it over. Breathing deeply, she turned toward the wall behind her. Above, a small sign indicated Platform Nine. Just beyond that wall lay the hidden Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

“It’s easier if you run,” Remus said.

“Right,” Cassie muttered, steeling herself.

Cassie took a deep breath and shut her eyes. Then, she ran.

She didn't hit a brick wall, instead, she felt a wave of magic surge through her—thick, humming, alive. She froze, eyes still closed, heart pounding in disbelief.

When she opened them, the world on the other side took her breath away. The arching sign that read 9¾, the gleaming scarlet train, the chaos of cloaks and trunks and cats and owls in cages—it all shimmered with something more. Everything was brighter, sharper, more vivid, as if she’d stepped straight into the pages of a storybook.

She spun around, taking it all in again, a laugh bubbling from her lips. “It’s… it’s amazing!”

Remus appeared behind her, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Here,” he said, handing over her trunk.

Cassie blinked, still gaping at the vibrant scene before her, and took the trunk almost automatically. She hardly noticed the weight in her hands—and didn’t even hear Remus’ soft, “Come on,” her eyes glued to the chaos around her.

As she scanned the crowded platform, drinking in the sea of witches and wizards, a sudden realization struck her.

Remus was gone.

It was like the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice—if Orpheus had listened to Hades and was Eurydice’s godfather.

“Oh bollocks,” she muttered. Not that she couldn’t get on a train by herself—the bright red engine was right there. But her plan had been to sit with Remus, and now there was a chance she’d lost him until they reached Hogwarts. Cassie might have to find a spot on her own.

Ahead, a clock caught her eye. Her eyes widened. 10:58. Two minutes to get on the train.

She started weaving through the crowd. Why are there so many people still?! she thought. After far too many “excuse mes,” she finally hopped aboard as the last whistle blew.

The train began to chug away from the station. Cassie caught the goodbyes of parents, watched them blowing kisses to their children. She gave a small nod and stepped further inside.

"Now to find the numpty who left me…" she muttered under her breath.

Cassie wove her way down the narrow corridor, pressing herself against the sides whenever students passed. All the while, her eyes darted into each compartment, searching for Remus. She crossed into another car, which appeared empty—or so she thought, her sole focus still on finding him.

She continued down the corridor, eyes scanning the compartments, when a sudden yell cut through the noise.

“Fred! Watch it!” the voice shouted.

Cassie froze, heart skipping a beat. When her eyes adjusted, she realized she was staring down the barrel of some kind of rocket aimed straight between her eyebrows. She crossed her eyes, trying to track the swirling object.

A split second before it struck, she ducked, hands covering her head. The tiny rocket whizzed past, sparks singeing the few hairs standing on top of her head. At the end of the corridor, it popped loudly, emitting a small firework.

Cassie stood, blinking at the charred sparks littering the floor. Then, just as quickly, she spun around to find the culprit.

In front of her stood two identical boys. One grinned with palpable pride, the other wore a sheepish, apologetic smile.

“Did you see that, George? It worked!” the proud one shouted.

The other ignored his brother entirely. “I am so sorry,” he said earnestly.

Cassie scowled, smoothing her hair back with one hand, clearly unimpressed. It was obvious who had launched the rocket.

“Really?” she said, narrowing her eyes at the boy who was still gawking.

“What?” he asked, genuinely clueless.

Cassie looked back at the scattered gunpowder, then at him again, utterly dumbfounded. “You’re serious?”

“What?” He glanced at his brother. “Am I missing something?”

“That was extremely dangerous,” Cassie snapped. “How could you just shoot a firecracker at someone?”

“Firework,” the boy corrected with a cheeky grin.

“Even worse!” Cassie shot back.

“Not like it blew your head off,” he shrugged.

“Well, it could have,” she stepped closer, voice low.

“But it didn’t,” he mirrored her stance, grin still fixed.

It was clear the other twin had no idea what to do.

“Oi, what’s happening?” a voice called from behind.

Cassie turned to see a boy with matching red hair and freckles, holding a gray, fat rat in his hands.

“George and I were just testing a new product, baby brother,” the firework-wielder said.

“And nearly beheaded me,” Cassie added, arms crossed.

“But we didn’t,” he leaned closer, repeating, “like I said before.”

“Fred, stop terrorizing people—it’s not even the first day,” the younger boy scolded.

With that, the twins walked off—the apologetic one muttering more “sorrys” behind, the other smugly staring at Cassie, which she harshly returned.

“Sorry about them,” the boy behind her said. Cassie turned and realized she hadn’t noticed two other kids standing just beyond him.

One was a girl with mid-length, slightly frizzy, curly brown hair, carrying her trunk in one hand and a large, bushy orange cat in a carrier in the other. Setting her trunk down, she held out her hand.

“Hermione Granger.”

“Cassie,” she replied, shaking it.

At the back of the little group stood a boy with shaggy black hair sticking up in every direction. He wore round glasses, and when his eyes met Cassie’s, she froze. She knew those eyes—bright, piercing green. Her Aunt Lily’s eyes. She’d grown up seeing them in photos, and she would’ve recognized them anywhere. She didn’t need a scar to tell her who he was. She was meeting her cousin—the Chosen One.

“Harry,” the boy said, shaking her hand.

“Lovely to meet you,” Cassie said, and meant it wholeheartedly.

“Harry,” the ginger boy urged, “you lead—I can’t find a compartment.”

“Fine,” Harry muttered, stepping closer to Cassie.

“Would you like to sit with us?” Hermione asked.

“That’d be lovely,” Cassie said with a smile.

“I’m Ron, by the way,” the freckled boy added. “Sorry my brothers were bothering you. They want to open a joke shop someday, so they’ve been making and testing products for years.”

“Are they always so observant?” Cassie asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Always,” Ron said with a sigh.

“One was actually sorry. The other? Not so much.” Cassie rolled her eyes.

“Probably George.”

“Yeah—it was George,” Cassie nodded, recognizing the name.

“The other is Fred. He thinks he’s the funnier twin, but George is just as funny.”

“Seems like he’s the crueler twin,” Cassie muttered.

“You’re not wrong about that,” Ron admitted.

Up ahead, Harry was telling a story about how he’d accidentally blown up his aunt as they continued searching for a compartment.

“I didn’t mean to blow her up. I just… lost control,” Harry said.

“Brilliant,” Ron chuckled.

“Honestly, Ron, it’s not funny,” Hermione scolded. “Harry was lucky not to be expelled.”

“I think I was lucky not to be arrested, actually,” Harry corrected.

“I still think it was brilliant,” Ron said, grinning.

Harry blew up his aunt, Cassie thought to herself. Huh.

“Come on, everywhere else is full,” Hermione sighed, stopping in front of a compartment.

They slid the door open, and Cassie trailed in after them—only to nearly drop her trunk in shock.

There, slumped in the corner seat, was Remus. Fast asleep.

“Who do you think that is?” Ron asked, dropping into the seat opposite, closest to the window.

“Professor R. J. Lupin,” Hermione said matter-of-factly.

Harry was still wrestling his trunk onto the rack. He caught Cassie’s eye and tilted his head toward hers in silent offer.

“Thanks,” she said, letting him hoist it up before settling in next to Remus with a quiet chuckle.

“You know everything,” Ron muttered, staring at Hermione. “How is it she knows everything?”

Hermione pointed at the battered suitcase above Remus’s head. “It’s written on his suitcase, Ronald.”

“Oh.”

“Do you think he’s really asleep?” Harry asked, sitting next to Cassie.

“Unless you plan on making the same annoying noise over and over again, yeah—he’s out.”

Ron frowned. “And how would you know that?”

Cassie smirked. “Oh, he’s my godfather.”

There was a chorus of surprised “ohs.”

“Why?” Hermione asked, tilting her head curiously.

Harry straightened and slid the compartment door shut. “I’ve got to tell you something.”

Sitting back down, he turned to Cassie. “Can I trust you?”

“I’m new, I’ve got nobody to tell,” Cassie said with a shrug.

“You are new,” Hermione said, giving Ron a pointed look. “I told you, Ron.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Alright, alright. What’s the big secret then?”

Harry huffed and explained, quietly, that Arthur Weasley had told him Sirius Black was after him. That he was in danger because Voldemort’s return depended on him, and he was the only thing standing in the way.

Through the conversation, the sky outside darkened, sheets of rain hammering the train.

“Wait, let me get this straight,” Ron said slowly. “Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban… to come after you?”

"Yeah," Harry nodded, still seeming to struggle with the reality.

Hermione leaned forward, voice tight with concern. “But they’ll catch him, right? I mean, everyone’s looking for him.”

Ron shrugged. “Sure… except no one’s ever broken out of Azkaban before. And he’s a murderous, raving lunatic.” His eyebrows knitted in fear.

“Thanks, Ron,” Harry muttered flatly.

Cassie was itching to say something about Sirius or that harry was her cousin, but stayed quiet on the matter.

"I'm sure youll be fine harry" Cassie assured him

Suddenly, the train lurched, wheels squeaking.

“Why are we stopping?” Hermione asked, sitting straighter. "We can't be there yet." Her voice tinged with worry.

Cassie looked around at everyone in the compartment, concerned.

Harry stood, slid the compartment door open, and peeked into the corridor. A low, ominous rumble echoed through the train. The carriage tilted, and he stumbled backward into his seat.

“What’s going on?!” Ron cried.

The door clicked shut with a harsh snap.

“Dunno… maybe we broke down?” Harry said, tone almost hopeful.

“Maybe it’s the weather?” Cassie offered, eyes flicking to the fogged-up windows.

Then the lights flickered—and went out.

Everyone froze. Eyes shot to the light.

Ron pressed his face to the glass.

“Ouch, Ron, that was my foot,” Hermione snapped.

“There’s… someone moving out there,” he blubbered, voice trembling.

The emergency lights flickered on briefly, dim yellow, then cut out again, plunging them into shadows.

Ron pressed his hand harder into the fogged glass. “I think… someone’s coming aboard.”

The train lurched again. The compartment door creaked open an inch—then clicked shut.

Cassie snapped her head toward the door, Harry following. Their eyes locked on it, wide and wary.

The temperature dropped.

Breath bloomed in white clouds. Warmth drained from the air, replaced by a heavy, creeping cold that settled deep in their bones.

A sharp crackle echoed from the window. Ice crystals spread from Ron’s pressed hand, creeping like spiderwebs, twisting and curling across the pane.

The cold reached the water bottle near Remus, freezing it solid in moments.

Cassie glanced at Remus, but her slept on, unbothered.

Even the windows on the door frosted over, swirling with ice patterns.

The train lurched violently, nearly sending Ron and Hermione sprawling.

“Bloody hell!” Ron exclaimed. "What's happening?!"

An eerie whistle pierced the air. All heads snapped toward the door.

From the corner of it, ragged strips of dark fabric fluttered like dead leaves caught in a restless wind. The edges twisted and curled with a life of their own.

Cassie’s hand shook as she pointed.

The whistling wind and ragged breathing filled the compartment.

A bony, decayed hand appeared from the black cloak, hovering near the door, moving with unseen magic. Slowly, agonizingly, the door creaked open.

Cassie held her breath.

The towering cloaked figure stepped into view, its face swallowed in shadow beneath a black hood.

It inched closer. Hermione’s cat hissed, fur bristling. Ron’s rat squeaked, retreating into his jacket.

A distorted whooshing filled the air.

Cassie wanted to scream, but no sound came.

Then the figure turned toward Harry, leaning in. A sudden chill swept through the compartment, an invisible, desperate tug draining the light from him.

Cassie’s eyes widened in horror, glued to the scene in front of her.

Suddenly, Remus sprang to his feet, wand raised. A brilliant white light shot from its tip, striking the cloaked figure and forcing it back, its ragged form recoiling with a hiss.

Cassie snapped back to reality and looked up at Remus, standing tall, then at Hermione and Ron, who were staring at Harry sprawled unconscious on the bench-seat.

“Harry? Harry, are you all right?” Hermione asked, panic in her voice.

Harry blinked, disoriented. Hermione quickly held his glasses out to him.

“Thank you,” he said, taking them and adjusting them carefully.

Remus reached into his pocket and pulled out a chocolate bar, snapping off a piece. “Here,” he said, offering it to Harry. “Eat this. It'll help.”

Harry propped himself up on his elbow, taking a cautious bite.

“It’s all right. It’s chocolate,” Remus reassured him.

“Wha-what was that thing… that came?” Harry asked, glancing toward the door.

“It was a Dementor,” Remus said, his gaze following the door. “One of Azkaban’s guards. It was searching the train for Sirius Black. It’s gone now.”

Remus placed the chocolate bar on the bench between Cassie and Harry. He then stood, heading for the door. Pausing, he glanced back at them. “Eat. You’ll feel better,” he said firmly.

With that, he stepped out and let the door close behind him.

“Be right back,” Cassie said, rising without explaining further. The look on Remus’ face as he left the compartment was… unusual, and it made her pause, a flicker of concern rising.

Shutting the door behind her, she found him slumped against the wall a few feet away.

“You okay?” she asked softly, hurrying to his side.

Remus gave a small, uncertain nod. “I thought I was ready to see him… I thought I’d be okay. I didn’t expect to see him so soon. But… I saw Lily in his eyes, and James in everything else.”

“I know,” Cassie said, looking down at her feet. “Lily was the first person I saw too.”

Remus’s eyes softened. “You did?”

Cassie nodded. “And while it hurts, it’s also… comforting, in a way, to have them both here, even if they’re not… really here.”

“Very mature and wise of you, Cass,” Remus said.

“Got it from you,” Cassie replied.

He chuckled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and giving her a gentle squeeze. “I’ll come find you before we get off, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Cassie said.

“Kay,” he said. “Love you, Cass.”

“Love you, Moons,” she whispered back quietly before returning to the compartment.

Chapter Text

The Hogwarts Express screeched to a halt at Hogsmeade Station. Just as he’d promised, Remus came to fetch Cassie. What she didn’t expect, however, was that they’d be ushered into a private carriage.

“This is… not how I got to school,” Remus muttered, eyeing the inside of the enclosed coach. It had real doors, actual seats, and more than one thestral pulling it. Definitely not the rattling wagons from his day. “Don’t get too comfortable, Cassie. Next time, you’ll be in one of the open carriages, the kind that feel like a hayride through a pumpkin patch.”

Cassie chuckled softly, peeking out the window at the bony, winged creatures. “Misunderstood creatures, Thestrals,” she murmured, almost to herself.

Remus turned sharply toward her, eyes wide with surprise. "How—"

“I watched that stray die this summer,” Cassie explained quietly, heart clenching as the memory surfaced.

Remus’s expression softened. “I’d forgotten that happened. You’ve always been such an empath, Cass.”

Cassie swallowed harden. “It was bleeding out, Moony. I didn’t know what to do.”

Remus gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Alright, alright—let’s not get all mopey before we go in,” he said softly, nodding toward the window. “Look, we’re just pulling up.”

Cassie followed his gesture, and sure enough, the towering silhouette of the castle loomed closer through the rain-streaked glass. The rain had stopped, leaving the view crisp and clear against the deep, dark blue of the evening sky.

The castle stretched endlessly upward, turrets and towers outlined against the twilight. Every window and archway glowed with warm, golden light, spilling out like morning. Cassie’s breath caught in her throat. She had seen pictures, read about it, even imagined it a thousand times—but nothing had prepared her for the real thing.

“Was it this magical when you first came?” she breathed.

“Yes,” he admitted, a small smile tugging at his lips. “But I pretended I wasn’t absolutely awestruck.”

“How?” she asked, still gaping at the castle, eyes wide.

“Because I was a prick at eleven,” Remus admitted, “a thick, hard arse.”

“You were mad then,” Cassie said, turning back to him, a small smile tugging at her lips.

The carriage slowed, the thestrals’ hooves clattering softly on the cobblestones as they pulled up to the castle. Cassie slid the door open and hopped down, brushing raindrops from her sleeves.

“Thank you,” she said kindly, inclining her head to the thestrals. The creatures gave a quiet, almost imperceptible snort before shifting their weight, ready to return to the stables.

Remus followed her out, stretching slightly. “Alright, let’s not keep Hogwarts waiting.”

Before they could take another step, the massive doors of the castle creaked open. Cassie saw the older woman first. Her eyes immediately took in the sharp lines of her face, the stern set of her mouth, and the wire-rimmed spectacles that balanced neatly on her nose. Her dark robes swished as she moved, precise and controlled, every gesture deliberate. Yet there was a subtle warmth in her gaze that suggested she could see far more than she let on. Cassie felt a shiver of respect—or maybe awe—creep up her spine; this was someone used to command, and she carried it effortlessly.

“Remus Lupin,” the woman said, her voice surprised yet warm, as though pleased the rumors of his return were true. “Albus told me, but I wasn’t sure you’d actually show up.”

Remus chuckled. “You can thank this one for that.” He gave Cassie a gentle nudge forward. “She convinced me.”

Cassie smiled sheepishly and stuck out her hand. “Hello ma'am, my name is Cassie Lark.”

The woman shook it firmly. “Professor McGonagall, dear. We’re pleased to have you at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

Cassie’s smile grew a little easier at the kindness in her tone.

McGonagall then turned to the girl beside her. “Miss Lark, meet Miss Thorne—another transfer.”

Cassie’s eyes landed on the girl: waist-length curls of chestnut brown, the most beautiful hair Cassie had ever seen, and bright blue eyes like the ocean on a cloudless day. She was a little shorter than Cassie, though not by much.

“Lyra,” the girl said, extending her hand.

“Cassie,” she returned with a smile.

“And you both are beginning your fifth year, yes?” McGonagall asked.

Both girls nodded.

“Perfect. Then let’s head inside. The Headmaster wishes to speak with you.”

She turned toward the towering doors, Remus falling easily into step beside her. “How have you been, Minnie?” he asked with a grin.

The two girls exchanged a look, then broke into soft giggles before hurrying to follow them.

“Fifth year then.” Cassie asked. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Lyra replied with a small shrug. “Feels weird, though—starting now, when everyone’s already got their friendships and… everything.”

Cassie, feeling strangely at ease with her already, bumped her shoulder against Lyra’s. “Hey, now you’ve got one.”

Lyra’s smile warmed at that.

Cassie grinned. “If it makes you feel better, I thought my only friend here was gonna be that old codger up there.” She jerked her chin toward Remus. “My godfather. Hogwarts alumn and he newest addition to staff.”

“For one,” Lyra said with a teasing smile, “you’ve got two friends now—technically. And two—” her tone shifted toward curiosity—“where on staff is he being placed?”

“He’s filled a teaching position,” Cassie answered, a little pride sneaking into her voice. “Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

“Brilliant,” Lyra said. “Cheers, really—he must be quite qualified.”

“He is,” Cassie replied, her voice firm. Then, softer, to herself, she added, “For more reasons than one.”

Thankfully, Lyra didn’t hear her.

They trailed after the two professors, who were deep in conversation, catching up after years apart. The girls followed them through the echoing entrance hall, then into a smaller reception hall, until they stopped before two towering wooden doors stretching from floor to ceiling. Professor McGonagall pushed one open, and the four of them stepped into the Great Hall.

Cassie's eyes were saucers.

Four long tables ran the length of the chamber, candles floating serenely above them, their light glimmering off golden plates and goblets. But it was the ceiling that stole her breath—a vast, swirling canvas of deep blue, alive with stars and drifting clouds, perfectly mirroring the heavens outside. She’d read about it in Hogwarts: A History, but nothing could have prepared her for this. Night, the cosmos, the infinite skies—it was everything she loved, everything she felt connected to.

“I could get used to this,” she murmured, still gazing upward, utterly enchanted.

So much so, in fact, that Lyra had to grab her by the back of her shirt.

“We stopped,” Lyra whispered, amusement in her voice.

Cassie blinked, cheeks warming. “Just a bit… overwhelmed. But in the best way possible.”

A little ways off, Remus and Professor McGonagall were speaking with the headmaster himself. Cassie’s eyes lingered on Dumbledore’s kind expression, though her mind wandered again to the stars overhead, losing herself in their motion. She didn’t notice the headmaster approach until Lyra nudged her in the ribs. Cassie startled, eyes snapping down to the man now standing before them.

“Miss Lark,” Dumbledore greeted warmly, “how lovely to see you again.” He turned to Lyra with equal kindness. “And Miss Thorne, what a pleasure to meet you at last. You are both entering your fifth year, am I correct?”

“Yes,” the girls answered together.

“Splendid. Just as I thought.” His blue eyes twinkled. “The first years will be sorted shortly, after which I’ll make a few announcements before the feast begins. A most anticipated moment, I daresay.”

Cassie nearly laughed at how easily he’d read her mind—her mouth was already watering at the thought.

“As for you two,” Dumbledore went on, “there will be a sorting as well, though not with the first years. A private one, later this evening, in my study. Professor McGonagall and I will meet you there after the feast.” He gestured behind the staff table, where a thin, hunched man with a permanent scowl was setting up a small two-person table. “Mr. Filch has kindly arranged seats for you here in the meantime, as well as cloaks to keep you warm.”

The man dropped two folded cloaks onto their table before scuttling away.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” Dumbledore finished, giving a small bow before turning back toward the staff table.

Cassie and Lyra exchanged a look, excitement sparking bright between them.

“I can’t believe I’m actually here,” Lyra whispered.

“I know,” Cassie said, slipping into her seat and running a hand over the soft cloak. “I never thought I’d be here either.”

“Me neither.” Lyra smiled, tugging her own cloak around her shoulders.

Cassie chuckled. “VIP table for us, huh?”

The two girls grinned, settling in as the rest of the staff began to file into the hall.

They were chatting about lord knows what when the great oak doors creaked open wide, and what looked like thousands of students spilled into the hall. The crowd surged forward in a rush of robes and chatter, but just as quickly split off, each group finding their designated tables.

“Merlin, that’s a lot of people,” Cassie murmured, eyes darting across the crowd as though she might drown in it.

Lyra leaned closer, her voice pitched just for her. “And we’ll be in there soon.”

Cassie huffed a soft laugh, though her chest felt tight. It startled her, how at ease she already felt with Lyra. For years, she’d only had Remus—her safe place, her anchor—and she’d never really believed she’d let anyone else in. But Lyra was different. Somehow, impossibly, Cassie felt like she could trust her.

Cassie leaned back into her with a grin. “Can’t wait,” she said.

The great oak doors swung open again, and a line of nervous-looking first years filed into the hall. The Sorting Hat was brought out, placed on a stool at the front, and one by one, each child was called forward. The Hat’s brim twitched, muttered, and shouted its decisions, sending the students off to cheers from their new tables. Cassie watched with quiet fascination, remembering McGonagall’s promise that she and Lyra would face the same ritual later that evening.

Once the last first-year bounded to their seat, the hat and stool were whisked away. The room eventually quieted on its own as a small choir gathered at the front of the hall, lining up the steps like a set of risers. It was peculiar, though—several of them carried very large toads perched on cushions.

“What do you think those are for?” Lyra whispered, tilting her head.

“They’re gonna sing,” Cassie quipped, clearly joking.

Except, as it turned out, that was exactly what happened.

The choir began, the toads croaking in perfect, if bizarre, harmony. Cassie and Lyra sat frozen, eyes wide as saucers, listening in quiet bewilderment.

The song ended with one final, resounding croak. Cassie and Lyra snapped their heads toward each other, mouths breaking into huge grins before slapping their palms together and clapping enthusiastically.

The sea of students and toads gradually parted as Dumbledore appeared at his golden owl-shaped podium, candles flickering above the spread of its wings.

He raised his arms wide. “Welcome! Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! Now, I’d like to say a few words before we become befuddled by our excellent feast.” He clasped his hands together, eyes twinkling. “First, I am pleased to welcome Professor R. J. Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Good luck, Professor.” He gestured toward Remus.

Remus stood, bowing his head with a sheepish smile.

Cassie had to fight the urge to leap up and whoop, instead trying to make her claps the loudest in the hall. Lyra, despite only having met them moments ago, clapped with the same unshaken enthusiasm—like she’d known them for years.

When the clapping subsided, Dumbledore continued, “As some of you may know, Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher for many years, has decided to retire in order to spend more time with his remaining limbs.”

Cassie and Lyra flicked their eyes toward each other, eyes widening at the mention of "remaining limbs."

“Fortunately, I am delighted to announce that his place will be taken by none other than our own Rubeus Hagrid!” He gestured to the enormous, shaggy-haired man seated beside Professor McGonagall. Hagrid stood, beaming, and nearly toppled the staff table, sending goblets of water trembling. The whole hall erupted in cheers—it was clear he was well loved here.

Dumbledore raised a hand for quiet. “Finally, on a more disquieting note: at the request of the Ministry of Magic, Hogwarts will, until further notice, play host to the Dementors of Azkaban—until such a time as Sirius Black is captured.”

A hush fell, whispers breaking out across the room.

Cassie wasn’t sure what to feel. The students in this hall were terrified of the man she had once loved so dearly. Her chest tightened, but when she looked up, she caught Remus at the staff table giving her a small, reassuring nod.

“The Dementors will be stationed at every entrance to the grounds. Now, whilst I have been assured that their presence will not disrupt our day-to-day activities, a word of caution. Dementors are vicious creatures; they will not distinguish between the one they hunt and the one who gets in their way. Therefore, I must warn each and every one of you: give them no reason to harm you. It is not in the nature of a Dementor to be forgiving.”

Moments later, Dumbledore’s grave tone shifted completely, as if it had never been. He spread his arms wide, a twinkle flashing in his eye.

“Well! Tuck in!”

At once, the golden platters lining each table filled themselves to the brim—mountains of roast meats, steaming bowls of potatoes, jugs of pumpkin juice, baskets of bread, and more than Cassie could take in at once.

Her mouth nearly watered just looking at it. She caught Lyra’s eye, and both girls broke into delighted grins before reaching eagerly for the dishes nearest to them.

***

“Alright, where the hell is Dumbledore’s office?” Cassie groaned, spinning in a slow circle. She and Lyra had been wandering each floor since the feast ended, and it felt like they’d covered each floor twice over.

“Of course we get no guidance on how to get there,” Lyra muttered, arms folded.

Cassie shook her head, mild annoyance flickering across her face.

“Hey—did you take the train up?” she asked, changing the subject.

Lyra quickly turned her head, pretending to study a painting on the wall, quickly becoming amazed it was alive. “Oh, no. Professor McGonagall brought me here,” she said quickly, then pivoted right back. “What happened on the train?”

Cassie’s throat tightened, but she forced her tone to stay even. “A dementor came on board. Searching for Sirius Black.”

Lyra’s head snapped back to her, eyes wide. “What?!”

“I know,” Cassie said with a wry twist of her lips. “And apparently”—she gave a weak chuckle—“that’s not normal.”

“Shocker,” Lyra replied.

They kept walking until Lyra suddenly froze in her tracks. “I just had the most brilliant idea.”

Cassie raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“We’ve been wandering around lost when we could use the brilliantly magical, shocking resources all around us!” Lyra spun, arms wide, then stopped in front of Cassie. “The paintings!”

“Ask…the paintings?” Cassie repeated.

“I mean, it’s worth a shot. Come on,” Lyra said, grabbing Cassie’s wrist and hauling her forward.

Cassie chuckled, letting herself be pulled along.

Still holding Cassie’s wrist, Lyra led them through the corridors, scanning the portraits as they tried to pick which witch or wizard might be kind enough to give them directions.

They stopped in front of an older wizard in green robes, his kind face brightening as they approached. Lyra nudged Cassie forward.

“You had the idea,” Cassie muttered.

“Exactly,” Lyra shot back. “I had the brilliant idea, now you can do the talking,” she pushed Cassie gently ahead.

With a good-natured sigh, Cassie faced the wizard. “Hello, sir. You wouldn’t happen to know where Professor Dumbledore’s study is, would you?”

“Seventh floor, find the gryphon, thats the entrance.” he replied with a warm smile.

“Thank you very much,” Cassie said, turning toward the stairs.

“Thank you, sir!” Lyra called after her, hurrying to catch up.

“My pleasure,” the wizard said as they walked away.

“Told you!” Lyra called after Cassie.

“Yeah, yeah, you were right,” Cassie said, hopping onto the first step and turning to face Lyra. “Not even friends a day, and you’re already being snarky with me—” She ended in a shriek as the staircase shuddered and groaned, twisting beneath her feet.

Lyra nearly doubled over laughing as Cassie grabbed the railing for balance, the steps shifting and turning as if they had a mind of their own.

“This isn’t funny!” Cassie protested, though her laughter betrayed her.

“No, you’re right—it’s not,” Lyra said, not really meaning it, catching her breath between giggles.

Cassie slapped her forehead, still laughing. “There’s other stairs over there,” she pointed. “Meet me on the next floor!”

Lyra dashed across the corridor, laughing as she bounded up the stagnant steps. Cassie met her halfway on the sixth floor, both of them out of breath but grinning from ear to ear.

Without slowing down, Cassie grabbed Lyra’s hand and tugged her toward the stairs to the seventh floor, the two of them laughing like they’d just been dropped into the middle of a chick flick.

The castle was mostly empty now, save for the occasional stray student drifting through the halls, their footsteps echoing faintly off the stone walls.

On the seventh floor, the girls found the stone gryphon that guarded the entrance to Dumbledore’s study—shockingly quick. Cassie’s grin spread wide, pride flickering in her eyes as she stared up at the carved bird.

“Uh, Cass,” Lyra said slowly. “He never told us the password.”

Cassie’s bubble of joy popped.

“Shit.”

Lyra nodded, lips pressed in a tight line.

“Maybe I’ll just… tell it Dumbledore needs us?” Cassie offered.

Lyra shot her a flat look.

Cassie rolled her eyes playfully, then turned back to the statue. “’Scuse me,” she said, voice lighter than she felt. “Dumbledore asked us to his study. Cassie Lark and Lyra Thorne?”

To their utter shock, the stone gryphon groaned, then twisted aside, revealing a spiral staircase winding upward.

With a smug smile, Cassie stepped onto the first stair. “You’re not the only one with good ideas today.”

“I can’t believe that worked,” Lyra muttered, cautiously following.

“Magic,” Cassie teased.

The staircase began to rotate, carrying them smoothly upward like an enchanted escalator. Both girls stared in awe, though Lyra’s wide-eyed wonder made her look as though she’d just stepped into a fairy tale.

The staircase deposited them before a polished oak door with a brass griffin-shaped knocker. Cassie reached out, heart thumping, and pushed.

The study beyond made her stop in her tracks.

It was a beautiful circular room, large and airy, with windows set deep into the stone walls. The high, domed ceiling glittered with the reflections of dozens of curious silver instruments that stood whirring and puffing on spindle-legged tables. Richly embroidered rugs muffled their footsteps as they stepped inside. Portraits of past headmasters and headmistresses snoozed or stirred in their gilded frames, and the shelves were crammed with books so ancient some looked as though they might crumble to dust at a touch. A magnificent claw-footed desk dominated the far side of the room, gleaming with polished wood.

Cassie’s eyes caught on the most extraordinary sight of all: a golden perch by the desk, and upon it, a phoenix of the richest scarlet and gold, dozing with its head tucked under one wing.

And there, standing in front of the desk, was Professor Dumbledore himself, hands folded calmly. Professor McGonagall waited beside him, sharp eyes softened.

Lyra’s mouth had parted the moment they stepped in the castle, and she hadn’t closed it since. Her eyes roamed the walls, the whirring instruments, the shelves sagging under books, and finally landed on the phoenix.

“Bloody hell,” she whispered before she could stop herself.

Cassie elbowed her lightly, trying not to grin. She was impressed too, though she forced herself to walk forward.

Dumbledore’s blue eyes twinkled as he regarded them, the corners crinkling with warmth. “Ah. Miss Lark. Miss Thorne. Welcome.”

His voice filled the room without effort, gentle yet commanding all at once. “I trust the castle has not overwhelmed you too badly on your first evening?”

Lyra’s face flushed as she finally managed to shut her mouth. Cassie, though, answered with an easy smile.

“Not yet,” she said, “though it certainly tries.”

Dumbledore chuckled. "Well i dont want to keep you too long, shall we get on with the sorting?"

Dumbledore chuckled, the sound like soft bells. “Well, I don’t want to keep you too long. Shall we get on with the Sorting?”

McGonagall, standing prim beside Dumbledore, stepped forward with the battered old Sorting Hat in her hands. Its frayed brim twitched as though it already sensed the task ahead.

“As you are both entering Hogwarts at an older year,” she began, her crisp voice steady but kind, “the process is much the same as it is for the first-years. The Sorting Hat will be placed upon your head, and it will determine the House to which you are best suited. There is no need to be nervous—the Hat sees far more than you think, and it always makes the right choice.”

Lyra shifted on her feet, staring at the ragged thing like it might leap out of McGonagall’s hands. Cassie, meanwhile, tilted her head, curiosity sparking in her eyes rather than fear.

McGonagall’s gaze softened just slightly. “Who wants to go first.”

“You go first, Lyra,” Cassie said, giving her a gentle nudge.

“Really?” Lyra glanced back at her, eyes wide.

Cassie nodded firmly. “Go on.”

With a quick breath, Lyra stepped forward. Cassie watched as Professor McGonagall lowered the battered hat onto her head, its brim twitching the moment it settled in place.McGonagall’s gaze softened just slightly. “One at a time, please.”

“You go first, Lyra,” Cassie said, giving her a gentle nudge.

“Really?” Lyra glanced back at her, eyes wide.

Cassie nodded firmly. “Go on.”

With a quick breath, Lyra stepped forward. Cassie watched as Professor McGonagall lowered the battered hat onto her head, its brim twitching the moment it settled in place.

Lyra went still, her shoulders stiff at first before slowly relaxing. Her lips parted just slightly, as though she were listening to someone Cassie couldn’t hear. Cassie leaned forward unconsciously, desperate to know what the Hat was saying, what it was seeing in Lyra. But of course, it was silent to everyone else.

A minute stretched longer than Cassie thought it should. She held her breath, her hands tightening in her lap. Then—

"GRYFFINDOR!"

MMcGonagall removed the hat as Lyra whipped around, her eyes sparkling. "Guess I’m in Gryffindor!" she said, practically bouncing with excitement.

Cassie laughed softly, feeling a flutter of happiness for her new friend.

"Congrats" she said quietly stepping forward. McGonagall gently lowered the Sorting Hat onto her head, the falling over her eyes.

She pushed it up when a voice echoed in her mind—soft, curious, and probing. Ah… you are clever, perceptive, and cautious. You think before you act. You have a keen sense of right and wrong… but you hide your courage behind careful planning.

Cassie felt a flutter of surprise. But don’t you see? the voice pressed. There’s bravery in you too—bravery you only show to those you trust. You are loyal, steadfast… perhaps even bold when the moment demands it.

Her chest tightened. Bold? Brave? she thought. She had spent so long with only Remus, trying to stay safe, trying not to let the world in… and now, the Hat was asking her to see herself differently.

You will be tested, of course. Danger and challenge will seek you, as it seeks all of Hogwarts’ children. But your heart… your heart will guide you.

Cassie felt a swell of something like pride, mixed with fear. I… I want to do the right thing. I want to be brave.

The voice hummed, satisfied. Very well. Yes… you belong in…"

"GRYFFINDOR!" the voice said out loud.

McGonagall removed the hat from her head, and Cassie spun to meet Lyra’s eyes. “Looks like I’m in Gryffindor too!” she exclaimed, stepping forward to give Lyra a quick, excited hug.

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles. “Ah, Gryffindor! Splendid choice,” he said warmly. “And I see… you two already share quite a bond.” He leaned slightly on his desk, the corners of his mouth curling in amusement. “Such camaraderie makes it all the more fitting for you to share a dormitory.”

Lyra glanced at Cassie, a mixture of surprise and delight lighting her face. Cassie’s lips twitched into a grin. Hogwarts had a way of making the impossible feel perfectly natural.

“Normally, you’d have two other students dorming with you,” Dumbledore continued, “but given your situations and your arrival for the fifth year, you will be sharing a dorm—just the two of you.”

“Really?” Lyra asked, a little too excitedly.

“Yes,” Dumbledore said with a nod. “Arguably the best-case scenario, but…” He pressed a finger to his lips with a playful shush. “But,” he added with a mischievous smile, “before you start celebrating, I believe Professor McGonagall has a few questions for you both.”

At the sound of the door creaking open, Minerva McGonagall stepped in, her sharp gaze softening as it landed on the two girls. “Ah, Miss Thorne, Miss Lark,” she said briskly, “I need to know which electives you might wish to take this year. Once I have that, I can ensure your timetables are arranged properly.”

“What are the options?” Lyra asked, a little sheepishly.

“Arithmancy, Muggle Studies, Divination, Study of Ancient Runes, and Care of Magical Creatures,” McGonagall stated matter-of-factly.

“Let’s do Care of Magical Creatures and Divination,” Lyra said cheerily.

McGonagall wrote them down, then turned to Cassie expectantly.

“Arithmancy and Ancient Runes,” Cassie said, and McGonagall jotted it down. “And, Professor… do you know if there are any classes on healing?”

“There are no specific classes,” McGonagall replied, “but I’m sure if you spoke with Madame Pomfrey—are you interested in healing?”

“Very much so,” Cassie said.

McGonagall gave Dumbledore a knowing look, one that Cassie caught instantly.

“I was wondering if there are any healing tracks… I don’t know, it’s just what I want to do one day,” Cassie explained.

“I will inform Madame Pomfrey for you, but both Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, along with Herbology and Potions, will all help in your healing endeavors,” McGonagall said.

“Thank you, Professor,” Cassie replied.

McGonagall handed both girls their new timetables "your common room is behind the portrait of the fat lady, the password is Fortuna major" the both girls turned for the door.

“Thank you!” Lyra called after her.

“Miss Lark, one more thing—can we speak with you?” Dumbledore asked.

“Uh…” Cassie looked at Lyra, then back to the professors. “Yeah, I’ll… um, meet you out there,” she said to Lyra.

“Kay,” Lyra said, opening one of the oak doors and slipping out.

“Everything all right, Professor?” Cassie asked once they were alone.

“Yes,” Dumbledore said gently. “Professor McGonagall and I wanted to ask you something.”

“Take a seat, Miss Lark,” McGonagall said, gesturing to a chair.

Nerves bubbled in Cassie’s stomach. She’d never been to the Headmaster’s office—mostly because she’d never even been to school before.

Cassie took a tentative seat, hands folded in her lap. Dumbledore’s eyes softened behind his spectacles, while McGonagall regarded her with her usual sharp attentiveness.

“Miss Lark,” Dumbledore began, “I’ve known of Remus’ lycanthropy since he was a boy. And I also know from my visit that you’ve been with him—”

“Twelve years,” Cassie finished, her voice quiet but steady. “And patched him up after full moons for as long as I can remember.”

“And we’d like for you to continue, if that’s what you wish,” McGonagall said.

Dumbledore nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. “Your dedication is extraordinary, Miss Lark. It is rare to see such unwavering loyalty and care at any age, let alone yours.”

McGonagall’s gaze softened slightly. “Indeed. And it is precisely because of this… experience, this devotion, that we would like to entrust you with a special responsibility at Hogwarts this year.”

Cassie’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Responsibility?”

Dumbledore smiled gently. “We would like to make you a prefect, Miss Lark. In this role, you will have the authority and support to continue assisting Mr. Lupin, ensuring he is properly cared for, without unnecessary obstacles.”

McGonagall handed Cassie a shiny red pin that read Prefect.

“That would be amazing,” Cassie said, her eyes lighting up. She looked down at the pin in her hand. “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome, Cassie,” Dumbledore said kindly. “It’s clear he means a great deal to you.”

“He’s my family,” Cassie replied softly.

Dumbledore smiled and gave a small nod. “Thank you, Miss Lark. That is all.”

With a grin, Cassie turned and made her way out of the office.

Lyra was waiting in the corridor. “What’d they want?” she asked as they started toward Gryffindor Tower.

“They actually made me prefect!” Cassie said, holding up the pin.

“Brilliant! That’s amazing, Cass!” Lyra cheered.

“Thanks. I just think it’s mad they’d make a girl they barely know a prefect,” Cassie said, though she knew half the reason why.

“But they know your godfather, right? He went here?” Lyra asked.

“Yeah, he did,” Cassie said with a small smile.

“Then maybe Dumbledore has a good judge of character—or maybe he believes you’re just like him.”

“He’d be right. I’m just like Remus,” Cassie said with a chuckle.

The girls continued walking until they stood before the portrait of the Fat Lady. She was singing—and it wasn’t good.

Cassie cleared her throat. “’Scuse me?”

Nothing. The Fat Lady kept singing.

“Ma’am, um… Fortuna Major?” Lyra tried.

Still nothing.

Cassie leaned toward Lyra, whispering, “How are we supposed to get inside?”

“Fortuna Major!” Lyra said louder.

The portrait didn’t stir.

Cassie gave Lyra a look and nodded. Lyra instantly understood.

“Excuse me!” they both shouted in unison.

The Fat Lady finally stopped, blinking at them. “Oh! Hello there,” she said sweetly. “Password?”

“Fortuna Major,” Cassie said.

“Welcome to Gryffindor common room,” the Fat Lady replied, swinging open.

“Thank you!” Lyra said brightly.

“Thanks,” Cassie echoed as they stepped inside.

The portrait swung open, and instead of the quiet, firelit haven Cassie had been told about, she and Lyra were blasted by thundering music and flashing lights that pulsed across the walls like fireworks.

The Gryffindor common room—normally warm and cozy with its deep-red armchairs, squashy couches, and golden glow from the fire—had been completely transformed. Every inch of space was filled with students laughing, dancing, and shouting over the music. Streamers of scarlet and gold twisted themselves through the rafters, and enchanted lanterns bobbed overhead, casting bursts of shifting color across the crowd. The air smelled faintly of butterbeer and something sugary that sparkled as it fizzed in people’s cups.

Cassie and Lyra exchanged a look. Lyra was grinning ear to ear, while Cassie’s smile was more apprehensive than anything. Lyra started nodding, her eyes glittering with mischief.

“Oh no,” Cassie said quickly. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking we’re going to our dorm, changing, and then coming right back down to this party,” Lyra declared.

“But we have class tomorrow,” Cassie protested, waving her timetable like evidence.

“Have you ever been to a party like this?” Lyra asked, crossing her arms.

“I’ve never been to a party at all, but—”

“All the more reason,” Lyra cut in. “We’re going.” She grabbed Cassie’s hand before she could argue further.

“This is a bad idea!” Cassie called over the pounding music as Lyra pulled her toward the staircase.

“The best ideas are,” Lyra shot back with a grin.

Up in their dorm, Lyra wasted no time flipping open Cassie’s trunk and rummaging through it like it was her own. She pulled out a green tank top.

“Lyra—” Cassie started, trying to grab it back.

“Nope, no arguments,” Lyra said firmly. “You’re not going to that party looking like a grandpa.”

Cassie glanced down at her sweater. “It’s Remus’.”

“And you can wear it anytime,” Lyra countered, holding up the tank top, “but tonight you’re wearing this.”

Cassie sighed, snatched it from her, and tugged it on reluctantly.

Lyra beamed, giving her an approving once-over. “See? You look cute.”

“I feel naked,” Cassie complained.

“Well, you’re not, drama queen,” Lyra shot back.

Cassie sighed again, pulling her wand from the trunk and twisting it into her hair.

Lyra’s eyes lit up. “That is smart and fashionable.”

“Never go anywhere without it,” Cassie said. “Even when Remus took me to London, it was tucked away, hidden, but there if I needed it.”

“Oh… yeah… me too,” Lyra said quickly, then cleared her throat. “Ready to go down?”

“If I have to,” Cassie muttered.

“You do,” Lyra said with a grin.

The girls descended the spiral staircase, the thump of music growing louder with every step. When they stepped into the common room, it was clear the party hadn’t slowed down one bit since they’d first walked in. If anything, it had gotten wilder.

The minute they stepped foot in the common room, Lyra was gone, already off on her own adventure. Cassie didn’t necessarily mind—though, Lyra had been the one to drag her down there—but now the couches in the corner seemed to be calling her name.

Sighing, she walked over and flopped down onto the cushions. Surprisingly, they were empty for a party, and Cassie was grateful for the space. The only thing that could make it better would be a book.

She had kind of zoned out, staring at a plant, when someone plopped down next to her, holding a cup in her line of sight. Startled, she looked up and found a familiar face—one of the boys from the train. She raised an eyebrow quizzically, though her expression wasn’t exactly friendly. Her mind flashed back to earlier that day, when she’d nearly had her head blown off.

“No firework this time,” he teased, a grin tugging at his lips. “Sorry again—my brother’s an idiot.”

Cassie rolled her eyes, thinking back to that mischievous, unapologetic grin she wanted to slap off his face—

“Remind me of your name,” George said, ripping her from her thoughts.

“Cassie.”

“George,” he replied. “It’s nice to formally meet you.”

Cassie smiled genuinely. “Nice to meet you too.” Her eyes flicked to the cup he was still holding in front of her. “Oh, I’m sorry—I don’t drink.”

“Figured,” George said. “It’s just pumpkin juice.”

“That obvious, huh?” Cassie asked.

“From your reaction to my brother accidentally shooting a firework at you, I wouldn’t pin you for someone who enjoys alcohol,” George said.

Cassie shook her head, laughing. “You’d be right.” She took a sip of pumpkin juice and asked, “So… who threw this party, anyway?”

“Fred and I,” George said.

“You know, I’m almost shocked—but no, I’m not,” Cassie replied with a grin.

“Yeah,” George said, leaning back on the couch. “Started in our second year, and it just kind of became a tradition.”

“And you’ve never gotten caught?” Cassie asked.

George shook his head. “Nope. Shocker, I know.”

“I’d say luck,” Cassie said, smirking.

Suddenly, a voice cut through the music. “George! Who are you flirting with?”

Both girls looked over to see George’s twin grinning at them.

George rolled his eyes, leaning back with a lazy smirk. “I’m not—”

Fred’s gaze swung to Cassie, and his grin widened into full recognition. “Well, well, well… look who it is!”

Cassie shut her eyes. “Oh, great,” she muttered under her breath.

“No need to be that way,” Fred said, making his way over to Cassie’s side of the couch and leaning on the armrest.

George snorted beside her. “Fred, leave her alone.”

Fred’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Oh, sure. But first, I think we need a proper introduction.” He winked at Cassie, making her jaw tighten.

“Oh, trying to be cute, are we?” Cassie shot back.

“Cute? Hear that, Georgie? She thinks I’m cute!” Fred said, voice full of playful triumph.

Cassie clenched her fists, nearly crushing the plastic cup in her hand.

“Cass!” Lyra called, dancing her way over to them.

“Glad to see you’re having fun,” Cassie said, her tone half-teasing, half-exasperated.

“I am,” Lyra said, her eyes flicking to the cup. “Cassie Lark! Is that a drink in your hand?”

“Pumpkin juice,” Cassie said quickly, holding it up as proof.

George cleared his throat beside her, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, sorry,” Cassie said, turning to them. “Lyra, these are Fred and George.” She gestured to the twins. “Twins, this is Lyra Thorne.”

Cassie’s eyes flicked between Lyra and George, and she couldn’t help but notice the way they locked gazes for a brief moment. Lyra’s grin softened, just a fraction, and George’s usual mischievous smirk seemed a little warmer, almost… genuine.

Cassie blinked. Uh-huh. Perfect. Sparks flying while I get to sit here and watch.

“What, jealous, Lark?” Fred asked, leaning closer with that infuriating grin.

“Shut up,” Cassie snapped, not even looking at him. “Just… shut up.” She sank deeper into the couch, shutting her eyes against the noise and chaos around her.

This was either going to be the best… or the worst year at Hogwarts.

Chapter Text

After the party, Cassie trudged up the stairs, thankful she’d stuck to pumpkin juice. When the sun slipped through the curtains the next morning, her eyes stung from lack of sleep. She wasn’t even sure what time she’d made it back to her dorm. Apparently she’d forgotten to close the drapes, but the morning light had done its job—she was awake.

Rolling over, she checked the clock—just past six. Early, but she didn’t mind. Better to be early than behind. He eyes drifted to Lyras bed across the room. Empty. Cassie wasn’t concerned. After Lyra and George had met, they were inseparable all night. Meanwhile Fred had pestered Cassie until she finally left. Merlin, he was a nuisance.

She only hoped Lyra was still in the common room. She didn’t bother changing out of her pajamas. She shoved off her duvet, sliding her feet into slippers and padded back down to the common room. To her surprise, the place was spotless—perks of magic I guess.

Cassie’s eyes swept the room, and—no surprise—there was Lyra, curled up on the couch with a blanket tucked over her shoulders. Across from her, George had blacked out in an armchair, limbs folded at odd angles as if the chair had swallowed him whole. Cassie smirked to herself; he’d definitely be paying for that position later.

A sleepy smile tugged at her lips as Cassie padded over and crouched beside Lyra.

“Lyr,” she whispered, giving her shoulder a gentle shake. “Lyra.”

Lyra’s eyes cracked open, unfocused at first, like her brain was still trying to catch up.
“Cassie… hi,” she mumbled groggily. “Mm, what time is it?” She rubbed at her eyes.

“Just past six. Breakfast isn’t for an hour—you’ve got time.”

Lyra only nodded, dragging herself upright. “Think I’m gonna shower,” she muttered.

Cassie chuckled softly. “Good plan. You definitely smell like a party.”

Lyra gave her a look that was more squint than glare, then turned for the stairs. “My head hurts,” she grumbled, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders as she disappeared up toward the dorms.

Cassie waited until her footsteps faded before turning her attention to freckle-face. George was still slumped awkwardly in the armchair, dead to the world. He might’ve been the nicer twin, but she had a few questions for him, and frankly, his sleeping habits weren’t important to her.

“George,” she called flatly.

His eyes snapped open instantly, body jerking upright as if he’d been jolted by a curse. Wand half-drawn, he blinked around wildly before landing on Cassie.

“Merlin’s beard—” he exhaled, sagging back into the chair. “You trying to give me a heart attack, Lark?”

Cassie raised an unimpressed brow. “I said your name. Not exactly a battle cry.”

“Right, I’m up,” he said, throwing his hands in the air. “Whatcha want?”

“Lyra—she okay last night?” Cassie asked, gesturing to the empty couch.

George grinned, a little fondly. “Yeah, we talked until the common room emptied out. Then she crashed. Totally fine.”

“And she had fun, right?” Cassie added with a smirk, already knowing the answer.

George’s grin softened, a hint of something almost shy in his expression. “Yeah… she laughed a lot. I think she liked it. More than I probably did.”

His ears were tinged pink, and as much as Cassie wanted to comment, she swallowed it, content knowing Lyra had been taken care of.

“You put the blanket on her?” Cassie asked.

George nodded. “Yeah. It gets cold up here, even with the fire.”

Cassie nodded in response.

“Were you worried?” George asked.

“No, I was actually too tired to think about it last night,” she chuckled.

She wasn’t worried, not really. But a small, protective tug lingered in her chest—Lyra had been the first person Cassie had truly connected with at Hogwarts, after expecting to be alone.

“She was safe, Cassie,” George said.

“I believe you,” she teased, then softened, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, cracking his neck with a hiss. “Bloody Merlin’s beard… never sleeping in that chair like that again.” He pushed himself upright.

Cassie shook her head, chuckling quietly.

“See you two at breakfast then?” he asked, already heading for the stairs.

“Will your brother be there?” she asked with a grumble.

“I have, like, a million siblings—they’ll all be there. But yes, to your dismay, Fred will be there,” George said.

Cassie groaned, hunching over and letting her arms drop as she trudged toward the stairs.

When she pushed open the door to their room, the curtains were drawn, and Lyra was tucked into bed, fast asleep. Cassie sighed, stepping in and shutting the door behind her.

“Lyraaa,” Cassie sang to the melody of Maria from West Side Story, an American film Remus had shown her (she wasn’t sure why). She liked the music—it often got stuck in her head—and she much preferred it to Romeo and Juliet. “Lyra, Lyra,” she continued.

Lyra flopped a hand over her face. “What?” she croaked.

“Do you want to eat breakfast or not?” Cassie asked, crossing her arms.

It was like Cassie had spoken the magic words. Lyra’s ears visibly perked up at the thought of Hogwarts’ delicious food. She sat up like a zombie emerging from a coffin. “Food?”

“Yes, food! And what happened to showering?” Cassie asked, tilting her head.

“Yeah yeah, mum,” Lyra said flatly, shuffling toward the bathroom.

Cassie smiled smugly and turned to her trunk. It was already a mess after she’d tiredly dug through it for pajamas the night before—shirts and trousers spilling out the sides. She had insisted on bringing far too much, so there was an extension charm on it; a near bottomless pit of her belongings. Sighing, she opened the wardrobe in front of her to start putting things away.

Two sets of Gryffindor uniforms and robes hung neatly in the center. That explained why robes hadn’t been on their supply list. On either side were cubbies of varying sizes for their clothes, with a shelf above perfectly fitted for their trunks. Below were two drawers, already filled with winter accessories—scarves, mittens, beanies, and more.

The shower shut off, followed by Lyra’s voice. “Hey, Cass, you think you can bring me clothes?”

The shower shut off, followed by Lyra’s voice. “Hey, Cass, you think you can bring me clothes?”

“I actually just found our robes,” Cassie called back. “Give me two seconds.”

Collecting what Lyra would need, Cassie knocked twice. The door cracked open and steam curled into the dorm, warm air brushing her face. She chuckled.

Lyra, wrapped in a towel, dried her hands on it quickly before taking the clothes. “Thank you!” she said brightly.

Cassie nodded with a small smile, turning back toward the trunk. The sight of it made her sigh again. “I’ll do it later,” she muttered, moving to grab her own uniform from the wardrobe.

Moments later, Lyra emerged in full Gryffindor getup. She twirled once. “How do I look?”

“Oh, magnificent,” Cassie said—teasing, but genuine.

Lyra’s eyes flicked to the robes in Cassie’s hands. “Your turn. Go.” She was already shoving Cassie toward the bathroom.

“Alright, alright,” Cassie chuckled, batting her away and closing the door behind her. Both girls were buzzing with excitement for their first real day at Hogwarts, but Lyra practically radiated it.

When Cassie came out, adjusting her tie, Lyra was sitting cross-legged on her bed, twisting her hair around her wand.

“What are you doing?” Cassie asked, brow raised.

“Fixing my hair. This is way easier than using my fingers.”

Cassie tilted her head, impressed despite herself. “That is… very practical.”

Lyra grinned. “Kind of stole the idea from you, actually. You used your wand to tie your hair back last night.”

“Keeps it out of my face,” Cassie shrugged.

“Exactly. And you’ll have to show me how to do that. But the wand’s the perfect size for stubborn curls.”

Cassie smirked, twisting her wand into her own hair. “Great minds think alike. All ready, then?”

“Definitely.”

They collected their things—timetables most important—and headed down toward the Great Hall. Cassie kept hers in hand, trying to commit the schedule to memory. It wasn’t the classes she worried about, it was finding them in a castle this size. Hopefully she’d make it through the day without embarrassing herself too much.

Lyra, meanwhile, was staring at everything with wide-eyed awe. She’d been too caught up in the Sorting and getting to their dorm the night before to really look. Now, the castle’s endless bits of magic had her gawking like a first-year tourist.

“Lyra,” Cassie said, pulling her back. “What classes do you have today?”

“Potions and Tranfiguration before lunch, care of Magical Creatures and Charms after. You?”

“Ancient Runes, free period, Herbology, then History of Magic. Haven’t decided if I want to see Pomfrey during my free period or after—I kind of want to check in on Remus.”

“I’d love to actually meet him at some point,” Lyra said. “You speak so highly of him.”

“It’s Remus. He’s the best.” Cassie smirked. “And now he’s Professor Lupin.”

There was a beat before she snorted. “No way in hell am I ever calling him ‘Professor Lupin.’”

“Wouldn’t that be disrespecting a teacher?” Lyra teased, her eyes glinting.

Cassie smirked wider. “I call him ‘old man’ at home. Besides, if Remus ever tried giving me detention—which I highly doubt he would—he’d never hear the end of it.”

Lyra burst out laughing, which only made Cassie laugh too.

“You’re a menace,” Lyra said, shaking her head.

Cassie nudged her shoulder. “Shut up.”

Passing the threshold into the Great Hall, still giggling, they were hit with the smell of breakfast—warm bread, sizzling bacon, and roasted tomatoes invading their nostrils in the best possible way.

At the Gryffindor table, chaos was already in full swing. Fred and George were flicking bits of toast back and forth with their wands like it was a professional sport, laughing as if the concept of rules didn’t exist.

Lyra’s eyes lingered on George—just for a second—but Cassie caught it. Her lips tilted into the kind of smile that gave her away immediately.

Cassie narrowed her eyes, smirking. “I saw that.”

Lyra blinked, wide-eyed. “Saw what?”

“That look. Don’t play dumb, Thorne.” Cassie arched a brow. “I saw you two frolicking off at the party last night, leaving me all alone.” She put on a mock pout. “And now this. You’ve got a little thing for him, don’t you?”

Lyra flushed, eyes darting down to cobbled floor. “I don’t know. Maybe? It’s too soon to tell.”

Cassie leaned in, smug as ever. “Uh-huh. ‘Too soon.’ Yeah, right. Forgive me if I don’t exactly buy that.”

Lyra only shrugged, but a smile tugged at her lips. “Guess we’ll have to see.”

From the table, George spotted them and waved them over.

Cassie groaned under her breath, rolling her eyes at both her friend and the cruel twist of fate she already knew was coming: Lyra would beeline for George, and Cassie would end up exactly where she least wanted to be—planted next to Fred.

“Good morning, Larkie,” he said as she slipped onto the bench beside him.

“It was good,” she grumbled, already regretting sitting down.

Across from her, Lyra had nestled comfortably next to George, and the two were chatting away like they’d been friends for years.

“Sleep well?” George asked, voice soft.

Lyra nodded, ears tinged pink. “That couch is more comfortable than I thought.”

“So, Larkie,” Fred broke in, leaning far too close. “What’d you think of the party?”

Cassie winced at the nickname. “It was… fine, I guess.”

“Fine?” Fred gasped in mock scandal, clutching his chest. “Georgie, sounds like we’ve got to up our party game.”

“Huh?” George blinked, dragged from his conversation with Lyra. “What?” He glanced at his brother in confusion, then immediately turned back to Lyra without waiting for an explanation.

The corner of Cassie’s mouth betrayed her, quirking up.

“Ah, so she does smile,” Fred crowed triumphantly.

Her smile dropped instantly as she turned her head, glaring at him in silence.

Fred only gave a smug shrug and turned back to his plate, utterly pleased with himself. Cassie rolled her eyes and finally gave in to the heavenly smell of breakfast wafting through the Hall—she was hungrier than she thought.

She picked up her fork, stabbing two pieces of French toast and sliding them onto her plate before filling her glass with orange juice.

“Careful, Larkie,” Fred drawled, plucking a napkin and dropping it neatly into her lap. “Wouldn’t want you to stain those perfectly pressed robes.”

Cassie arched a brow. “Right, thanks, Mum. Got a bib in that pocket of yours too?”

He grinned. “Don’t tempt me. I could charm one up.”

Cassie muttered something under her breath about how he probably needed one more than she did, cutting into her French toast with more force than necessary.

Across the table, George leaned toward Lyra, his expression softening. “So, first impressions of Hogwarts?”

Lyra’s eyes lit up. “Even better than I imagined. I feel like I could spend days just wandering the castle. Have you ever gotten lost?”

George chuckled. “Only about a hundred times. But getting lost is half the fun.”

Cassie glanced up at the sound of Lyra’s laugh, catching the way George’s gaze lingered on her friend a little too long.

“So,” he said with mock seriousness, “what do you think of the breakfast, Larkie? Or is French toast only ‘fine, I guess,’ too?”

Cassie narrowed her eyes, her fork clinking against her plate. “Careful, Weasley. I might decide this fork works just as well on you.”

“No need to be violent,” he teased, leaning just a little closer. His voice dropped into something conspiratorial. “Those two are already getting along so well, aren’t they?”

“Yep.” Cassie said flatly, scooping eggs onto her plate.

“I mean, they were practically attached at the hip all last night,” Fred went on. “Barely even saw my own twin—the closest I got was a look in the mirror.”

Cassie turned her head, startled to find him much closer than she expected. Her brows arched. “Do you need something, or do you just plan on jabbering my ear off?”

Fred only grinned wider at her sharp tone, clearly delighted. “Jabbering, mostly. It’s one of my many talents. Some say it’s charming.”

“Oh, is that how you get the girls?” she asked, taking a sip of orange juice. “They think it’s cute, don’t they? ‘So charming,’” she mocked, clasping her hands together in an exaggerated swoon.

“Ouch.” He clutched his chest theatrically. “Right to the heart. You wound me, Larkie.”

“Good. Maybe you’ll shut up for five minutes.”

“Not likely,” he said easily, leaning back just enough to swipe another piece of toast. He took a slow, exaggerated bite, never breaking eye contact. “Face it—you’d miss me if I stopped talking.”

Cassie shot him a glare that could curdle milk, but Fred only smirked wider.

Across the table, Lyra laughed at something George said, their conversation animated and easy. Fred tilted his head toward them, mischief dancing in his eyes. “See? They’ve already got their little thing. Guess that just leaves us, doesn’t it?”

Cassie grimaced. “Merlin forbid.”

Before Fred could push her buttons further, her eye caught the trio entering the Great Hall—Ron, Harry, and Hermione. They were focused on a boy at the Slytherin table, who seemed to be putting on an impressively dramatic reenactment of the train ride, complete with an exaggerated swoon and high-pitched squeals.

“Morning, George,” Harry greeted flatly as he slid onto the bench on George’s other side. George grinned, shifting just enough to make space, and Lyra’s smile brightened instinctively.

Ron dropped down beside Fred with a muttered, “Starving,” already piling eggs and bacon onto his plate.

And then Hermione appeared, sliding into the empty seat next to Cassie. Relief bloomed in Cassie’s chest at the unexpected rescue.

“Morning,” Hermione said warmly, already reaching for the jug of pumpkin juice.

“Morning,” Cassie echoed with a grateful nod, sparing Fred one last withering look across Hermione’s head.

Fred only smirked knowingly, clearly enjoying that her reprieve was temporary at best.

“Third-year timetables,” George said, passing them along. He noticed the annoyed look on Harry’s face. He glanced at the Slytherin table, then back. “Malfoy’s a git, Harry. Don’t let him bother you.”

Hermione, who had been quiet the whole time was focused on her schedule

“Yeah, Harry,” Fred added. “He wasn’t so bold last night when the Dementors came down our end of the train.”

George chuckled. “Came running straight into our compartment, didn’t he, Fred?”

“Nearly wet himself at the sight,” Fred said, grinning.

“It does put things in perspective,” George said. “I mean, Dementors suck the life out of everything.”

“Our compartment was bloody freezing,” Fred said.

“Ours too,” Cassie added, glancing at Harry.

“Yeah, but you lot didn’t pass out, did you?” Harry snapped, his voice low.

“Forget about it, Harry,” Cassie replied.

“Yeah, mate,” George assured him, “had Malfoy come face-to-face with a Dementor, he’d have fainted too.”

“Word travels fast here,” Lyra said, wide-eyed.

“Indeed it does,” George confirmed.

“How do you two know so much about Dementors?” Ron asked confused.

“Dad went to Azkaban with the Ministry and told us about them, remember, Fred?” George said.

“He said it was cold and gray… and that he saw prisoners who had gone mad in there.”

“You reckon Black went mad?” Ron asked, brow furrowed.

“Black was already mad,” Harry said quietly. “He’s the reason my parents are gone.”

Cassie’s eye twitched at the reminder.

“All this to say, Harry,” George said with a grin, “the first Quidditch match is Gryffindor versus Slytherin. Let’s see how happy Malfoy is after that one.”

During the conversation, Hermione had been quietly scanning her timetable.

“Oh, we’re starting new subjects today. Good,” she said happily.

Cassie leaned over just as Ron got up and came around the back to look over Hermione’s shoulder.

“Uh, Hermione…” he frowned after scanning her schedule, pointing at the parchment. “I think they messed up your schedule. They’ve got you down for ten subjects a day—there isn’t enough time in the day for that.”

“Don’t worry, Ron,” Hermione said briskly. “I’ll manage. I’ve already spoken with McGonagall.”

“Hang on, that’s not possible.” Ron jabbed at the parchment again. “Ancient Runes is at the same time as Divination. You’d have to be in two classes at once.”

“Don’t be silly, Ronald. How could anyone be in two classes at once?” she said, making the table laugh.

“I’m just saying, maybe check that out one more time,” Ron muttered.

“I just have a full schedule, Ron. I’ll survive. As I said, I spoke with McGonagall.”

Just then, the huge man Dumbledore had introduced last night—Hagrid—entered the Great Hall. He wore a moleskin overcoat, with a dead rodent dangling from one hand and more strung around his neck like grotesque accessories.

Cassie grimaced.

“All righ’?” Hagrid asked cheerily, stopping at their table, his country twang thick. He beamed at the trio. “Yer in my firs’ ever lesson after lunch! Bin up since five gettin’ everythin’ ready. Can’t believe I’m a teacher!” He grinned broadly, then lumbered off toward the staff table, still swinging the rodent.

“What do you think he’s been getting ready?” Ron asked anxiously.

“I’m not sure,” Harry said, “but we’d better go. Divination’s at the top of North Tower—it’ll take at least ten minutes to get there.”

The boys stood and started off, leaving Cassie to turn to Hermione.

“So, you’ve got Ancient Runes this morning?” Cassie asked.

“Yes! Do you?” Hermione’s eyes lit up.

Cassie nodded. “Shall we go then, Miss Granger?”

“We shall, Miss…”

“Lark,” Fred cut in helpfully.

“Sod off, Weasley,” Cassie said, rolling her eyes. She stood and grabbed Hermione’s wrist. “We’re going. Bye, Lyra. Bye, George.”

Both offered their goodbyes.

“See you later, Larkie!” Fred called after her.

“Hopefully won’t!” she shot back over her shoulder.

“So you’re still bickering?” Hermione asked as they left the Great Hall.

“He hasn’t stopped bothering me since yesterday,” Cassie said, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“He’s incessant,” Hermione agreed. “They both are.”

“George is actually rather nice to me. I like him more. Plus, I think he might have a little thing for my dorm mate.”

“That the girl sitting next to him?” Hermione asked. “I meant to introduce myself—say hello.”

“I’ll introduce you two later if you'd like,” Cassie promised.

“Thank you,” Hermione said warmly.

The two girls climbed their way up the stairs to the sixth floor, heading for Professor Babbling’s classroom. Hermione took the lead, clearly knowing the castle better than Cassie did.

“I wish I could have a guide all day,” Cassie muttered. “It’s so much easier than pulling out my timetable every five minutes.”

Hermione laughed. “I know. Before I even got here, I read the entirety of Hogwarts: A History. That helped a bit—but still, it wasn’t easy finding my way around this labyrinth of a school.”

“I read parts of Hogwarts: A History but never finished,” Cassie admitted. “Are your parents wizards?”

“No, they’re Muggles—dentists, actually. But they support me, and I’m grateful for that.” Hermione smiled, though she flushed slightly. “And Professor Lupin supports you, I assume?”

“Yeah, Moo—Remus is the best,” Cassie said quickly, correcting herself and hoping Hermione hadn’t caught the slip. “He’s supported me for years, and I’ve supported him in turn.”

Hermione tilted her head, curious. “And your parents? Are they magical as well?”

Cassie hesitated, her gaze dropping to the stone steps beneath their feet. “They were. Both healers. They passed when I was young, and Remus—being my godfather, like I told you on the train—he took me in.”

Hermione’s face fell. “Oh, Cassie, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up anything you wouldn’t want to—”

“It’s alright, Hermione. Really.” Cassie offered a small, steady smile. “I’m okay."

Hermione nodded in understanding, but her mind was already churning. “Healers, you said?”

Cassie nodded. “Yeah. Remus tells me they were brilliant. One day I hope I could get to even half of what they were.”

“Ah, so you want to be a Healer too?” Hermione asked, her eyes lighting with interest.

Cassie nodded again, a little more firmly this time. “Ever since I heard what my parents did for people… helping, healing—it just feels right. Like carrying them with me.”

Hermione smiled softly. “That’s wonderful, Cassie.”

“Thanks.” Cassie smiled sheepishly. “This is one of the classes I’ve read will help. Runes are a huge part of Healing,” she added as they reached the door.

“Oh, are they?” Hermione tilted her head. “I was curious about all the electives, so…I might have selected all of them.”

Cassie leaned against the stone wall just outside the classroom, brow furrowing. “Yeah, I noticed when I saw your timetable at breakfast. How—” She trailed off, giving Hermione a look.

Hermione glanced around quickly, then leaned in. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Cassie leaned in too, eyes gleaming. “Tell me.”

Hermione tugged something from beneath her collar—a delicate gold chain with a strange pendant. In its center was a tiny hourglass, framed by gold and circled with two delicate rings. “This is called a Time-Turner,” she whispered.

Cassie blinked. “What is it, some sort of time travel device?” she asked dryly.

“Exactly that.”

Cassie’s eyes widened, then she grinned. “Oh, wow. I am just a genius.”

Hermione tried not to laugh. “It’s how I can get to all those classes. Professor McGonagall gave it to me early this morning.”

Cassie shook her head with a smirk. “Hermione, you little sneak, you.”

Hermione shrugged, flashing a coy smile, then suddenly jabbed a finger beneath Cassie’s nose. “You tell nobody about this.”

Cassie raised both hands in surrender. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Good.” Hermione dropped her hand, though her eyes still glinted with warning.

Cassie chuckled. “You’re scary, ’Mione.”

“It’s how I get those boys to listen to me,” Hermione said primly. She nodded toward the door. “Now, I’m sure Professor Babbling is itching to start class.”

The girls took their seats as a few stragglers filtered into the room. When the classroom at last fell still and the last parchment was unrolled, Professor Babbling stood at the front.

“Good morning, students, and welcome to Ancient Runes,” she announced, her voice bright and businesslike.

The lesson began, the scrape of quills as students took notes filling the air.

By the time they were dismissed, Cassie had already finished half of the assignment and felt rather accomplished.

“I really liked that class,” Hermione said as they gathered their things.

“Professor Babbling is so knowledgeable,” Cassie gushed. “She’s like a total genius.”

Hermione smiled in agreement. “And the way she explains the etymology of the runes—it’s fascinating. I’m glad I chose this subject.”

“I’m glad too,” Cassie said as they walked together into the corridor, books clutched to their chests. “If every class feels like that, I might actually survive this year.”

They laughed softly, their voices echoing against the stone walls as they walked toward the staircases.

“I’m going up,” Cassie said, shifting her books in her arms. “I’m going to visit Remus, see how he’s doing.”

“That’s sweet,” Hermione said with a smile. “I’m off to my next two classes.” She gave a little laugh, shaking her head. “Hopefully I can keep up.”

“You’ll manage,” Cassie teased. “You’ve got time on your side, after all.”

Hermione rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her grin. “See you at lunch?”

“Definitely—you’re my saving grace against Fred.” Cassie waved as they split off at the stairs, each heading their separate ways.

Cassie found Defence Against the Dark Arts easily enough, her timetable pointing her to the seventh floor.

Pushing open the door, she stepped into a room half-buried in stacks of boxes and bare bookshelves. Remus stood with his back to her, arms folded as though he were surveying the chaos. He hadn’t heard her enter. With a soft click, she shut the door behind her.

“Hey, Moony!” Cassie called brightly.

Remus turned, a tired look on his face, though his arms relaxed when he saw her. “Thank Merlin you’re here. I wasn’t sure I’d manage all this on my own.”

“So basically you’re using me as your personal slave,” Cassie teased.

“That’s why I agreed to be your godfather,” Remus replied dryly.

“Ouch, Moons.” Cassie clutched her chest in mock offence. “Love you too.”

Remus chuckled as Cassie eyed the empty bookshelves.

“How’s your morning been?” she asked, slipping off her cloak and hanging it neatly on the coat hanger by the door.

“Good. Filch dropped these off earlier,” Remus said, nodding to the stack of boxes. “McGonagall’s given me today to get everything in order. Classes start for me tomorrow.”

“That’s nice,” Cassie said.

Remus raised an eyebrow at her. “Shouldn’t you be in class, young lady?”

“This is my class, old man,” she retorted, already crouching beside a stack of books. “I’ve got a free period.”

“Oh, do you now?” Remus said, amused.

Cassie nodded. “Meaning I’ll be hanging out in here every Thursday from 10:15 to 11:45.” She’d already begun sorting through the pile, separating textbooks from novels and shelving them with ease.

“Not being a distraction, of course,” Remus remarked.

“Of course not,” Cassie said sweetly, plucking a book from the stack and setting it aside for herself.

Behind her, Remus dug into a box and pulled out their home record player. Carrying it over to the table by the window, he set it down and began fiddling with the knobs.

Cassie glanced over, a smile spreading across her face. “You brought it?”

“Of course I brought it,” Remus said without looking up. “I’m barely surviving on my own—music might be the only thing keeping me going.”

“Strike two, Moony,” Cassie warned, holding up two fingers.

“Only joking,” he said quickly, a faint grin tugging at his mouth.

Cassie rolled her eyes and went back to sorting. After about half an hour of steady organising, she had her own neat stack set aside. Straightening with a soft groan, she stretched until her hips popped in a satisfying way, then gathered the books in her arms.

Crossing to the coat rack by the door, she set them carefully on the floor next to her cloak so she wouldn’t forget them when she left.

“Your own personal library now, am I?” Remus asked, nodding toward the stack she’d made.

Cassie only shrugged as she wandered over to him. “Just using my resources.”

“We do have a rather large library here, Cass,” Remus pointed out, pulling a bundle of oddly shaped candles from the box—each one carved to look like a human spine.

Cassie eyed them warily as he set them down. “Right, but I doubt the library has the sort of things I’d actually want to read for leisure. I’ll save the old tomes and textbooks for study.”

“Fair enough,” Remus chuckled.

Cassie’s eyes roamed the half-unpacked room. “Is Madame Pomfrey the school’s matron?” Cassie asked, recalling her conversation with McGonagall.

Remus’s eyes went wide for a moment, though Cassie didn’t notice as she explored. “Y-yes, she is.”

“I asked McGonagall last night after the Sorting—”

Remus interrupted, a grin tugging at his lips. “I completely forgot to say something—congratulations on Gryffindor.”

Cassie whipped around to look at him. “I didn’t tell you—how—?”

Remus pointed at her tie.

Cassie nodded, then continued, turning back to look around the room. “So after the Sorting, I was asking Professor McGonagall about any healing courses. She said there aren’t any specifically, but that I should speak with Madame Pomfrey about it. That’s my plan for when I finish classes today.”

Remus was quiet, which made Cassie turn toward him, a line forming between her brows. His expression carried a faint, almost sad smile.

“What?” Cassie asked, concerned.

Remus sighed. “I guess I never told you about Poppy, did I?”

“Poppy? That a girl you dated or something?” Cassie asked, eyebrow raised.

Remus laughed. “No. Poppy Pomfrey. For seven years, she escorted me to the Shrieking Shack once a month, made sure I was safe, even arranged a spot in the hospital wing for me after the full moon if I needed it… all while genuinely caring for me. Closest I had to a mother while mine was in the hospital.”

Cassie smiled softly, both teasing and sincere. “So that’s how you survived Hogwarts all those years without accidentally killing anyone.”

“Yes, that is how I did that,” Remus said flatly. “Merlin,” he rubbed his face, “haven’t seen her in years. I should pay her a visit, let her know I’m alive.”

“Come with me then,” Cassie said. “I’m sure she’d be happy to see you. Plus, I might score some brownie points if she knows I’m your goddaughter who’s been patching you up for years.”

“You’re such a little schemer,” Remus said, shaking his head with a low chuckle.

“The offer still stands,” Cassie replied, a small grin tugging at her lips.

“Alright,” Remus said. “Meet you at the hospital wing after classes.”

Cassie clapped her hands gleefully. “See you after classes, then.” She pivoted back toward the coat hanger, slinging her cloak over her shoulder and scooping up the stack of books. “See you later, Moons. You’re welcome for the help.”

Remus chuckled. “See you later, Cass. And thanks for the help.”

With that, the door clicked shut behind her. The Gryffindor common room wasn’t far from the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, both tucked away on the seventh floor. After trying not to lose her temper with the Fat Lady’s portrait, she was finally admitted inside. She hurried upstairs, dropped the books on her bed, and threw her cloak back on before heading straight back out. Not before grabbing The Count of Monte Cristo from her bed and shoving it into her bag.

When Cassie slipped into the Great Hall and started toward the Gryffindor table, she barely registered Lyra barreling toward her until she was suddenly wrapped up in a hug.

“It’s been ages since I saw you!” Lyra exclaimed, clinging tight.

“Two classes,” Cassie laughed, still making her way to the table with Lyra hanging off her.

“Don’t push my love away,” Lyra whined, though she was laughing too.

At the Gryffindor table, the twins were already waiting. George sat with his arms crossed, leaning back on the bench, while Fred rested his chin in his hand, a self-satisfied smirk painted across his face.

Cassie narrowed her eyes at him as she once again slid onto the bench beside him, letting Lyra plop down next to George.

“How’s your morning been, larkie?” Fred asked smoothly.

“Fine,” Cassie replied lightly, scooping shepherd’s pie onto her plate. She immediately cut into it and popped a bite into her mouth, hoping the food would act as a barrier against further conversation.

She was gravely mistaken.

“I bet your classes this morning were so boring without me,” Fred said, swinging his legs over the bench, arms crossed as he leaned back against the table.

“Actually, I thought about how nice it was not to have you in my classes,” Cassie said, not looking up from her plate.

“Hear that, Georgie? She thinks about me.” Fred’s grin widened.

“You’re going to get yourself punched,” George said in a sing-song voice, earning a quiet giggle from Lyra.

“I think about how to avoid you,” Cassie shot back.

Fred leaned in, all mock seriousness. “Still counts.”

Cassie finally glanced at him, unimpressed. “You’re like a gnat in the summer.”

George snickered into his goblet.

“You’re quick, Larkie,” Fred said, his smirk softening for a fraction before snapping back to teasing as he flicked a green pea onto her plate.

“How much longer of lunch?” Cassie groaned, burying her face in her hands.

Lyra sucked in air through her teeth like it physically hurt. “It’s been ten minutes…”

Cassie groaned again, earning another round of laughter from the table.

“Come on, Thorne, you’re supposed to be on my side!” Cassie complained, shooting a look at her friend across from her.

Lyra cleared her throat, though the giggles escaping her betrayed her. “Team Cassie, always,” she said, saluting before cracking up.

Cassie snatched up the pea Fred had flicked onto her plate and sent it soaring—landing squarely between Lyra’s eyebrows. “You suck,” she muttered, a grin tugging at her lips.

Fred’s pestering had quieted as he ate his lunch while Lyra and George whispered back and forth, completely absorbed in each other. Cassie pulled her book from her bag, settling into a rare moment of peace. She’d gotten through two short chapters and was just starting the third when she felt Fred’s presence creep up behind her.

“Whatcha readin’?” he murmured, his breath brushing her neck.

Cassie wrinkled her nose, leaning slightly away. “The Count of Monte Cristo.”

“And… what’s it about?” he pressed.

“Well, I’m barely three chapters in,” she said flatly, eyes returning to the page.

“Any good?” Fred persisted, leaning just a little too close.

“Not sure yet,” Cassie replied, a hint of irritation in her voice. “I’m barely three chapters in.”

Fred fell quiet for a moment, letting Cassie dive back into her book. Then, both of them looked up as a burst of laughter cut through the air—Lyra, caught mid-whisper with George, clearly amused by something only the two of them understood.

Again, Fred leaned in. “They just keep getting closer, don’t they?”

Cassie didn’t look up from her book. “Both emotionally and physically,” she muttered.

Fred leaned back slightly, smirking. “I’d bet five Galleons they’re practically inseparable by the time exams roll around.”

Cassie peeked over her book, eyes narrowing at the pair in front of them, completely oblivious to the world. “You’re on,” she said, “By Christmas.”

Fred chuckled, shaking his head. “You’ve got guts, Larkie.”

As if sensing eyes on them, Lyra and George glanced back. Fred quickly looked away, whistling innocently. Cassie pressed her nose deeper into her book, hiding the smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

The second half of Cassie’s day passed quickly. Her first class after lunch was Herbology, which she genuinely enjoyed. Professor Sprout was kind, and she met a lovely boy named Neville, who had a remarkable affinity for plants. He seemed a bit nervous himself, but his presence helped Cassie feel at ease in the classroom.

Next was History of Magic with Professor Binns, who, as it happened, was a ghost. Cassie tried her absolute hardest to stay awake and pay attention, but his monotone voice was incredibly soothing, and, to be honest, she wasn’t particularly interested in goblin rebellions. By the end of class, she was thoroughly tired and tempted to head back to the dorm for a nap, but she reminded herself of her plan to meet Remus and visit Madame Pomfrey.

Making her way from the first floor up to the seventh, she spotted Remus at the end of the corridor—his tall, imposing figure making him seem almost giant-like—and followed him, grateful for the familiar presence guiding her straight to the hospital wing.

"Hey, Remus," Cassie waved as she approached him. "You got here quick."

"My class is on this floor," he reminded her.

"Oh, right," Cassie said with a shrug. "Well… are you ready?"

"No," Remus said flatly, arms crossed.

"Let's go then!" Cassie declared, grabbing his arm and tugging him toward the door.

When she pushed it open, the familiar smell of antiseptic mingled with the soft, herbal scent of lavender, washing over her. The hospital wing was bright and airy, the sunlight spilling through tall windows onto rows of pristine beds, each neatly made with crisp white sheets and small pillows. A few enchanted curtains hung between the beds, ready to provide privacy when needed, and the faint hum of softly glowing lamps added a gentle warmth to the room. Cassie’s eyes wandered over the orderly shelves lined with neatly labelled bottles, tinctures, and bandages, giving the place a quiet, purposeful calm that contrasted with the chaotic energy of Hogwarts’ other corridors.

Remus followed behind, his gaze scanning the room as if measuring it anew. "Both everything and nothing has changed."

"Be right with you!" a voice called from somewhere near the back.

"She sounds exactly the same," Remus murmured.

Cassie smiled, warmth blooming in her chest.

The clack of heels echoed against the polished stone floors, and moments later a woman with a kind face appeared around the corner. Her grey hair was neatly pulled back beneath a cap, its fabric trailing down her back. She wore a deep red cloak-dress with a crisp white apron over it. Her eyes landed on Cassie first, her expression gentle—until they lifted to the tall figure next to her. Her face faltered, not with sadness, but with sheer astonishment.

“R-Remus?” she breathed, her hands creeping toward her mouth.

Remus nodded, holding back a larger smile. “Hi, Poppy,” he said softly.

With the confirmation that it truly was him, Madame Pomfrey strode forward, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck and tug him down into a hug. He folded her into his arms in return, and for a moment, it was as though he’d come home.

“Goodness, how have you been?” she asked, pulling back just enough to plant her hands on either side of his face, turning his head this way and that in a fussing, motherly way.

“I’ve been well,” Remus sighed happily.

“Good, good,” she said, her voice thick with relief.

They stood there a moment, smiling at each other—Remus with his hands shoved into his pockets, and Pomfrey with her eyes glassy, as though one more word might make her cry.

Cassie’s smile widened as she watched them, touched by the tenderness of their reunion. Then Pomfrey’s gaze flicked to her.

“Oh—oh, I’m so sorry, dear,” she said with a sniffle. “What can I do for you?”

Before Cassie could answer, Remus chuckled and stepped up behind her, resting both hands gently on her shoulders.

“Poppy,” he began with quiet pride, “meet Cassie—my goddaughter.”

The way his voice swelled with affection, paired with the look on Pomfrey’s face, was enough to undo her. A couple of tears slipped down her cheeks before she swept Cassie into her arms.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Cassie,” she said warmly as she pulled back, both hands now cupping the girl’s shoulders.

“Lovely to meet you too,” Cassie replied with a soft smile.

Pomfrey dabbed at her eyes but brightened quickly. “Come, come—no need to stand about. Let’s go into my office.” She turned back the way she came.

Cassie hesitated only a moment before Remus gave her a gentle nudge forward. She looked up at him, caught his reassuring smile, and returned it. Then together, they followed Madame Pomfrey toward her office.

As they both settled into the chairs in Madame Pomfrey’s office, two steaming cups of tea floated gracefully to them.

“Sugar?” she asked.

“Two,” they both said at once.

With a knowing little smile, Pomfrey flicked her wand, dropping two cubes into each cup before passing them over. Taking her own seat, she studied Cassie with a furrowed brow. Cassie held her breath under the weight of her gaze.

“You look so very familiar,” Pomfrey murmured at last. “Though I know I’ve never seen you before—I remember every student who’s come through this hospital wing.” Her eyes lingered, Cassie noticed, on the wand pinned through her hair.

Cassie flicked a glance at Remus, who met her look steadily.

“There’s a good chance you knew my parents,” Cassie said carefully. “Elodie Evans and Nicholas Lark.”

Pomfrey’s eyes widened, her hand lifting to her mouth before a smile bloomed. “I should have known. Those eyes are your father’s… and the way you tie your hair like that—that’s Elodie, through and through.”

Cassie’s lips curved faintly, but before she could reply, Remus leaned forward, voice quiet but full of pride.

“That’s not the only way she’s like her parents,” he said.

Cassie turned to him, brow arched.

“This young lady,” Remus continued, “is the reason I haven’t completely fallen apart each month. She’s a healer—just like her mum and dad.”

Cassie flushed but forced herself to meet Pomfrey’s gaze. “Which is why I’m here, ma’am. I asked Professor McGonagall about healing courses, but she told me there weren’t any. She did say, though, that I should speak with you.”

Pomfrey’s face softened into a smile. “Yes, Minerva did mention you might be coming by. I just didn’t expect such wonderful surprises all at once.” She folded her hands. “So—what is it you’d like from me, dear?”

“I was wondering if I could work here… with you. Like training.” Cassie hesitated, glancing down at her teacup before continuing. “I know how much you did for Remus—sorry, Remus—and I’ve been looking after him for years now. I just want to get better at it.”

“You’re the first person since your mum to ask me that,” Pomfrey said softly. “Of course I’ll help you.”

Cassie’s face lit up, and Remus gave a small, contented sigh.

“And like you said, Mr. Lupin was a bit of a handful in his school days,” Pomfrey added wryly.

“Hey, not my fault,” Remus said, holding up his hands in mock surrender, making both women laugh.

“Thank you, Madame Pomfrey,” Cassie said earnestly.

“Of course, my dear.”

Cassie finished her tea and set the cup aside as Pomfrey asked, “When can I expect you?”

“I’ve got free periods Wednesday and Thursday afternoons. I could come then?”

“Perfect.” Pomfrey stood, prompting them both to rise as well. “I’ll see you then, Cassie. And thank you for introducing yourself.” Her gaze shifted fondly to Remus. “And you—don’t be a stranger. Come by again.”

“Thank you, Madame Pomfrey,” Cassie said brightly.

“I’ll come back,” Remus promised with a small smile.

Pomfrey ushered them kindly to the door. They left the hospital wing side by side, both still smiling as they went their separate ways—Remus back to his office, Cassie through the portrait hole into Gryffindor Tower.

And Cassie was happy.

Chapter Text

The late morning sun spilled through the cracks in Cassie’s closed curtains. She rolled over, tugged the fabric aside, and found Lyra’s bed empty. The curtains of the four-poster were thrown wide, blankets and sheets tangled as if she’d flung herself out in a rush.

Must’ve had a morning class, Cassie thought. Letting the curtain fall shut again, she turned over, pulled the blanket up to her chin, and smiled as her eyes drifted closed. She hadn’t quite fallen asleep when her alarm went off.

With a groan, she sat up. She still wanted to head out before classes started, just to be awake and moving. She changed into what were basically pajamas passable enough to leave the dorm in, grabbed her book and slipped it into a little tote along with her wand. Sliding on slipper-like shoes, she padded downstairs toward the common room.

Upon stepping foot in the common room she spotted him. Fred was sprawled across the crimson couch, lazily tossing a ball into the air and catching it. His head rested on a pillow, knees bent over the armrest. The giant barely fit.

Cassie froze, then pivoted back toward the stairs—

“Larkie!” Fred’s sing-song voice stopped her.

Cassie shut her eyes, then turned slowly. He was grinning, of course.
“Hello, Fred,” she said flatly.

“Slept in, did you?” Fred asked, sitting up.

“Free period,” Cassie said shortly, folding her arms.

“Lucky me,” he rubbed his hands together conspiratorially.

Cassie shut her eyes in anguish. “I don’t think I want to know why,” she whinged.

“Guess who else has free period with you.”

Cassie didn’t answer.

“This guy.” Fred jabbed his thumbs at himself. “And Lyra. And George, I guess—but I’m better.”

“Where are they?” Cassie asked with a slight groan.

“Great Hall. Bringing me breakfast.”

Cassie gave him a look. “Your brother is so nice to you—and for reasons unknown to me.” She relented, crossing the room and dropping into the armchair farthest from him to wait for Lyra.

“I gave him two sickles,” Fred admitted.

Cassie scoffed a laugh.

“Loook at that! I got her to laugh. Point: Fred.”

“Too bad no one was around to see.” Cassie pouted mockingly, swiveling sideways in her chair so she could drape her legs over the armrest the same way Fred had been sprawled earlier. Pulling her book from her bag, she flipped it open—though she wasn’t sure why she thought she could get any reading done with Fred sitting across from her.

Shockingly enough, he wasn’t saying anything. Just staring. Occasionally, she glanced up to see if he’d stopped, but there he was: chin propped on clasped hands, elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on her.

Cassie finally snapped her book shut with a sigh. “Can I help you?”

Fred just shrugged smugly, still silent.

Cassie narrowed her eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

Before he could break his silence, the portrait hole swung open. Lyra and George stepped through, each balancing a plate in their hands. The smell of toast and bacon instantly filled the common room.

“Breakfast delivery,” George announced, holding up Fred’s plate like it was a prize.

“Finally!” Fred shot up from the couch, grin wide as ever. “See, Larkie?

Lyra snorted and passed Cassie her plate without being asked. “Don’t let him fool you. He practically begged.”

“Bribed, actually,” George corrected with a smirk.

“You brought me breakfast?” Cassie asked, looking down at the plate in her hands.

“’Course I did!” Lyra said brightly.

“Thanks.” Cassie leaned her head against Lyra’s side, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Fred plopped back onto the couch, already shoveling food into his mouth. He pointed his fork at his brother. “I owe you.”

“You’ve owed me for years now,” George said without missing a beat.

“For what?!” Fred demanded, scandalized, half his words muffled around a mouthful of eggs.

“I don’t know. Something, probably.” George grinned and elbowed Lyra gently, earning a laugh.

“Now tell me, whose clever idea was it to give us four the same free period?” Lyra asked. “Being friends with you two already is chaos.” She gestured toward the twins.

“Wait till the pranks start,” Fred said mischievously. “That’s when the chaos really begins.”

Cassie raised a brow as she chewed. “So this is my life now? Surrounded by mayhem before I’ve even had breakfast?”

Fred leaned back with a smug grin. “That’s what friends are for.”

Cassie blinked. “Whoa, hold on—I never said we were friends.”

The mock-offended look on Fred’s face made George snort, and Lyra nearly choked on toast she took from Cassie. Within seconds, all three were laughing, while Cassie tried to bite back her own smile.

“Y’know,” Fred started, standing slightly and leaning over to pluck a piece of bacon from Cassie’s plate, “I have a prank idea.”

Cassie gaped, staring at the empty spot on her plate, then up at him. “You’re a prick,” she said flatly.

Fred waved the bacon like a pointer. “We’ve got a few dung bombs and doxy bombs up in the dorm. We could put ’em in Filch’s office.” He took a bite. “Rig one so it falls right on his head when he enters.”

“That sounds awful,” Cassie said, frowning. “Plus, Lyra and I have Defense Against the Dark Arts in forty-five minutes.” She looked at Lyra excitedly.

“Can we get there early so I can speak to him?” Lyra asked. “I’m excited for our first class with ‘Uncle Remus.’”

Cassie shut her eyes at the word uncle. She knew Lyra meant no harm—but she also knew the twins were about to have a field day.

“Uncle?” Fred’s voice rang out.

Lyra’s eyes went wide; her mouth shifted from shock to an apologetic little ‘oops.’

George glanced at his twin, then back at Cassie.

Fred put a finger to his chin, tapping it thoughtfully. “Defense Against the Dark Arts… uncle…” He trailed off, like he was piecing it together in his head.

Reading his thoughts, Cassie said, “Yes, Fred. Uncle.”

“You’re related to the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?” George asked, curiosity bright in his eyes.

Cassie shook her head. “Sure,” she said lightly, not wanting to explain everything.

“Larkie, you’re like the ultimate teacher’s pet,” Fred laughed, already scheming.

“Yep,” Cassie said dryly, nodding as she slid out of the chair and started for the stairs.

“Put in a good word for me with Uncle Remus,” Fred called after her.

Behind her, she heard Lyra mutter a soft goodbye and the light padding of her footsteps on the carpet. By the time Cassie was halfway up the stairs, Lyra had caught up.

“Cass! I’m so sorry—I wasn’t even thinking,” she said quickly.

“It’s alright,” Cassie said. “It’s not like it was necessarily a secret.”

“I know, but now you’ll never hear the end of it,” Lyra said apologetically.

“Really, Lyra, it’s okay.” Cassie put a hand on her shoulder. “They were going to find out sooner or later. Just one of my many family secrets.” She teased, though she wasn’t lying. “Plus, I’ll just tell Remus to go hard on him.”

Lyra’s worry softened into a small smile, and Cassie returned it. The two of them continued up the stairs together, slipping back into the quiet of their dorm.

Upon returning, Cassie went straight for the wardrobe, collecting her uniform and starting to change.

“Cassie,” Lyra said from behind her.

“Hm?” Cassie hummed, wobbling as she tugged on a sock and nearly fell over.

“I think we were destined to be friends,” Lyra said suddenly.

“Really?” Cassie laughed, glancing over her shoulder.

She found Lyra staring into the open wardrobe. “Our initials are similar, are they not?” Lyra pointed. “CLL and LLT.”

“Huh. I guess they are.” Cassie tilted her head to the side, considering. “Both Lyra and Cassiopeia are constellations, too. So that’s another.”

“Pause.” Lyra turned to gape at her. “I think you forgot to mention that your name was Cassiopeia.”

Cassie rolled her eyes with a smile and shook her head. “Doesn’t make it better that my middle name is Lune.”

“So you’re queen of the moon,” Lyra said slowly.

“If you’re being literal, yeah.” Cassie brushed hair from her face. “Blame my uncle for the middle name. There was always some variation of Cassie Lu or Lunie Lu.” Her chest tightened with the memory of Sirius calling her little Lunie Lu around the house.

Cassie nodded. “Yeah. Like Lune—but I guess im a Lupin by association.”

Lyra’s lips twitched. “My family used to call me Lyra Lou.” Cassie thought she caught the faintest shadow of a scowl. “Louise—my grandmother’s name.”

Cassie laughed. “See? We really were destined to be friends.”

“Next thing you’ll tell me, you had a dog named after the bloody Queen of England,” Lyra said dryly.

Cassie’s eyes widened before she burst into laughter.

“You’re an arse,” Lyra said, shoving her playfully.

“So, you ready for class, Lyra Lou?” Cassie teased.

“Ready, Lunie Lark,” Lyra shot back without missing a beat.

Grinning, the girls collected their things and left the dorm. Cassie led the way, already knowing the route. As they walked, her mind drifted. Lune—that had been Sirius’ idea. Cassie still wasn’t sure if he’d meant it as a joke—tying her constellation name to the moon the way Lyra had—or if it was… a Moony thing.

It was obvious they’d been close, Sirius and Remus, closer than anyone had ever explained to her. But Remus never spoke of it, and with Sirius’ escape still fresh, Cassie couldn’t bring herself to ask.

So she kept her questions folded away, hidden, like a secret note at the bottom of her trunk.

“Found it!” Lyra said, pointing to the door and pulling Cassie from her thoughts.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Let’s go in,” Cassie said.

Lyra grinned and pushed the door open.

Remus stood at the front of the room, waiting for students, his eyes lighting up when he saw them. “Welcome—” he began, then froze, noticing Lyra. “Oh, it’s just you,” he added when his eyes landed on Cassie.

“Ha ha,” Cassie deadpanned. “Remus, this is Lyra—my dorm mate and friend.” She gestured toward her.

“Hi, Professor,” Lyra said, “or should I say… ‘Uncle Remus’?”

Remus raised an eyebrow.

“It’s become a thing,” Cassie explained with a shrug.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you. Glad to see Cassie has a friend,” Remus said warmly.

“Don’t be like that,” Cassie said, smirking. “I just talk about ‘Uncle Remus’ so much that she wanted to meet you before meeting Professor You.”

“Ah, okay,” Remus said with a slight smile.

“Which reminds me,” Cassie continued, “Lyra accidentally blabbed that you’re my uncle—”

“I said I was sorry,” Lyra interjected.

“—and I got called the ultimate teacher’s pet. So basically, what I’m saying is… fail Fred Weasley,” Cassie finished with a dramatic flourish.

“Fail Fred Weasley?” Remus chuckled. “I’m sure Molly would be thrilled,” he said dryly.

“Hey, I’m going to go get us a seat,” Lyra whispered, already slipping Cassie’s bag off her shoulder. “Lovely to meet you, Professor.”

Remus nodded, and Cassie muttered a quick thanks before rounding back to her rant. “I mean, he’s a complete prick. Nearly took my head off on the train with a firework, and now he finds every excuse to annoy me. And the worst part is, I think he actually thinks we’re friends.”

“Or he’s trying to win your love,” Remus said lightly.

“Love?” Cassie spat, scandalized.

“Alright, maybe not love,” Remus amended with a hint of a smile. “But your friendship—he’s trying to prove himself.”

Cassie scoffed, crossing her arms. “He’s got an ego the size of the Black Lake. That boy doesn’t have to prove himself to anyone.”

As Cassie ranted, more students trickled in. A few passed by without a second glance. Others shot her confused looks—half because of her tirade, half because they were trying to puzzle out who she was and why she was already tormenting the poor new professor.

Remus was only half-listening, nodding greetings to students as they entered. Cassie wasn’t being especially loud, but the way she stood there, gesturing and scowling, made it look like she was scolding him. By the time he realized the class was fully seated, he finally cut her off.

“Alright, Cassie,” Remus said quietly, leaning closer. “your friend looks like she wants to crawl into a hole and die. Plus, I do need to start class.”

Cassie glanced back at Lyra, who was staring at her with a flat look, though her eye twitched with barely-contained amusement.

“Oh.” Cassie deflated, nodding at Remus before shuffling over to Lyra and dropping into the seat beside her. “Sorry,” she whispered.

Lyra just shook her head with a quiet laugh.

Remus followed, making his way to the front of the class. He moved without issue, his cane abandoned at the back of the room. Technically, he didn’t need it right now—but he liked having it close, even if only for the comfort it brought.

Remus cleared his throat, wringing his hands slightly. “Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts. I’m Professor Lupin, and I’ll be stepping in as your teacher for this year. Today, we’ll begin with gnomes—very basic, I know, but that’s where we’re starting.”

Cassie couldn’t help but smile. He might not realize it, but Remus Lupin was completely in his element up there.

“We’ll start on spells next class,” he finished before dismissing class. Students filed out, chatting as they went. George appeared in the doorway, and—as expected—Lyra immediately crossed over to him, launching into conversation while she waited for Cassie.

Before following, Cassie slipped up to Remus at the front of the class. “That was brilliant, Moony!” she whispered, pride unmistakable in her tone. “Truly, that was a great first class.”

“Really?” Remus said with a doubtful smile. “I felt like I was barely holding it together.”

“Oh, come on, you’re the best teacher I know.”

“I’m the only teacher you know,” Remus teased.

“Not true!” Cassie retorted, ticking them off on her fingers. “You, Professor Babbling, Professor Sprout, Professor Binns… Madame Pomfrey counts, and after lunch I’ve got Potions. That’s six.”

Remus sucked in a sharp breath. “Good old Snivelly, then.”

Cassie groaned, smacking a hand to her forehead. “Oh, bollocks, I completely forgot he taught that class. Is he going to have some personal vendetta against me just because I’m your goddaughter?”

“Maybe,” Remus admitted with a shrug. “Or maybe the bloke’s changed.”

“Doubt it. From what Harry’s said, Snape hates him.”

“Oh—you’re friends with Harry?” Remus asked, his expression softening.

“I’d say so.” Cassie shrugged. “At least I dont think he dislikes me.”

“Good. Very good.” Remus nodded, thoughtful.

Cassie hesitated, lowering her voice. “Can you… talk to him soon? About everything? He has a right to know, and he’s—he’s family.”

“I will. I promise.” Remus’s voice was gentle but firm. “You’re right, he does deserve to know. But… the time isn’t right just yet.”

Cassie sighed but nodded. “Alright. I’m off to lunch. See you later, Moons.” She gave him a little wave.

“Bye, Cassie.”

She hurried to catch up with Lyra and George.

“Bye, Remus!” Lyra called over her shoulder.

“Lovely to meet you, Lyra,” Remus replied warmly.

“So,” George said as they headed toward the stairs, smirking, “how was class with Uncle Remus?”

“Shut up,” Cassie scoffed, though she couldn’t keep the smile from her face as she shoved him with her shoulder.

On their way down, Fred eventually found them, falling into step with Cassie.

“Found us, mate,” George said, reaching around Cassie to punch his brother in the shoulder.

“Yeah, and I’m offended nobody picked me up from class,” Fred said, giving Cassie a pointed look.

“What, are you looking at me? You expect me to walk you from class to class? Now I know you’re mad,” Cassie retorted.

“George picked up our little Rosie here,” Fred said smugly.

“Rosie?” Cassie asked, confused.

“It’s a stupid nickname they came up with,” Lyra said, rolling her eyes. “Because my last name is Thorne.”

“Because roses have thorns,” Fred added helpfully.

“Right,” Cassie said, raising an eyebrow.

“Which isn’t true for Lyra,” George said, and Lyra tried to turn away to hide a blush.

Cassie leaned closer to Fred, whispering, “Hope you have my money ready, Firecrotch.”

Fred froze, his mouth falling open. He looked like she’d just slapped him with a jelly slug, then shook his head and let out an incredulous laugh as they continued walking.

As the four of them made their way into the Great Hall and neared the Gryffindor table, they spotted Ron, Hermione, and Harry scowling across at the Slytherin table. For good reason.

A gaggle of Slytherins had gathered around, with the blonde boy at the center. A girl with a blunt, short black bob was practically fussing over Draco. “Does it hurt terribly, Draco?” she asked, overly sweet.

Draco’s hand was wrapped in a white bandage extending up his forearm, with a sling that did little to support it.

“It comes and goes,” Draco said, inspecting his wrist. “Still, I consider myself lucky. According to Madam Pomfrey, another minute or two and I—uh—could’ve lost my arm. I couldn’t possibly do any homework for weeks.”

Cassie’s brows furrowed as she took in the scene while following her friends to the table.

“Listen to the idiot,” Ron muttered as they sat with the trio. “He’s really laying it on thick, isn’t he?”

“What happened?” Cassie asked, slipping in next to Lyra, across from Harry.

“A Hippogriff threw him to the ground and gave him a scratch,” Lyra explained in a mocking tone.

“That’s Draco Malfoy for ya,” George said, resting his chin on his hands.

“Well, at least Hagrid didn’t get fired,” Harry noted.

“Yeah, but I heard Draco’s father is furious,” Hermione added. “We haven’t heard the end of this.”

It was then that a boy came running into the Great Hall, paper in hand, yelling, “He’s been sighted! He’s been sighted!” His Irish accent cut through the chatter.

“Who?” Neville asked.

The Irish boy slammed the paper onto the table. “Sirius Black!” he said.

Cassie felt a stone drop into her stomach. Around her, everyone gasped, leaning in or standing to get a better view.

“Dufftown?” Hermione said, eyes widening. “That’s not far from here.”

“Y-you don’t think he’d come to Hogwarts, do you?” Neville stammered, fear edging his voice.

“With Dementors at every entrance?” a boy muttered.

“Dementors,” the Irish boy scoffed. “He’s already slipped past them once, hasn’t he? Who’s to say he won’t do it again?”

He had a point.

“That’s right,” another boy said, voice low and ominous. “Black could be anywhere. It’s like trying to catch smoke… like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands.”

Cassie looked down at the page. A moving picture showed one of the kindest men she had ever known, screaming like a deranged man. His dark, once-well-kept curls fell into his eyes as others held him back and pushed him aggressively against the wall.

It was almost sickening. It felt horrible, the dissonance between the man she knew and the fear everyone else felt. She couldn’t imagine how someone who was so good could be so feared and hated.

Once lunch formally began, Cassie barely noticed. She moved on autopilot, her fork scraping against her plate without thought, her mind locked in a loop she couldn’t escape. That picture of Sirius, mouth open in a scream , replayed again and again. Her chest felt tight. It was as if everything she thought she knew had cracked in two, leaving jagged pieces she didn’t know how to fit together.

Her gaze had gone unfocused, zeroing in on the back of some Hufflepuff’s head without her realizing. The conversation around her dimmed to a buzz. She didnt even realize all her friends staring at her.

“Cassie?” George leaned in, brow furrowed.

“Is she alright?” Hermione asked cautiously.

“Larkie,” Fred sang, drawing out the syllables like he was calling a dog.

“Did we break her somehow?” Ron added.

“Hello? Earth to Cass. Ground control to Cassie Lark?” Lyra waved her hand in front of her face. The motion snapped her back, though her eyes were still heavy, still fixed somewhere far away.

“That’s a David Bowie song,” Cassie said flatly, her voice oddly detached. “Space Oddity.”

Fred snorted. “When did Lark turn into a robot?”

She blinked, finally shifting to look at him. Her head gave a small shake, not sharp but deliberate, a mix of annoyance and disappointment tugging at her expression. Lips pressed into a thin line, she didn’t bother answering.

Fred’s grin faltered, just slightly.

Cassie cleared her throat. “I’m actually not that hungry. I’ll just head to class now—see you all at dinner.” And with that, she pushed back her bench and slipped out of the hall.

On her way down to the dungeons, her stomach twisted. Potions was something she’d always been good at—years of practice brewing with Remus had made sure of that—but the stories she’d heard about its miserable master soured her mood. She wasn’t sure if Snape knew of her personally, but he certainly knew of her parents, and their ties to the Marauders.

The thought dredged up a memory: a photograph tucked away in her room at home. Eight teenagers sprawled across the Gryffindor common room, frozen in the warmth of firelight. Sirius, caught mid-laugh, head thrown back, dark hair flying. Remus at his side, scowling, though his smile betrayed him. Her mother leaning against her father’s shoulder, looking up at him with a love-struck grin—and he, of course, gazing back just the same. James and Lily were tangled together on the couch, Lily’s head in James’s lap, her legs dangling over the armrest. On the carpet below, a blonde girl leaned against another, whose dark curls framed her striking features: Marlene McKinnon and Mary MacDonald, honorary Marauders alongside Lily and Cassie’s parents.

Peter was missing, presumably behind the camera.

The firelight bathed them all in gold, caught in their own little worlds, laughter and love forever frozen in the photograph.

Now… six of them, including Peter, were dead. Mary had obliviated herself, unable to carry the memories. Sirius was a fugitive. And Remus—Remus was right back where he’d started.

Now Cassie feared failure—not because of the subject, but because this man surely had something against her predecessors.

The air grew colder as she descended deeper into the dungeons. Shadows stretched along the stone walls, and her footsteps echoed, mingling with the few other students headed in the same direction, all with the same thought: get to class early.

When she entered the Potions classroom, it was nearly empty. A handful of students were already scattered about, pulling books and quills from their bags, their voices low, filling the space with an uneasy hush.

Cassie tugged her cloak tighter around her shoulders, the chill of the dungeons seeping deeper as she sat. From her bag, she pulled out her supplies and opened Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger. She also carried Advanced Potion-Making by Libatius Borage—Remus’s old copy, its margins scrawled with notes. Most of her supplies had been handed down from him, and she never minded; his textbooks were always alive with scribbles—class notes, sarcastic commentary from James and Sirius, and the occasional vulgar doodle that made her bite back a smile whenever she found one.

The scribbles had brought some small measure of resolve, but it all flitted away when a shadow fell across her and the table.

“This seat taken?”

Cassie could hear the smile in his voice.

Fred.

She pressed her hands to her face, rubbing her eyes with her fingers. “Yeah, whatever—it’s free,” she muttered, not in the mood to argue. Not really in the mood for anything at all.

She knew he felt victorious; she could see it in the way he straightened, pulled the chair out, and plopped down. He leaned a little closer than necessary—not offensive, but certainly too close.

Cassie organized her supplies, forcing her focus elsewhere while they waited for Snape to arrive. Every few seconds, she caught the sound of quiet snickering. Glancing over without turning fully, she noticed Fred scanning the notes in her book, chuckling at the scribbles. At least he wasn’t actively bothering her.

There was light chatter in the room, students murmuring about the potions they hoped to attempt. Cassie found herself quietly wishing she’d discover new ways to help Remus—and maybe others—in the future.

Then the door swung open. Professor Snape entered, his black cloak billowing dramatically behind him. The room went instantly silent, the kind of silence where even the faintest sound seemed amplified, like a pin dropping could echo through the stone walls.

Snape glided to the front of the classroom, his cloak swishing silently behind him. As he reached the center, his eyes locked onto Cassie’s. The look was sharp, deliberate and icy—and Cassie felt a jolt of unease. There was no mistaking it: he was irritated, and she was the focus.

Shit.

Finally, his cold, measured voice cut through the silence. “Today, we will be making the Draught of Peace. Follow the directions in your textbooks exactly. Open to page fifty-four.”

Cassie flipped her book open, every instinct on alert.

Snape’s gaze swept the room once more, lingering a fraction longer on her before continuing: “You will be partnered with the student sitting next to you. That partnership will remain for the duration of the year.”

Cassie’s eyes flicked sideways at Fred. No way was she passing this class with him as a partner.

“Begin,” Snape drawled, and the ingredients appeared neatly on their tables.

Fred had already flipped the book open to the assigned page.

“Powdered moonstone, syrup of hellebore, stewed mandrake, powdered unicorn horn, powdered porcupine quills… and water,” Cassie muttered, reading carefully.

Fred reached for the mandrake, but Cassie slapped his hand away.

“Hey! What was that for?” he protested.

“I understand we have to work together,” Cassie said, sliding him a mortar and pestle, “but you are not ruining this for me. You will grind the moonstone, unicorn horn, and porcupine quills into a powder.”

“So… you get to do all the fun stuff?” Fred asked, leaning back slightly and crossing his arms.

“I’m boiling and mashing a glorified potato and juicing a plant,” Cassie said flatly, reaching for the mandrake.

“Wouldn’t that be… milking?” Fred grinned.

As he worked the quills down later, he paused, eyebrow raised. “What do you think would happen if I snorted this?”

Cassie didn’t even look up from the mandrake she was cubing. “Probably nothing noticeable—your brain’s already mush.”

Fred chuckled, unbothered, and went back to grinding.

Cassie replaced the water in the cauldron and dropped the mandrake cubes into a mesh bag, tying it tight before slipping it into a second one to prevent fallout. Using a flat metal press, she crushed the softened mandrake into pulp and lowered the heavy teabag into the simmering water to steep.

When she pulled on gloves to squeeze syrup from the hellebore, her nose scrunched in concentration—the stuff was dangerously poisonous.

Fred caught the fleeting scrunch, unexpected and oddly endearing.

All the concentrates of the ingredients were laid out when Cassie turned to Fred.
“I will allow you to add ingredients—if you do exactly as I say,” she warned.

Fred’s smile was instant.

“Do not make me regret this.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Lark,” he said, far too smug.

Cassie scanned the book. “Remove the mandrake and add the powdered moonstone. It should turn green. Green.”

“Alright, Larkie, I’m not color-blind,” Fred replied, fishing out the teabag.

Cassie raised her hands in mock surrender and turned back to the cauldron.

Together they worked through the instructions. The potion shifted in a dizzying display—green to blue, purple, pink, turquoise, back to purple, orange, yellow, then looping again. Finally, after one last round of shifting hues—red, purple, pink, orange—it settled into a clean, silvery white.

There were close to ten minutes of class left when Snape began his rounds, either doling out points or dragging them away depending on how the potions turned out. When he reached their table he gave a curt nod.
“Five points to Gryffindor.”

Cassie bit back a smile.

“Miss Lark — see me after class,” he added, the k at the end of her name clicking like a snapped pebble as he moved on.

Cassie’s eyes widened. In her peripheral vision she caught Fred, his mouth agape in shock, though a grin was threatening to break loose. Under his breath he murmured, “Ooooh, Larkie’s in trouble.” Resulting in a glare from Cassie.

Cassie’s eyes widened. In her peripheral vision she caught Fred, his mouth agape in shock, though a grin was threatening to break loose. Under his breath he murmured, “Ooooh, Larkie’s in trouble.”

When class finally ended, Cassie gathered her things and walked over to him.

“Professor,” she said.

“Miss Lark.” That hard k again. He regarded her with that familiar sneer. “At the request of Professor Dumbledore, I am required”—he nearly spat the word—“to assist Mr. Lupin with his… condition.” The pause was loaded, dripping with disgust. “I will brew the Wolfsbane Potion. You will collect it and see that it reaches him on time.”

Cassie nodded stiffly.

“Let me be perfectly clear,” Snape continued, his voice low and deliberate. “If you fail in this simple task, it is he who will suffer for it. Not me. Not you.” His lip curled. “Him.”

“Yes, sir,” Cassie said, her mind already darting ahead to the library for research.

“You are dismissed.” With a swirl of his cloak, he swept away toward his office.

The breath Cassie had been holding left her in a quiet shiver.

Cassie left the dungeons, her bag thumping against her hip as she started the long trek back up. By the time she finally reached the fourth floor, her legs were screaming in protest. She sank down onto the nearest step, breathless.

The stairs at Hogwarts were brutal.

Finally, she pushed herself back to her feet with a groan and trudged toward the library. No matter how much the castle stairs tried to kill her, she wasn’t about to let them win. Sliding inside the quiet, cavernous room, Cassie wasted no time heading straight for the shelves, eyes already scanning for anything that would possibly mention Wolfsbane.

Cassie scanned the shelves up and down, not entirely sure what she was even looking for. Her eyes darted over titles in frustration, and in her distraction she walked straight into someone’s back. The impact jolted her, and she stumbled before blinking up at a boy with fluffy blond hair and a kind, open face. He wasn’t ugly by any stretch — in fact, there was something striking in the way his features balanced between sharp and soft, his square jaw softened by the warmth in his expression. The yellow trim of his robes marked him as a Hufflepuff, and a gleaming prefect’s badge caught the light on his chest.

“Oh my— I am so sorry, I was completely not paying attention,” Cassie blurted.

“No harm done,” the boy said easily, extending a hand. “Ernie.”

“Cassie,” she replied, shaking his hand. “Prefect?” she asked, then instantly felt stupid — the badge gleamed right there on his chest.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I help Madam Pince with shelving books every Friday.”

“Oh, cool.” Cassie brightened. “I’m a prefect too! Though… my badge is probably buried somewhere in this bag.” She gave a sheepish laugh.

Ernie chuckled. “Is that so?”

“Yeah. I just patrol at night, mostly.”

“That’s the best part,” Ernie said. “Wandering an empty castle, exploring with no one around.”

Cassie grinned. “It is pretty great. Actually—wait. You can help me. Possibly.”

“Oh, can I?” Ernie raised a brow.

“Can you?” Cassie asked sweetly.

“That depends on what it is,” he said, amused.

“I’m looking for a book, but I’m not sure which,” she said. “I plan on being a healer one day, so I want all the information on potions I can get.” It was all true.

“Smashing,” Ernie said. He was quiet for a moment, thinking, then snapped his fingers. “We just got a new book by Damocles Belby with a ton of advanced potions.”

“Brilliant!” Cassie said.

“One problem,” Ernie added. “That book would be in the Restricted Section.”

“Shit… I need a note for that, don’t I? Should I go grab one?” Cassie asked.

Ernie wagged a finger at her, shaking his head. “Lucky for you, I can go in and grab it for you.”

“Oh, would you?” Cassie said, hopeful.

“'Course,” Ernie said, already walking away, leaving Cassie alone for only a few minutes.

When he returned, he carried a dark chartreuse book titled Advanced Potion Theory: Masterworks of Damocles Belby.

“This contains some of the hardest potions—Dragon Hide Elixir, Shape-Shifter’s Salve, and the newest one, Wolfsbane,” he said. “It just came in yesterday.”

It was exactly what Cassie needed. “How do you already know all that?” she asked.

“Oh, I read the back on my way over here,” Ernie said matter-of-factly.

Cassie laughed, and Ernie laughed with her.

“Well, thank you for your help,” she said. “I’ll come find you so you can join me on a fun little stroll around the castle during my next patrol.”

“Sounds like fun,” Ernie said.

“See you around,” Cassie waved as she walked away.

“Bye, Cassie,” Ernie called back.

“Nice kid,” Cassie murmured, heading toward the stairs.

She made her way up to Gryffindor Tower and slipped into the comfort of her dorm. Her bag hit the floor with a soft thud as she flopped onto her bed, tugging the curtains closed.

It wasn’t until Lyra entered the dorm that Cassie realized she’d dozed off. She stirred when the door clicked shut, peeking her head out from behind the curtains and squinting.

“Oh, hello, tiny harp,” Cassie said.

“Tiny harp? Boy, is that a new one. You all are on a roll with the nicknames—Lyra Lou, Rosie, tiny harp,” Lyra listed.

Cassie smiled, shaking her head.

“How’re you doing? How have you been?” Lyra asked.

Cassie narrowed her eyes at her friend. “Good?”

“Just making sure,” Lyra said, crossing her arms. “You left lunch so abruptly.”

“Oh yeah…” Cassie murmured, remembering. “Just some family stuff.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Lyra asked gently.

Cassie shrugged. “Sure, whatever.” She pushed the curtains open and patted the spot beside her as she scooted up toward the headboard. Lyra climbed onto the bed and sat facing her.

“Alright. Whenever you’re ready, I’m listening,” Lyra said.

“Well, my parents died when I was three,” Cassie said coolly. “Snatchers. Never saw them again. Remus took me in without hesitation. And that's kind of why I'm here, Remus was offered a job and I came with.”

“Oh, Cassie… I’m so sorry,” Lyra whispered.

“I’m okay, Lyr, really,” Cassie replied, her tone light, almost dismissive.

Lyra nodded slowly. “But… is that why you left lunch?”

Cassie rubbed the back of her neck, chuckling awkwardly. “Funny story, actually…”

Lyra leaned in, eyes searching her friend’s face.

“Remember when that little Irish boy ran in with the Daily Prophet?” Cassie asked.

“Seamus?” Lyra guessed.

“Is that his name?—anyway, remember that picture of Sirius Black?”

“Yeah. He looked proper mad,” Lyra said, making Cassie wince.

“And if I told you I used to call him Uncle Sirius?” Cassie asked.

Lyra’s eyes went wide with disbelief. “Rewind—what?”

Cassie sighed and launched into the story. She explained the bond between her parents and the Marauders, how tight-knit they all were, and told Lyra about the nights spent in the little London townhouse with just Sirius, Remus, and her. She even added the bit about her mum and Lily—Elodie had been adopted into the Evans family, which made Cassie Lily’s niece.

“That makes you—”

“Harry’s cousin,” Cassie finished for her.

Lyra gaped. “Does he know?”

“No, he doesn’t. Remus wants to tell him first, so please don’t say anything,” Cassie said, her tone edging into seriousness for the first time.

Lyra held up her pinky. “This better not be some sick joke.”

Cassie let out a laugh and hooked her pinky with Lyra’s, locking the promise. “All true.”

Lyra sighed. “Well, that explains why you were on a different planet today.”

“Just looking for Bowie,” Cassie teased, earning a snort of laughter.

“You’re ridiculous,” Lyra said, shaking her head but smiling all the same.

“Well, your turn now,” Cassie teased.

“You actually want to hear it? It’s… a lot.”

“Oh no, I was only joking—unless you want to.”

Lyra shrugged. “Trauma for trauma. In short? My parents are awful.”

Cassie tilted her head. “How so?”

“I’d been getting Hogwarts letters for five years before finally making it here. I’m Muggle-born, and when my family found out I had magic, they sent me to a mental hospital. Thought it would ‘fix’ me and I’d come out brand new.”

Cassie’s smile fell.

“Clearly that didn’t happen,” Lyra went on, voice light but brittle. “On September first, McGonagall finally had enough. She came to get me herself.”

Cassie could tell Lyra was trying to downplay it, but the hurt was there.

“I’m not allowed back home,” Lyra added quietly.

“I’m sorry, Lyra. That’s… awful.”

“Yeah. But I’m here now, and that’s what matters.”

Cassie hesitated. “But what about the holidays?”

Lyra sighed. “I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.”

“Alright. Well—you’re always welcome at the cottage.”

“Thanks.” Lyra smiled faintly. They sat in silence for a moment before she suddenly laughed. “Look at us. You’ve got a crazy uncle who wants to kill your cousin, and my parents are the worst.”

“Lucky us,” Cassie said, smiling as Lyra rested her head on her shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re here, Cass,” Lyra murmured. “Thanks for being my friend.”

Cassie bumped her head lightly against Lyra’s. “Oh, you sap. Shut up before I cry.”

Chapter Text

Immediately after lunch, Cassie practically ran to the hospital wing for her first lesson with Madame Pomfrey. When she pushed open the doors into the medical bay, the matron was already waiting, hands clasped behind her back, wearing a warm smile.

“Right on time, Cassie,” she said.

“I am so ready, Madame Pomfrey,” Cassie beamed.

“As am I.” Pomfrey’s smile widened. “Let’s start with a brief tour.”

The hospital wing stretched before Cassie, a long hall lined with staggered beds on both sides, each with a curtain for privacy. The familiar scent of antiseptic and lavender hung in the air, just as it had that first day she’d come in with Remus.

With a beckoning hand, Pomfrey led her to the far right corner where the supplies were kept. Closest to the entrance stood a large credenza desk, neat stacks of linens folded beside an open storage box filled with small vials.

“Just a few new tinctures I’ve made,” Pomfrey explained. “If you brew any, they can be stored here.”

She turned, gesturing to the wall perpendicular to them. Built into it were two massive hutches. From the floor up to about a foot high, nine drawers lined the base — three wide ones in the center, flanked by three shorter drawers on either side. Above those, shelves brimmed with thick volumes, cubbies crammed with ingredients, and tall cylindrical jars that gleamed in the light. Even higher were rows of labeled drawers Cassie couldn’t even read from where she stood.

“For those,” Pomfrey said knowingly, “just use the Summoning Charm. They’ll fly right to you.”

“Is it tall enough?” Cassie joked, craning her neck.

“Not nearly.” Pomfrey chuckled, her sarcasm warm. “Now, I’d like to see what you know.” She gestured toward her office.

“Thank you,” Cassie murmured as she followed her inside.

Behind her desk, Pomfrey slid a sheet of parchment across and set a quill beside it. One side listed potions, spells, and salves; the opposite side left blank lines for answers.

“I’m sure you can guess what this is,” she said, smiling. “Give me a basic definition of each so I can get a sense of your healing knowledge.”

Cassie nodded and bent over the parchment. The small office was quiet but for the steady scratch of her quill and the occasional clink of Pomfrey’s teacup. When she finished, only two spells were left blank. She slid it back across the desk.

Pomfrey scanned the sheet, her expression unreadable until she lowered it again with a smile.

“Well, Cassie,” she said. “Normally, I’d say I’m impressed—and I am—but I can’t say I’m surprised. Not after hearing how you’ve cared for Remus.”

“He’s a handful,” Cassie muttered with a wry smile.

Madame Pomfrey chuckled. “As he grew older, he talked back more. But when he was young… it was dreadful. Always looked so tired.” Her voice softened with memory, eyes momentarily distant.

Cassie had known from the start that Pomfrey was empathetic—she’d seen it in the way the matron cried when she first saw Remus again—and this only confirmed it.

“But always lovely,” she finished, voice warm with fondness.

“Madame Pomfrey…” Cassie hesitated, fingers worrying at the edge of her sleeve. “What was my mum like… with the healing?”

Pomfrey stilled, her expression softening as though a tide of memories had washed over her. She leaned back in her chair, a wistful smile tugging at her lips.
“Oh, Elodie…” she breathed, almost to herself. “She was the most apt student healer I ever had the privilege to teach. Natural, really—like the craft was stitched into her bones. Quick to learn, steady hands, and a heart that never wavered. She always thought of the person first and the ailment second.”

Her eyes softened further, as though she were seeing the past instead of the office around her.

"You know, she was here every month after the full moon, sitting with Remus, tending to him. She never missed classes for anyone, but for him she did—and no matter how hard he tried to push her away, she never left his side. Not only was she the most gifted student healer I’d ever seen, but also the kindest and most devoted young woman I ever had the privilege to know."

Cassie smiled faintly. "Remus doesn’t tell me much—I reckon it still hurts—but I do know he was very close with the Evans girls."

"It seemed as though your mother was his very best friend," Madame Pomfrey said gently.

"I’m sure she was," Cassie replied.

"How old were you when they passed if you dont mind me asking?" Madame pomfrey asked

"Three" Cassie said "though i remember nothing, not sure if i blocked it out or just plain have no recollection" she gave a halfhearted chuckle "and i was at godrics hollow on Halloween too"

"I'm sorry dear" Madame pomfrey said

Cassie shurgged "S'alright, dont remember much anyway" she said again "i do remember meeting my aunt and uncle thought" she smiled at the memory

"Lily and james" pomfrey said

Cassie laughed "Or as i called them, auntie lily and uncle Jamie" she smiled at the memory "that was the night i had met them for the first time"

"So then… Mr potter is you cousin" Madame pomfrey said

Cassie winced "Yes but he doesn't know yet. Remus is waiting for the right time, not entirely sure when that is but i hope its soon."

"Yes yes, im sure he would be happy to hear he has family here." Madame pomfrey said

"I hope so" Cassie said

It was quiet for a moment. Slightly awkward. Till Madame pomfrey spoke

"That should be all for today Cassie, it has been wonderful to continue to get to know you, i shall see you tomorrow as well yes?"

Cassie nodded

"Lovely! We will get into practical work tomorrow then" Madame pomfrey said

"Thank you Madame pomfrey!" Cassie said standing and heading for the door and opening it "oh and thank you for the story"

"You're welcome dear" Madame pomfrey said, and Cassie shut the door.

***
Cassie’s wrist was caught in Lyra’s grip as she was reluctantly dragged down to the Quidditch pitch. She’d barely had a moment to change before Lyra was already hauling her out the door.

“Look, Lyr, I know you just want to watch Weasley try out—but why me?” Cassie complained.

“Quit your griping. I brought you a book to read,” Lyra said cheerfully, holding up The Count of Monte Cristo, which Cassie had been working through. “I just didn’t want to sit out here alone.”

“There’s no one else you could have dragged?” Cassie muttered.

“Nope!” Lyra said, and Cassie could hear the grin in her voice.

Cassie rolled her eyes but let herself be tugged along—right up until they were wedged between Fred and George Weasley. She shut her eyes against the glare of the sun, only for it to be blocked by a looming shadow and a too-familiar voice.

“Hello, Larkie.”

Lyra and George immediately slipped into easy conversation, while Cassie dropped into a crouch with exaggerated, pitiful—if entirely fake—sobs, her wrist still trapped in Lyra’s hold, as though she feared Cassie might bolt.

Fred circled around and crouched in front of her. “Bit dramatic, aren’t we today, Larkie?”

Cassie lifted her foot and shoved him square in the knees. Fred toppled backwards with an “oof,” flat on his back. He might’ve been brilliant on a broom, but solid ground clearly failed him today. Cassie almost laughed—almost—but she knew better. He’d only take satisfaction in winning that.

“I’m flattered, Lark, really. You just can’t stay away from me,” Fred said, brushing himself off and leaning in far too close to Cassie’s face.

“Correction—you can’t seem to stay away from me for reasons beyond my comprehension,” Cassie shot back, jabbing a finger between his eyebrows to push him back.

“Semantics,” Fred shrugged, entirely unbothered.

Cassie huffed. “And just so we’re clear, I’m only here because Lyra dragged me to watch your brother fly, not to put up with you.”

Fred only smirked wider, clearly satisfied at having gotten a rise out of her.

Meanwhile, Lyra and George were already lost in their own world, leaving Cassie stuck with the far more irritating twin.

“Oi! Weasleys!” a sharp voice called from the direction of the changing tent. “Quit flirtin’ and get your arses on the pitch! Just ’cause you’ve been on the team before doesn’t mean you’ve got a guaranteed spot!”

Cassie turned her head and caught sight of him. His short, neatly kept brown hair barely shifted in the wind, and his sharp hazel eyes missed nothing. His mouth was set in that unmistakable half-grimace, half-grin of someone who thrived on competition, and his posture radiated urgency, every movement precise and purposeful. Even from a distance, it was clear he commanded attention—and respect—without needing to shout.

“O Captain, my Captain,” Fred muttered, pushing himself up on his knees to stand.

“Comin’, Wood!” George called, then snickered. “Remind me not to say that again,” he said to Lyra.

“Gross!”

Wood turned and entered the tent. “Get out, Lee,” Oliver said flatly. Shortly after, a boy with dark skin and dreadlocks stepped out, a smitten smile on his face as the twins greeted him in passing.

“All right, up,” Lyra said, hauling Cassie to her feet.

Cassie dusted off her jeans, and when she looked up, she was slightly surprised to see the boy.

“Hiya,” he said. “Lee Jordan.” He offered both hands to the girls and crossed them.

Both girls laughed, each shaking a hand.

“Cassie.”

“Lyra.”

“Friends of the twins?” Lee asked.

“No,” Cassie said.

“Yes,” Lyra interjected, glancing at Cassie. “Yes!” she added more forcefully.

“Fred infuriates me, while Lyra here, my dear sweet friend, is utterly infatuated with his twin,” Cassie explained.

“Cassie!” Lyra cried, face turning red.

“Ah, hopelessly in love too?” Lee teased.

“I’m not—just—Cassie!” she sputtered again.

“Walk with me, ladies,” Lee said, already turning toward the stands.

Cassie followed quickly, mostly because Lyra had started poking her furiously wherever she could reach. Her lips were pressed into a flat line, nose wrinkled, but there was no real malice in it. Cassie broke into a jog up the stairs, laughing, while Lyra chased after her.

“You’re a right prick, Cassiopeia Lune Lark!” Lyra called.

“And you’re all flower, no thorn, Lyra Louise Thorne!” Cassie shot back with a grin.

Lee dropped onto the bleachers with a relaxed grin, leaning his arms back against the row behind him, relaxing. Cassie slipped in right after, making sure to take the far side so that Lee sat neatly between her and Lyra—her buffer against any more pokes or swats.

“So you like Quidditch?” Lee asked, watching the team zoom about the pitch.

“You think I’m out here of my own volition?” Cassie shot back, one brow arched as she flicked her gaze toward Lyra. Lyra stuck her tongue out at her in response.

“Right—George,” Lee said, snapping and pointing at Lyra. “Those two have been my mates for—Merlin—years. And now that I think about it, he has been acting different.”

Lyra scoffed, crossing her arms and changing the subject. “Alright, Lee, tell me about the team. We saw you walk out of that tent—spill.”

Lee chuckled, holding his hands up in mock innocence. “Okay, okay. So, I’m sure you know Harry.”

Cassie nodded heavily.

“He’s the Seeker—smallest on the team, fastest on a broom. His whole job is to catch the Snitch and end the game.”

“And the twins?” Lyra asked, trying to keep her tone even but sounding far too giddy.

“Beaters,” Lee said. “Bats in hand, smashing Bludgers away from their teammates—and at the other team whenever they can manage.”

He grinned, pointing out three girls flying in a tight formation. “Those are the Chasers—Alicia Spinnet, Katie Bell, and Angelina Johnson. They pass the Quaffle around and score goals.”

“Uh oh, looks like Lee’s in love,” Cassie teased.

“I’ve been in love with Angie since first year,” Lee said, utterly serious. “She always turns me down, but one day—one day—I can feel it. She’ll return my love and we’ll live happily ever after.”

Both girls burst out laughing.

“I’m sure of it,” Lee said.

Lee pointed toward the boy with the whistle who was circling above, scanning the team with sharp, assessing eyes. “And that’s Oliver Wood. Keeper and Captain—his job’s to guard the hoops. Trust me, no one takes Quidditch more seriously than Wood.”

“Are you sure? Doesn’t seem like he cares much,” Cassie said sardonically, tilting her head as though unimpressed.

“Yeah, right,” Lee scoffed. “Quidditch is all he cares about. Bloke doesn’t even have time for a girlfriend—Quidditch is his one and only love.”

“Sounds terrible,” Lyra pouted, resting her chin in her hand with her elbow propped on her knee, playing it up dramatically.

“And you, Lee? Where are you on this team? You know so much about Quidditch,” Cassie asked.

“Me?” Lee grinned. “I’m not exactly on the team, per se. I’m the announcer at matches. And Cassie—hate to break it to you—but that’s just basic Quidditch knowledge.”

Cassie pressed her lips together and nodded slowly. “Riiiight.”

A sharp whistle cut through the air, pulling their attention back to the pitch. Oliver Wood hovered mid-air on his broom, shouting directions to his team with the intensity of a general leading troops into battle. The players zipped around him, snapping into formation, clearly used to his booming voice and no-nonsense style.

The girls settled into watching, though Lee couldn’t help tossing in the occasional bit of commentary—half announcer, half comedian. “And there we have the famous Gryffindor Chasers, demonstrating how not to pass when your Keeper is glaring holes through your skull.” His dry delivery sent both Cassie and Lyra into bursts of laughter, drawing a warning glance from Wood that only made them laugh harder.

Cassie hugged her knees to her chest, still smiling, while Lyra leaned back on her hands, clearly enjoying herself as much as if it were an actual match.

After what felt like a flurry of brooms and shouts, Wood blew his whistle one last time and called the team to a halt. “All right, that’s enough for today! Good effort, everyone, but remember—precision beats speed every time!” He swooped down from the air, landing with a controlled thud and brushing his robes off.

The team dismounted, murmuring among themselves, while Wood’s eyes swept the field one final time. “Team list’ll be on the bulletin by the end of the week!” he called, giving a sharp nod before striding toward the locker room.

Suddenly, Fred swooped down in front of the three of them, his broom skidding to a dramatic halt. “So, what’d you think, Lunie?” he asked with a wicked grin.

“Lunie?!” Cassie shot to her feet.

Fred leaned back on his broom, cackling with his eyes shut. When he finally glanced at Cassie’s thunderous expression, he doubled over, clutching the handle. “Stop—stop it! I’m going to fall off my broom!” he gasped between laughs.

“Better off that way!” Cassie shrieked. Then she spun sharply on her heel, finger stabbing in Lyra’s direction. “And you! You’re not allowed to speak anymore!”

Lyra only laughed harder, collapsing against Lee, who was no help at all since he’d already dissolved into snickers.

Fuming, Cassie turned back to Fred and jabbed a finger at him, stalking toward the edge of the bleachers like it was a proper standoff. Before she could get a word out, a shriek split the air—George had swooped in, scooping Lyra clean off her seat. Her initial scream of terror quickly melted into more helpless laughter as she dangled from his broom.

“Fancy a fly, Lu?” Fred asked, grinning between Lyra twisting in George’s grip and Cassie’s scowl.

“I’d rather die,” Cassie snapped. With a sharp turn, she stormed off the bleachers and back up toward the castle.

 

That same evening, in the library—

 

“I just don’t get it,” Cassie muttered, arms overloaded with books. “Why am I the chosen one so blessed to be constantly pestered by him?”

Ernie chuckled, plucking a book from her stack and sliding it neatly into its spot on the shelf. “That Weasley charm is certainly something,” he said, shaking his head.

“It’s beyond obnoxious,” Cassie groaned, dropping her pile onto the nearest table with a thud. “Sorry to dump all this on you, but Lyra’s practically in love with George, and I don’t really want to bother her with my—”

“Boy trouble?” Ernie cut in, eyebrows raised.

“It’s not boy trouble,” Cassie shot back immediately, bristling.

“Mm-hm,” Ernie said, sliding another book onto the shelf, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “Sounds a lot like boy trouble to me.”

Cassie narrowed her eyes at him. “It’s pest trouble. There’s a difference.”

Ernie laughed. “Sure, sure. A very handsome pest, though, isn’t he?”

“Excuse me while I go vomit.” Cassie made an exaggerated gagging noise.

Ernie held his hands up, feigning innocence. “Just saying—he is rather a ladies’ man.”

“So he’s the Casanova of Gryffindor Tower?” Cassie deadpanned.

“I was thinking more like slag,” Ernie said with a smirk, putting the final book on the shelf.

Cassie sputtered a laugh, and Ernie joined her—until Madame Pince appeared, seemingly out of thin air, and shushed them harshly.

“Sorry,” Cassie whispered, holding back another giggle.

“I’m sorry, Madame Pince,” Ernie whispered.

She disappeared around the corner, and the pair exchanged a final laugh.

“All right, I have patrol tonight. You coming with?” Cassie asked.

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

And with that, they left the library for the night.

***

 

Thursday morning, after Ancient Runes with Hermione, Cassie made her way to Remus’ classroom like she had the week prior. She shuffled in just as the last students were filing out, leaving Remus with nearly ten minutes before his next class would arrive.

“Morning, Cass,” he said, taking a sip of coffee and immediately wincing as it hit his tongue with a slight “bleh.”

“Is that black coffee, Moons?” Cassie asked, crossing her arms and leaning against the credenza by the window.

Remus nodded, grimacing. “Mhm.”

“You hate black coffee,” Cassie said.

“I’m also exhausted. Spent all night coming up with lesson plans for today,” Remus admitted.

“Since when do you procrastinate?” Cassie asked.

Remus chuckled. “Last night, apparently.”

“Right. Well, you know you’re allowed to put sugar in it. Should wake you up just the same—the caffeine content isn’t changed by adding sugar.”

“Reverse placebo,” Remus said, taking another sip of the bitter drink.

“What?” Cassie mouthed, shaking her head.

“So, what are you doing here?” he asked, setting the mug down.

“Sitting in on your class, obviously,” Cassie said, emphasizing obviously like Snape would, which made Remus laugh. “I have a free period, remember?”

“Oh, right,” Remus said, slipping on his coat. “Boggarts today.”

“So that’s what’s in the giant wardrobe,” Cassie said.

Remus nodded. “And Harry’s in this class.”

“And I assume you haven’t spoken to him yet?” Cassie asked.

“Nope,” Remus said.

Cassie sighed dramatically.

“Soon, I promise,” Remus said, holding up his pinky.

“Fine,” Cassie said, linking her pinky with his.

Remus had always stayed true to his pinky promises—ever since she was a little girl, they’d been doing them. Big promises, small promises, silly promises—it didn’t matter. If he gave his word with a pinky, it was as good as done.

Students had started trickling into the classroom, greeting them both with waves. Remus turned to Cassie. “Right—five minutes till class. And I mean this with the utmost love—just stay out of the way. They still have to learn.”

“Of course,” Cassie said, trying to sound compliant.

Remus raised an eyebrow skeptically.

“I will,” Cassie groaned, rolling her eyes.

That’s when Harry and Ron walked into the room.

“Cassie!” Ron called, waving.

“Hi, Cassie,” Harry said with a grin.

“Hey, guys,” Cassie replied, smiling.

“You in this class too?” Ron asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, just sitting in on Remus, making sure he’s a good teacher,” Cassie said, giving a playful shrug.

“And staying out of the way,” Remus added, resting a hand lightly on Cassie’s shoulder.

“He’s decided to be a naff today,” Cassie whispered, though she wasn’t exactly trying to keep it from Remus.

“All right,” Remus said, flicking his wand so a chair slid up next to the table that held the record player. “You’ll be over there for class.”

“What is this? Dirty Dancing?” Cassie asked, crossing her arms.

“No, but yes,” Remus replied, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “I’m putting Cassie in the corner. Now go on, get over there—I’m starting.”

With a wry eye roll Cassie made her way over and sat crossing a leg over her knee.

Remus clapped his hands once, drawing the class’s attention. “Right, everyone—over here. Clump together, if you would.” He herded them toward the wardrobe, which gave another violent shake, making the students eye it warily.

“Intriguing, isn’t it?” he said, almost cheerfully. “Would anyone like to venture a guess as to what’s inside?”

“That’s a Boggart, that is,” a boy near Harry spoke up.

“Very good, Mr. Thomas,” Remus said with a nod. “Now—can anyone tell us what a Boggart looks like?”

“No one knows,” Hermione answered, seemingly appearing at Ron's elbow. Cassie wasn’t even sure when she’d slipped in. “Boggarts are shape-shifters. They take the shape of whatever a person fears most. That’s what makes them so—”

“So terrifying, yes, yes, yes,” Remus cut in smoothly, just as the wardrobe gave another resounding thud. “Luckily, a very simple charm exists to repel a Boggart. Let’s practice it now—without wands, please. After me.”

Thud.

“Riddikulus!”

“Riddikulus,” the class echoed back.

“Very good. Louder, clearer—listen.” He lifted a finger. “Riddikulus.”

“Riddikulus!” the group chorused again, stronger this time.

“Excellent,” Remus said, smiling faintly. “Well—so much for the easy part. You see, the incantation alone won’t do it. What really finishes a Boggart is laughter. You need to force it into a shape you find truly amusing. Let me explain. Neville—will you join me, please?”

Thud.

Neville looked around, as if checking that Remus had really meant him.

“Come on, don’t be shy,” Remus encouraged, beckoning him forward with both hands. “Come on, come on.”

Neville eyed the rattling wardrobe, then shuffled forward, uneasily clutching his wand.

“Hello, Neville,” Remus said warmly. “What frightens you most of all?”

Neville stammered something under his breath.

“Sorry?” Remus leaned in.

“Professor Snape,” Neville said louder, his face pinking.

The class burst into good-natured laughter.

Remus nodded thoughtfully. “Professor Snape. Frightens all.” He bounced once on the balls of his feet, then added, “And I believe you live with your grandmother, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Neville admitted quickly. “But I don’t want the Boggart to turn into her either!”

The class laughed again, and even Cassie snorted softly from her corner.

“No, no, it won’t,” Remus assured him, glancing back at the wardrobe as it thudded once more. “I want you to picture her clothes, Neville. Only her clothes. Very clearly in your mind.”

“She carries a red handbag…” Neville started.

“We don’t need to hear,” Remus said with a small smile. “As long as you see it, we’ll all see it. Now—when I open that wardrobe, here’s what I want you to do…”

He leaned in, whispering something in Neville’s ear. Neville’s eyes widened.

“Can you do that?” Remus asked, then answered for him with brisk confidence: “Yes. Wand at the ready. One… two… three!”

With a low whistle, the wardrobe clicked unlocked and creaked open. From the shadows stepped Snape himself—hook-nosed, menacing, arms folded, glaring down at Neville.

“Think, Neville. Think!” Remus urged from just behind him.

Snape stalked forward, slamming the wardrobe door behind him.

Neville raised his wand. “R-Riddikulus!”

In an instant, Snape stumbled backwards—swallowed by a long green dress, topped with a ridiculous vulture hat, a fox fur draped around his shoulders, and a bright crimson handbag swinging at his side. Yellow stockings peeked from beneath the hem, ending in dainty ladies’ boots.

The class howled with laughter.

Neville blinked, then broke into a grin, shoulders squaring.

“Wonderful, Neville! Absolutely wonderful!” Remus praised, clapping him lightly on the back. “Alright, to the back. Everyone else, form a line.”

The students hurried to comply, excitement bubbling in their chatter.

“Now,” Remus continued, striding to the front, “I want each of you to picture the thing you fear most—and then turn it into something funny. Cassie—music, if you please.”

Cassie hopped up and dropped the record needle. After a scratch of static, jaunty swing filled the room—Hot Liquorice by Dick Walter.

“Perfect,” Remus said, nodding along. “Next—Ron!”

Ron froze, horrified, but shuffled reluctantly to the front as Remus guided him forward with a hand and wand point. Cassie leaned her chin into her hand, already entertained.

“Concentrate, Ron,” Remus urged. “Face your fear. Be brave.”

The Snape-in-grandmother’s-clothes dissolved into a whirling mass that shot forward, reshaping itself into a massive spider with gleaming legs.

Ron whimpered, stumbling back, but drew his wand shakily.

From Cassie’s corner, Remus leaned casually against her chair. “Wand at the ready, Ron. Wand at the ready!”

“That’s my ear, Moony,” Cassie muttered without looking up, swatting his elbow away.

“Riddikulus!” Ron bellowed, pointing.

In a flash, bright roller skates snapped onto each of the spider’s hairy legs. It immediately began to teeter and shuffle, sliding helplessly across the floor, its balance gone.

The class roared with laughter, and Ron, finally grinning, dropped his shoulders in relief.

Remus chuckled pointing "you see very good, very good. Marvelous. Absolutely, very very enjoyable. Next—Parvati,” Remus said, flicking his wand toward her.

Parvati stepped forward, her face pale but determined. The wardrobe gave another violent shudder before bursting open, and out slithered a massive hissing cobra, its hood flaring as it reared up to strike.

Cassie’s feet immediately pulled up onto the rungs of her chair.

he snake gave a lurch mid-strike, twisting and stretching unnaturally until it shot upward into a giant jack-in-the-box clown. Its springy body wobbled, its painted face grinning far too wide, swaying forward and backwards towards Parvati and away.

The class burst into relieved laughter, but Cassie scrunched her nose, still finding it rather unsettling.

Remus turned to her, giving her shoulder a light push. “They’re doing well, aren’t they?”

Cassie nodded, though her eyes flicked nervously toward the front. Harry was stepping up next. Both she and Remus watched him with a quiet, unspoken concern—what on earth would his boggart become?

The wardrobe shuddered, then split open. At once, the air grew colder. The shape twisted, darkened, and finally solidified into a dementor. Taller, darker, and infinitely more horrifying than the one on the train, it leaned toward Harry with a rattling breath.

Cassie didn’t even think—she leapt from her chair, only to slip on the polished wood and land hard on the floor. At the same moment, Remus lunged forward, planting himself between Harry and the boggart.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion.

“Here!” Remus shouted, arms spread wide, shielding Harry. From the floor, Cassie’s breath caught in her throat as the dementor wavered, then warped, its body dissolving into a rolling bank of dark clouds. The clouds swirled, parting to reveal a bright, shimmering white moon.

Cassie scrambled to her feet instantly, heart hammering.

“Riddikulus!” Remus cried, snapping his wand. The moon gave a ridiculous squeal, then deflated like a punctured balloon. It whizzed wildly around the room, bouncing off the walls as students ducked and yelped, until finally it zipped back into the wardrobe. The door slammed shut with a bang.

Harry remained frozen, still staring at the wardrobe, his knuckles white around his wand.

“Right, well,” Remus said, slightly breathless, trying to recover the moment. “Sorry about that. Uh—yes, that’s enough for today. If you’d all collect your books from the back, that’ll be the end of the lesson. Thank you.”

The class groaned in protest, muttering as they shuffled toward the back, though Remus added apologetically, “Sorry, sorry—go on. You can have too much of a good thing.”

Behind him, Harry lingered, motionless, before he finally turned and left in silence.

Cassie dragged herself back over to the chair and dropped into it with a sigh. Remus shut the classroom door, then turned, scrubbing a weary hand down his face.

“That could not have gone worse,” he muttered, leaning against the wall beside her.

“It was good until the end,” Cassie said quickly. “It was very good.”

“Till the dementor,” Remus said flatly.

Cassie was quiet a moment.

“And you?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“The moon.”

Remus sighed, shoulders sinking. “Fine… y’know, that was the first moon I’ve seen with my own eyes in close to twenty-nine years.”

Cassie pressed her lips together, words caught in her throat.

Remus cleared his throat, forcing a lighter note. “Whaddaya say we go to lunch early?”

“Let’s do it.” Cassie stood, and together they headed for the door. Remus held it open for her.

As they walked into the corridor, Cassie glanced up at him. “Did you see me eat shit?”

Remus burst out laughing. “Yes.”

Chapter Text

1. An Unexpected Visitor

August 7th 1993

The Yorkshire countryside was quiet that morning, dew still clinging to the grass around the crooked little cottage. Inside, Cassie pressed a cool cloth to the fresh gash across Remus’s shoulder. He winced, but the corner of his mouth tugged into a smile.

“Not too bad last night. This one happened when you couldn’t see me,” she said, tugging her wand from the loop she’d stitched into her trousers—a small modification she’d made so she could keep it close at hand.

Remus let out a tired sigh. “It still amazes me you did that.”

“Did what?” Cassie asked, flicking her wand. Gauze wound itself neatly around his shoulder.

“Kept a mandrake leaf in your mouth for a month. Sat straight through an electrical storm. Endured pain most grown wizards wouldn’t dare. And studied the process until you fell asleep on your books.” Remus ticked them off like items on a parchment, his tone half-admonishing, half-amused.

Cassie rolled her eyes as she gathered up the gauze and damp cloth. “You make it sound so much worse than it was. If the Marauders could do it, why couldn’t I?”

Remus chuckled. “Merlin, ‘the Marauders’ sounds so cheesy now.”

Cassie laughed too, tossing the cloth into the sink. “Who even came up with it?” she asked, dragging out the chair beside him and sinking into it.

Remus’s smile faltered. He swallowed, eyes shifting away. “Sirius,” he muttered.

Cassie tilted her head, a sigh slipping past her lips. The look she gave him was equal parts exasperation and concern. “Moony…”

Remus hummed, finally turning back to her.

“I know what he did was unforgivable,” she said, her voice soft, careful not to upset him, “but it’s been twelve years.”

Remus’s jaw tightened. “He’s the reason they’re dead. He’s the reason you never got to meet your cousin, your aunt, your uncle. And what if…” His voice broke slightly before he forced himself to finish. “What if he was connected to your parents, too?”

Cassie’s breath caught. That was something she hadn’t considered.

“You knew him,” she said, meeting his eyes.

“Not as much as I thought,” Remus admitted, his voice low.

For a few moments, the cottage was silent. Sunlight pooled on the worn wooden floor, and the faint smell of herbs lingered in the air.

“I assessed everything. That gash is all that’s there,” she said quietly. “Let me know if you need anything, but what you need most is sleep.”

Remus smiled at her. “As do you. Dark circles, Miss Great-Eared Nightjar,” he teased.

Cassie batted his hand away. “I was eleven, Moony. It was the only animal that looked even remotely like a dragon without actually being one.”

Remus lifted his hands in mock surrender, a grin tugging at his lips. “It’s cool, I swear.”

Cassie smirked. “Well, it’s not like I can change it now. Better than a scruffy old wolf-man,” she teased.

He pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. “This scruffy old wolf has kept you fed, clothed, and trained in more defensive charms than most Aurors know.”

Cassie grinned. “And I’m eternally grateful. But you’ll never win a contest of majestic Animagi, Moony. Sorry.”

Remus gave a long-suffering sigh, though his eyes crinkled with amusement. “Merlin help me, you sound more like James every day.”

“Good. Someone’s got to keep you from brooding.”

Remus shook his head, chuckling under his breath. “Merlin, you’re insufferable.”

“And you,” she said, standing and brushing off her hands, “are exhausted. Bed. Now.”

“I’m fine,” Remus tried, but when he reached for the cane propped against the chair, the stiffness in his movements betrayed him.

Cassie was already there, slipping an arm under his and steadying him as he rose. “Fine, huh?” she teased gently.

He gave her a wry look as he leaned on the cane. “All right, maybe not fine. Just… mostly fine.”

“Mm-hm. And mostly fine still needs sleep.” She guided him toward the hall, her tone mock-stern. “Healer’s orders.”

Remus allowed himself to be steered, a small smile lingering on his face. “Bossy. Just like your mother.”

Cassie bit the inside of her cheek, warmth and ache tangled together in her chest. “Then I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It is,” Remus said softly. “You’re the perfect mix of your mum, your dad… and Lily.”

“And you,” Cassie added without hesitation.

He huffed a laugh. “Don’t flatter me.”

Cassie arched a brow at him. “Remus, you’ve raised me for twelve years. Did you really think I wouldn’t pick up some of you along the way?”

Remus shook his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth despite himself. “Merlin help you, then.”

Arriving at the narrow hallway between their rooms, Cassie gestured toward Remus’s. “Sleep, Moony,” she said gently.

He gave her a tired smile, eyes already heavy. “You sound more like your mother every day.”

Cassie lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching him settle under the blankets before quietly pulling the door closed.

She turned back, slipping into her own room, the soft creak of the floorboards the only sound in the quiet cottage.

Cassie’s room was a cozy chaos of color and memory, the kind of space that felt completely her own. Her bed sat in the center, draped with a patchwork quilt she had stitched herself, each square a tiny story. To the right of the doorway stood a small dresser, its top crowded with trinkets, old photographs—some moving, some still—and the occasional odd charm she’d picked up along the way.

In the left corner, a towering wall-mounted bookcase leaned just slightly, groaning under the weight of countless books; one more volume and it might topple entirely. Her night table was no more than a precarious stack of books beside the bed, each one serving double duty as decoration and bedside reading.

Her walls were a gallery of her own paintings, interspersed with strings of fairy lights that cast a warm, twinkling glow. Paper butterflies—cut from old book pages— band posters and polaroids fluttered across the surfaces, adding to the eclectic charm. A record player perched on a side table, with its collection of records stacked neatly in storage below, ready to fill the room with music at a moment’s notice.

To the right of her bed, a small desk was a hive of healing supplies: jars of herbs, bundles of dried plants, and open encyclopedias stacked on the floor and the desk alike, a testament to the care she poured into her work. Every inch of the room whispered of her curiosity, her creativity, and the life she had built for herself in the little Yorkshire cottage.

Sighing at the sight of her bed, Cassie let herself flop face-first onto it. Her wand pressed uncomfortably into her hip, and with a soft grunt, she fished it from the belt loop and dropped it onto the quilt beside her. She wriggled upward, trying to get comfortable, but after hours in jeans—comfortable enough for normal wear, but not designed for twenty-four-hour stints—they felt all the more restrictive.

She groaned at the thought of moving, but slipping into something more comfortable made it slightly more bearable. Wriggling to the edge of the bed, she let herself slide onto the floor. She sat there for a moment before crawling across the room to her dresser and heaving herself up. Digging through a drawer, she pulled out a worn Zeppelin shirt, soft and faded from countless washes—probably Sirius’s.

She held it up, a small ache blooming in her chest. She missed Sirius. Honestly, she did. She understood now why Remus carried so much bitterness toward him—that he had caused so much heartbreak—but he had also been a huge influence on her life.

From ages one to three, Cassie’s parents had left her at Uncle Moony and Uncle Pad’s London townhouse. She'd always had fun with them but what she remembered most was a game they’d played together, which Sirius had named Shooting Star—of course he had. It involved Padfoot dashing around the ground floor with Cassie on his back while Remus tried to catch them. She and Sirius always won.

Grabbing a pair of shorts and heading for the bathroom, Cassie smiled at the memory, warmth and nostalgia mingling with the faint sting of missing him.

Sirius had also been her first real example of an Animagus. When she was old enough to understand, Remus had told her stories of how the Marauders had become Animagi to help him through the full moons. Intrigued, Cassie did her own research—and eventually became one herself. Remus hadn’t approved at first, but he knew there was no stopping her once she set her mind to it.

Cassie rubbed her eyes as she stepped into the bathroom, grimacing at her reflection in the mirror. Remus had been right—those circles were dark. But it was for him; always taking care of him. Anything for their Moony, just as the Marauders had always said.

Stepping into the shower, she turned on the tap, letting the cool water splash against her face. The chill woke her senses, washing away the lingering fatigue from the long night. She sighed, blinking rapidly, before drying off and slipping into the soft, worn Zeppelin shirt. The fabric smelled faintly of him, a comforting reminder of the past, and she felt a small smile tug at her lips.

Her feet padded across the floorboards as she returned to her room, taking in the familiar chaos that always made her feel at home. The fairy lights strung across the walls cast a gentle glow over the stacks of books and jars of herbs, the paper butterflies and old photographs fluttering slightly in the breeze from the open window.

Cassie dropped onto her quilt with a contented sigh, letting the warmth of the bed and the quiet of the cottage settle around her. Exhaustion weighed so heavily on her that even the hazy morning light slipping through the curtains didn’t bother her. She was asleep within minutes.

***

At around midday, Cassie woke to an incessant tapping. It was faint but unmistakable. She tried burying her face deeper into her pillow, but the sound refused to stop. With a groan, she shoved herself upright and trudged out of her room.

She shut her door and turned quickly, nearly colliding with Remus in the hallway.

“Bloody hell,” she gasped, steadying herself. “Sorry, Moony.”

“S’okay,” he muttered, rubbing a hand down his tired face. “Am I going mad, or do you hear that tapping too?”

“I hear it, Moons,” Cassie said through a yawn. “I was just on my way to check it out myself.”

The tapping grew sharper, more insistent, echoing from the kitchen. Cassie exchanged a glance with Remus before padding ahead. When she stepped inside, her eyes went to the window on the right—where a great tawny owl glared at her with piercing golden eyes, its beak striking the glass like a hammer.

“What the—” Cassie muttered, tilting her head at the bird.

“What is it?” Remus asked as he hobbled in after her. His eyes followed her gaze and landed on the owl. “Oh, bollocks.”

The owl pecked again, sharp and impatient, as if offended at being kept waiting.

Cassie raised a brow. “Friend of yours?”

“Not exactly,” Remus sighed, already reaching for the latch.

The moment the window swung open, the owl swept inside in a rush of wings. One powerful flap sent a cool draft through the kitchen, tugging at Cassie’s hair as it landed squarely on the table. It gave an exasperated hoot, feathers ruffled, and stuck out its scaly leg with the letter tied firmly in place.

“All right, all right,” Remus muttered, leaning down to untie the parchment. “Scram, then, you ornery old thing.”

The owl clicked its beak in sharp disapproval but took off anyway, brushing Cassie’s shoulder with its wingtip as it shot back out into the open sky.

Cassie shut the window once more, watching as Remus tore open the envelope. She leaned against the sill, arms crossed, waiting.

He read aloud:

"Mr. R. J. Lupin,

Professor Dumbledore wishes to pay you a visit today around tea time. He understands it's short notice and apologizes.

Hoping you are well."

“Who’s it from?” Cassie asked.

“Doesn’t say,” Remus muttered, tossing the letter onto the table. “But it must have come from the Hogwarts Headmaster’s office.”

The coldness in his eyes was immediate, the distance in his posture unmistakable.

“What’s wrong?” Cassie asked softly, reading the tension in his face.

“Years of nothing,” he said, voice low and bitter. “Nothing, Cass. And he just invites himself over? After all this time—after everything—and he never tells me the full story?” His hands clenched into fists, knuckles white.

Cassie stepped closer but said nothing, letting him work through the storm that had been building for years. She understood, in part, the weight of his frustrations: loyalty, grief, and a moral code that had been repeatedly tested by Dumbledore’s choices.

“Part of me just wants to leave,” he muttered, eyes fixed on the table. “Go somewhere, occupy myself, and leave Dumbledore to find an empty house.”

“But?” Cassie prompted softly.

“But I really want to know what this is about,” he admitted. “We haven’t been in touch for years. I know nothing about the Order, and… it must be important.”

Cassie glanced at him, reading the tight line of his jaw and the faraway look in his eyes. “I think you’re worrying too much,” she said softly.

Remus shook his head. “It’s not worry. It’s… knowing him. Knowing how he operates. I can’t tell if this is trivial or—” His voice trailed off, the weight of years of secrecy pressing down.

Cassie crouched by the cupboard and rummaged through their little stash, emerging with a chocolate bar. She held it out like an offering. “Eat. You’ll feel better.”

He gave her a faint, reluctant smile. “You making fun of me, missy?” he teased, breaking off a piece.

“No,” she said, snapping off a piece for herself. “Just taking after you.”

That made Remus laugh.

“So,” Cassie said, rewrapping the chocolate bar, “we’re going to be kind when this Dumbledore fellow comes round, right?”

“Yes, Mum,” Remus replied, smirking.

“Shut it, old man,” Cassie shot back.

“Enough of this ‘old man’ shit,” Remus said, grinning. “I’m not even middle-aged.”

"Yet" Cassie said touching a finger to his nose.

“Cassie!” Remus barked, swatting at her hand.

But she was already laughing and sprinting toward her room, leaving him shaking his head with a fond smile.

***

At a quarter to Dumbledore’s arrival, Cassie finally pulled herself together and changed, deciding pajamas—or anything close to them—wouldn’t cut it. She slipped into pale green trousers and a soft blue jumper, the fabric light enough to bear the summer warmth. It wasn’t fancy, but it was respectable, and more importantly, it was comfortable.

She tugged on a pair of worn brown boots and bent to lace them up, double-knotting just in case. Straightening, she caught her reflection in the mirror.

She nodded once, then turned for the bathroom.

“Wand,” she muttered, pulling it from her drawer and going to twist it up into her hair like she often did. But her eyes drifted back to the open drawer—where a pair of scissors lay waiting. Smirking, she set the wand aside and swapped it out.

Her fringe had grown past her brows, so she trimmed it back, neat enough for now. She snipped at the rest, too, giving her jaw-length cut its usual shape. It wasn’t the first time she’d done this herself—she liked her hair short. Her parents had kept it cropped when she was little, and after they died, Remus simply carried on because he hadn’t a clue what else to do. As she grew, she stuck with the style—it was easier, cleaner—and eventually softened it with a fringe so it wasn’t so blunt. Remus never minded. Saved them money, and Cassie turned out to be good at it. Good enough, in fact, that she even cut his hair on occasion.

“Cass?” she heard Remus call, and a moment later he wandered straight into her room.

Cassie froze mid-snip, like she’d been caught doing something illicit.

“Oh—you’re cutting your hair,” he said, not the least bit surprised, tugging at his sleeve. “Do you think I look scruffy?” He asked it so earnestly she almost laughed.

Cassie held up her index finger and thumb, leaving only the tiniest gap. “Just a little bit.”

“Mm.” He rolled his eyes. “Think you could fix me up, then? Still want to look… presentable. I guess.”

Cassie smiled and nodded. “Grab that chair,” she said, nodding toward her desk.

Remus leaned forward, grabbed the back, and hauled it across the floor into her bathroom before settling onto it.

Cassie immediately got to work, trimming here and there, though he didn’t actually need much—probably just a brush would’ve done it. She snipped with practiced ease, careful but efficient.

Remus twitched subconsciously, but Cassie caught it. “Hold still, Moony. I swear I won’t lop your ears off.”

“Sure,” he teased back, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

Cassie rolled her eyes, scissors poised. “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous today. A single stray lock and I might just—”

“—give me a new hairstyle I didn’t ask for?” he finished, raising an eyebrow.

“Exactly,” she said, snipping a stray lock with precision.

Then, picking up her wand, Cassie flicked it with a practiced little flourish. A quick gust of air blew across Remus’s face, ruffling his hair back and sending the clipped strands scattering to the floor.

He sputtered, blinking through the sudden breeze. “Was that really necessary?”

Cassie grinned, tucking her wand behind her ear. “Completely. Besides, now you’re debris-free. You should be thanking me.”

Remus huffed, though his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile. “Right. Thank you for nearly blowing my eyebrows off.”

Cassie stepped aside, letting him catch his reflection.

“Not half bad,” he said, running a hand through his hair.

“Best you’ve ever looked,” Cassie replied, arms crossed.

“Rude,” Remus muttered.

Before she could fire back, a sudden sharp crack split the air.

Cassie leaned toward the window by her bed, peering out at the man in a blue cloak with a long white beard. “Merlin,” she breathed.

“Dumbledore,” Remus corrected dryly.

“Oh, shut up,” Cassie said, already heading for the door, twisting her wand into her hair. “Come on—I’d like to meet the man.”

Cassie was the first down the hall, her boots thumping against the floorboards. She reached the door, heart beating faster than she cared to admit, and pulled it open.

Professor Dumbledore stood framed in the doorway, tall and imposing yet somehow gentle, his half-moon spectacles glinting in the light. The faint scent of lemon drops and parchment seemed to follow him.

“Miss Lupin, I presume?” he said, voice warm, eyes twinkling as they studied her.

“Lark, actually,” Cassie corrected, chin lifting a little.

Dumbledore’s smile deepened, as though she’d passed some unspoken test. “Ah. Then forgive me, Miss Lark. A pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.”

Before she could reply, Remus’ voice came from just behind her—dry, clipped. “Professor.”

“Remus,” Dumbledore inclined his head. “Thank you for receiving me on such short notice.”

Cassie glanced between them, feeling the shift in the air. Warmth on one side, winter on the other.

Remus’ mouth thinned. “Not as though you gave us much of a choice, is it?”

“Would you like tea, Professor?” Cassie cut in quickly, flashing Remus a warning look.

“That would be lovely, Miss Lark. Three sugars, thank you.”

Cassie nodded. “Remus, remind me where the good tea is?” She tilted her head at him—an unspoken nudge.

“You can sit, if you’d like,” Remus said to Dumbledore, before trailing Cassie into the kitchen.

The moment they were out of earshot, Cassie spun on him. “You’re an adult, Moony. Act like it.” She tried to sound stern but was laughing.

Remus crossed his arms, rolling his eyes though a smile tugged at his mouth. “Yeah, yeah—mum.”

“Okay, but seriously. Where’s the good tea?”

He chuckled, shaking his head.

The water boiled quickly, and Cassie poured it into three mugs, dropping in the tea bags. She set two on a tray with three stirring spoons and extra sugar, and with a flick of her wand, the tray floated obediently into the sitting room, settling on the coffee table between them.

Cassie sank onto the couch beside Remus, across from Dumbledore.

“Thank you, Miss Lark,” Dumbledore said, lifting a mug.

“Cassie is fine,” she replied, placing her own mug on the table.

Dumbledore’s smile deepened. “Cassie, then.”

She nodded.

“Elodie and Nicholas’ daughter,” Remus said quietly.

Cassie swallowed, a faint ache tugging at her chest.

Dumbledore’s eyes softened, his gaze lingering on her. “Their daughter… I knew Elodie and Nicholas well. Wonderful people, truly. I am so very sorry for your loss, Cassie. They were extraordinary, and it is clear their kindness and courage live on in you.”

Cassie nodded, a lump forming in her throat, grateful for the sentiment but unused to such open acknowledgment of her parents.

“Right… why are you here?” Remus asked, sharper than he intended.

Dumbledore inclined his head, placing his mug on the table. “You must be waiting for an explanation, Mr. Lupin. I’m sure you’ve heard the news?”

Remus shrugged. “What news? If you think we’re getting owls out here, yours would be the first.”

Dumbledore sighed.

“What?” Remus pressed.

“You haven’t been in contact with Mr. Black, have you?” Dumbledore asked.

Cassie saw Remus visibly cringe.

“No… why would I be—”

“He’s dead, isn’t he?” Cassie blurted.

“No,” Dumbledore said gently. “He’s escaped.”

“What?!” Cassie exclaimed.

Remus buried his face in his hands.

“Escaped? What do you mean, escaped?” Cassie demanded.

“Sirius Black has escaped Azkaban." He scoffed. "I thought it impenetrable; I didn’t know anyone could break out,”

“He’d be the first,” Dumbledore said.

“How?” Cassie asked.

“Sirius Black was—and is—quite the gifted wizard,” Dumbledore replied.

“And a bastard,” Remus muttered under his breath.

“This news is not, in fact, the reason I’ve come,” Dumbledore said gently. “I assumed word had already reached you. The true reason is… another matter entirely. A position has opened at Hogwarts, and I believe you would do wonderfully as a teacher.”

Remus’ head snapped up, eyes wide. “A teacher? Are you mad?!”

“I know you’d fill the post well—”

“Professor,” Remus cut in sharply, “you understand I am a werewolf. A werewolf. Teaching children?” His laugh was brittle, bitter. “That has to be your daftest idea yet.”

“I believe that because of your lycanthropy and your experience in the Order, you would be more than qualified to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts,” Dumbledore said. “And with the news of Black’s escape—”

“You want me nearby,” Remus interrupted, his voice low.

“I want you both nearby, for your protection,” Dumbledore said, his eyes meeting Remus’. “I know he was quite close to you, Remus.”

“And Cassie,” he added, looking at her gently.

“But he wouldn’t come after us, would he?” Cassie asked, glancing between Dumbledore and Remus.

“Wouldn’t dare,” Remus said flatly.

“He wouldn’t,” Dumbledore agreed, “because I highly doubt he is after you.”

Cassie frowned. “What?”

Dumbledore inhaled deeply, eyes serious. “Harry.”

Remus scrubbed a hand down his face. “Harry,” he repeated. “How old is he now?”

“Thirteen,” Dumbledore said softly. “Just like them, you know… like James and Lily.”

Cassie smiled sadly.

“But I’m sure Black is on his way to Harry, to finish the job,” Dumbledore continued.

“So you also want me there to watch over Harry?” Remus asked, his voice tense.

Dumbledore nodded. “Thought you might like to.”

Remus glanced at Cassie.

“Should you choose to accept,” Dumbledore said, reaching inside his cloak and producing an envelope, “Miss Lark has a spot at Hogwarts awaiting her.” He handed it to Cassie.

Cassie took it, eyes wide. She looked at Remus, heart racing. She had never seriously considered Hogwarts—she had been perfectly content with Remus’ homeschooling—but now, the opportunity stretched out before her.

Remus turned back to Dumbledore. “Okay,” he said, voice firm but cautious.

---

2. Firework to the Face

On the first of September, 1993, Cassie and Remus rose with the sun, their bags already packed from the night before. It would be their first train ride of the day: one into London, then the more important one—the scarlet steam engine bound for Hogwarts.

While it would have been quicker and easier to Apparate straight to King’s Cross, Remus insisted she experience the magic of slipping through a barrier Muggles could never cross.

“I remember my first time,” Remus said as they cut through the forest path toward the station. “Ran at the wall full speed. Thought I’d knock myself out on the bricks—imagine my shock when I never hit it.”

Cassie snorted. “But how’d you know to run at it? Sounds mad.”

“Dumbledore told me,” Remus said with a shrug, a chuckle escaping him. “And I believed him. Look where that got me.”

“Look where it got me,” Cassie shot back. “My only friend at this new school is an old tosser who also happens to be a teacher… who also happens to be a werewolf.”

Remus arched a brow. “Who also happens to be your godfather.”

Cassie laughed.

By seven, she and Remus were settled on the train, the steady clatter of wheels carrying them closer to Hogwarts.

Cassie pressed her cheek to the glass, legs swinging as she bounced in her seat, barely able to contain her glee.

“Cass,” Remus said.

“Hm?” She turned to look at him.

He exhaled slowly. “I know you’ll want to talk to Harry when you see him,”

“Well, of course. He’s family,” Cassie said.

“But you must remember,” Remus went on, “Harry’s world is very small. Right now, all he really knows is that Lily and James were his parents, and they died twelve years ago. He doesn’t know about me, Peter, or Sirius. And his aunt and uncle—your aunt and uncle too—hate magic. I’d bet they kept your family from him too."

Cassie’s tone deflated. “Nobody told him?”

“I’d wager Dumbledore hasn’t, no,” Remus admitted with a huff. “Which is why you can’t drop everything on him all at once. I’ll tell him too, but when the time is right.”

“Okay.” Cassie lowered her eyes to her lap.

“But he will know,” Remus added, trying to lift her spirits. “Then it won’t be just me you have.”

“You’re still family, Moony,” Cassie assured him.

Remus smiled fondly, but his expression shifted suddenly. “Oh—” he said, “you can’t call me Moony at school. Or, at least, not in front of people.”

“What? Why?!” she whined.

He crossed his arms. “Why am I called Moony?”

“Because you’re a werewolf,” she said quietly.

“Right,” he said, holding up a finger. “That’s one reason.”

“There’s another?” Cassie asked.

Remus nodded. “There’s a certain map probably roaming around Hogwarts with my name on it—well, Moony—but still me.”

“But I thought you said the map was confiscated in your fifth year,” Cassie said.

“It was. But what makes you think some troublemakers haven’t found it? Troublemakers made it!” Remus said.

“Touché,” Cassie muttered, smirking.

Time on the train passed slowly, and with little to occupy her, Cassie soon felt her eyelids growing heavy.

“I think I’m going to nap for a bit,” she said, shifting her trunk from the seat beside her and tucking her feet up. “Early morning’s got me.”

“Sleep,” Remus replied. “I’ll be here.”

“How long is the train ride?” she asked, shutting her eyes and leaning against the window.

“Four hours,” he answered.

She hummed in response, and within minutes, she was out.

About three and a half hours later, she stirred as Remus poked her gently with his cane.

“Hm? What?” she murmured.

“We’re pulling in,” he said with a grin.

That sobered her up instantly, and her eyes snapped to the window.

Cassie pressed her face to the glass as the train slowed, her heart skipping a beat. The station was vast, bustling with people moving in every direction, their hurried steps echoing off the high, arched ceiling. Luggage trolleys clattered across the polished floor, and the scent of coal, steam, and baked goods mingled in the air. She’d never seen a place so alive, so loud, so full of motion.

Her eyes darted around, taking in the crowds of muggles with their hurried expressions, the families saying goodbyes, and the strange mix of announcements over the PA that echoed like music to her ears. It was overwhelming—and exhilarating.

“This is Platform Five,” Remus murmured from across the aisle. “We’ll head to nine and three-quarters as soon as we’re off.”

The train screeched to a stop, wheels grinding against the rails. The carriage was nearly empty, so without waiting for anyone ahead, Cassie was on her feet in an instant.

Grabbing her trunk, she turned eagerly. “Come on, Remus!”

“Okay, okay,” he chuckled, falling in step behind her.

The moment Cassie stepped onto Platform Five, the scents hit her full force—the sharp tang of coal, the warm aroma of baked goods, and the faint metallic tang of luggage trolleys clattering across the polished floor. Everything smelled richer, more alive than she’d imagined.

“Wow,” she breathed, eyes wide.

“That’s not even the coolest part,” Remus said, leaning down slightly. “Come on.” He was already moving ahead.

Cassie gaped at him for a moment, then snapped back to reality and jogged after him, quickly falling into step.

“You can see the barrier from here,” Remus pointed ahead.

“I know it’s supposed to look like a brick wall—and sometimes act like one—but really…you could’ve fooled me. That looks solid,” Cassie said, her voice full of disbelief.

“Wait till you’re running at it,” Remus teased, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Cassie groaned at the thought. Running full speed into a solid brick wall? No thanks.

They continued weaving through the bustling station, passing each platform in turn. Seven. Cassie’s chest felt tight, a mix of nerves and excitement fluttering in her stomach. Eight. Every step closer to the barrier made her pulse quicken.

Now they stood between nine and ten. Cassie glanced up at Remus.

“Ready?” he asked.

Cassie swallowed hard, then nodded.

Remus held out his arm. “I’ll take your trunk, so you can just go.”

She nodded again, handing it over. Breathing deeply, she turned toward the wall behind her. Above, a small sign indicated Platform Nine. Just beyond that wall lay the hidden Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

“It’s easier if you run,” Remus said.

“Right,” Cassie muttered, steeling herself.

Cassie took a deep breath and shut her eyes. Then, she ran.

She didn't hit a brick wall, instead, she felt a wave of magic surge through her—thick, humming, alive. She froze, eyes still closed, heart pounding in disbelief.

When she opened them, the world on the other side took her breath away. The arching sign that read 9¾, the gleaming scarlet train, the chaos of cloaks and trunks and cats and owls in cages—it all shimmered with something more. Everything was brighter, sharper, more vivid, as if she’d stepped straight into the pages of a storybook.

She spun around, taking it all in again, a laugh bubbling from her lips. “It’s… it’s amazing!”

Remus appeared behind her, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Here,” he said, handing over her trunk.

Cassie blinked, still gaping at the vibrant scene before her, and took the trunk almost automatically. She hardly noticed the weight in her hands—and didn’t even hear Remus’ soft, “Come on,” her eyes glued to the chaos around her.

As she scanned the crowded platform, drinking in the sea of witches and wizards, a sudden realization struck her.

Remus was gone.

It was like the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice—if Orpheus had listened to Hades and was Eurydice’s godfather.

“Oh bollocks,” she muttered. Not that she couldn’t get on a train by herself—the bright red engine was right there. But her plan had been to sit with Remus, and now there was a chance she’d lost him until they reached Hogwarts. Cassie might have to find a spot on her own.

Ahead, a clock caught her eye. Her eyes widened. 10:58. Two minutes to get on the train.

She started weaving through the crowd. Why are there so many people still?! she thought. After far too many “excuse mes,” she finally hopped aboard as the last whistle blew.

The train began to chug away from the station. Cassie caught the goodbyes of parents, watched them blowing kisses to their children. She gave a small nod and stepped further inside.

"Now to find the numpty who left me…" she muttered under her breath.

Cassie wove her way down the narrow corridor, pressing herself against the sides whenever students passed. All the while, her eyes darted into each compartment, searching for Remus. She crossed into another car, which appeared empty—or so she thought, her sole focus still on finding him.

She continued down the corridor, eyes scanning the compartments, when a sudden yell cut through the noise.

“Fred! Watch it!” the voice shouted.

Cassie froze, heart skipping a beat. When her eyes adjusted, she realized she was staring down the barrel of some kind of rocket aimed straight between her eyebrows. She crossed her eyes, trying to track the swirling object.

A split second before it struck, she ducked, hands covering her head. The tiny rocket whizzed past, sparks singeing the few hairs standing on top of her head. At the end of the corridor, it popped loudly, emitting a small firework.

Cassie stood, blinking at the charred sparks littering the floor. Then, just as quickly, she spun around to find the culprit.

In front of her stood two identical boys. One grinned with palpable pride, the other wore a sheepish, apologetic smile.

“Did you see that, George? It worked!” the proud one shouted.

The other ignored his brother entirely. “I am so sorry,” he said earnestly.

Cassie scowled, smoothing her hair back with one hand, clearly unimpressed. It was obvious who had launched the rocket.

“Really?” she said, narrowing her eyes at the boy who was still gawking.

“What?” he asked, genuinely clueless.

Cassie looked back at the scattered gunpowder, then at him again, utterly dumbfounded. “You’re serious?”

“What?” He glanced at his brother. “Am I missing something?”

“That was extremely dangerous,” Cassie snapped. “How could you just shoot a firecracker at someone?”

“Firework,” the boy corrected with a cheeky grin.

“Even worse!” Cassie shot back.

“Not like it blew your head off,” he shrugged.

“Well, it could have,” she stepped closer, voice low.

“But it didn’t,” he mirrored her stance, grin still fixed.

It was clear the other twin had no idea what to do.

“Oi, what’s happening?” a voice called from behind.

Cassie turned to see a boy with matching red hair and freckles, holding a gray, fat rat in his hands.

“George and I were just testing a new product, baby brother,” the firework-wielder said.

“And nearly beheaded me,” Cassie added, arms crossed.

“But we didn’t,” he leaned closer, repeating, “like I said before.”

“Fred, stop terrorizing people—it’s not even the first day,” the younger boy scolded.

With that, the twins walked off—the apologetic one muttering more “sorrys” behind, the other smugly staring at Cassie, which she harshly returned.

“Sorry about them,” the boy behind her said. Cassie turned and realized she hadn’t noticed two other kids standing just beyond him.

One was a girl with mid-length, slightly frizzy, curly brown hair, carrying her trunk in one hand and a large, bushy orange cat in a carrier in the other. Setting her trunk down, she held out her hand.

“Hermione Granger.”

“Cassie,” she replied, shaking it.

At the back of the little group stood a boy with shaggy black hair sticking up in every direction. He wore round glasses, and when his eyes met Cassie’s, she froze. She knew those eyes—bright, piercing green. Her Aunt Lily’s eyes. She’d grown up seeing them in photos, and she would’ve recognized them anywhere. She didn’t need a scar to tell her who he was. She was meeting her cousin—the Chosen One.

“Harry,” the boy said, shaking her hand.

“Lovely to meet you,” Cassie said, and meant it wholeheartedly.

“Harry,” the ginger boy urged, “you lead—I can’t find a compartment.”

“Fine,” Harry muttered, stepping closer to Cassie.

“Would you like to sit with us?” Hermione asked.

“That’d be lovely,” Cassie said with a smile.

“I’m Ron, by the way,” the freckled boy added. “Sorry my brothers were bothering you. They want to open a joke shop someday, so they’ve been making and testing products for years.”

“Are they always so observant?” Cassie asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Always,” Ron said with a sigh.

“One was actually sorry. The other? Not so much.” Cassie rolled her eyes.

“Probably George.”

“Yeah—it was George,” Cassie nodded, recognizing the name.

“The other is Fred. He thinks he’s the funnier twin, but George is just as funny.”

“Seems like he’s the crueler twin,” Cassie muttered.

“You’re not wrong about that,” Ron admitted.

Up ahead, Harry was telling a story about how he’d accidentally blown up his aunt as they continued searching for a compartment.

“I didn’t mean to blow her up. I just… lost control,” Harry said.

“Brilliant,” Ron chuckled.

“Honestly, Ron, it’s not funny,” Hermione scolded. “Harry was lucky not to be expelled.”

“I think I was lucky not to be arrested, actually,” Harry corrected.

“I still think it was brilliant,” Ron said, grinning.

Harry blew up his aunt, Cassie thought to herself. Huh.

“Come on, everywhere else is full,” Hermione sighed, stopping in front of a compartment.

They slid the door open, and Cassie trailed in after them—only to nearly drop her trunk in shock.

There, slumped in the corner seat, was Remus. Fast asleep.

“Who do you think that is?” Ron asked, dropping into the seat opposite, closest to the window.

“Professor R. J. Lupin,” Hermione said matter-of-factly.

Harry was still wrestling his trunk onto the rack. He caught Cassie’s eye and tilted his head toward hers in silent offer.

“Thanks,” she said, letting him hoist it up before settling in next to Remus with a quiet chuckle.

“You know everything,” Ron muttered, staring at Hermione. “How is it she knows everything?”

Hermione pointed at the battered suitcase above Remus’s head. “It’s written on his suitcase, Ronald.”

“Oh.”

“Do you think he’s really asleep?” Harry asked, sitting next to Cassie.

“Unless you plan on making the same annoying noise over and over again, yeah—he’s out.”

Ron frowned. “And how would you know that?”

Cassie smirked. “Oh, he’s my godfather.”

There was a chorus of surprised “ohs.”

“Why?” Hermione asked, tilting her head curiously.

Harry straightened and slid the compartment door shut. “I’ve got to tell you something.”

Sitting back down, he turned to Cassie. “Can I trust you?”

“I’m new, I’ve got nobody to tell,” Cassie said with a shrug.

“You are new,” Hermione said, giving Ron a pointed look. “I told you, Ron.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Alright, alright. What’s the big secret then?”

Harry huffed and explained, quietly, that Arthur Weasley had told him Sirius Black was after him. That he was in danger because Voldemort’s return depended on him, and he was the only thing standing in the way.

Through the conversation, the sky outside darkened, sheets of rain hammering the train.

“Wait, let me get this straight,” Ron said slowly. “Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban… to come after you?”

"Yeah," Harry nodded, still seeming to struggle with the reality.

Hermione leaned forward, voice tight with concern. “But they’ll catch him, right? I mean, everyone’s looking for him.”

Ron shrugged. “Sure… except no one’s ever broken out of Azkaban before. And he’s a murderous, raving lunatic.” His eyebrows knitted in fear.

“Thanks, Ron,” Harry muttered flatly.

Cassie was itching to say something about Sirius or that harry was her cousin, but stayed quiet on the matter.

"I'm sure youll be fine harry" Cassie assured him

Suddenly, the train lurched, wheels squeaking.

“Why are we stopping?” Hermione asked, sitting straighter. "We can't be there yet." Her voice tinged with worry.

Cassie looked around at everyone in the compartment, concerned.

Harry stood, slid the compartment door open, and peeked into the corridor. A low, ominous rumble echoed through the train. The carriage tilted, and he stumbled backward into his seat.

“What’s going on?!” Ron cried.

The door clicked shut with a harsh snap.

“Dunno… maybe we broke down?” Harry said, tone almost hopeful.

“Maybe it’s the weather?” Cassie offered, eyes flicking to the fogged-up windows.

Then the lights flickered—and went out.

Everyone froze. Eyes shot to the light.

Ron pressed his face to the glass.

“Ouch, Ron, that was my foot,” Hermione snapped.

“There’s… someone moving out there,” he blubbered, voice trembling.

The emergency lights flickered on briefly, dim yellow, then cut out again, plunging them into shadows.

Ron pressed his hand harder into the fogged glass. “I think… someone’s coming aboard.”

The train lurched again. The compartment door creaked open an inch—then clicked shut.

Cassie snapped her head toward the door, Harry following. Their eyes locked on it, wide and wary.

The temperature dropped.

Breath bloomed in white clouds. Warmth drained from the air, replaced by a heavy, creeping cold that settled deep in their bones.

A sharp crackle echoed from the window. Ice crystals spread from Ron’s pressed hand, creeping like spiderwebs, twisting and curling across the pane.

The cold reached the water bottle near Remus, freezing it solid in moments.

Cassie glanced at Remus, but her slept on, unbothered.

Even the windows on the door frosted over, swirling with ice patterns.

The train lurched violently, nearly sending Ron and Hermione sprawling.

“Bloody hell!” Ron exclaimed. "What's happening?!"

An eerie whistle pierced the air. All heads snapped toward the door.

From the corner of it, ragged strips of dark fabric fluttered like dead leaves caught in a restless wind. The edges twisted and curled with a life of their own.

Cassie’s hand shook as she pointed.

The whistling wind and ragged breathing filled the compartment.

A bony, decayed hand appeared from the black cloak, hovering near the door, moving with unseen magic. Slowly, agonizingly, the door creaked open.

Cassie held her breath.

The towering cloaked figure stepped into view, its face swallowed in shadow beneath a black hood.

It inched closer. Hermione’s cat hissed, fur bristling. Ron’s rat squeaked, retreating into his jacket.

A distorted whooshing filled the air.

Cassie wanted to scream, but no sound came.

Then the figure turned toward Harry, leaning in. A sudden chill swept through the compartment, an invisible, desperate tug draining the light from him.

Cassie’s eyes widened in horror, glued to the scene in front of her.

Suddenly, Remus sprang to his feet, wand raised. A brilliant white light shot from its tip, striking the cloaked figure and forcing it back, its ragged form recoiling with a hiss.

Cassie snapped back to reality and looked up at Remus, standing tall, then at Hermione and Ron, who were staring at Harry sprawled unconscious on the bench-seat.

“Harry? Harry, are you all right?” Hermione asked, panic in her voice.

Harry blinked, disoriented. Hermione quickly held his glasses out to him.

“Thank you,” he said, taking them and adjusting them carefully.

Remus reached into his pocket and pulled out a chocolate bar, snapping off a piece. “Here,” he said, offering it to Harry. “Eat this. It'll help.”

Harry propped himself up on his elbow, taking a cautious bite.

“It’s all right. It’s chocolate,” Remus reassured him.

“Wha-what was that thing… that came?” Harry asked, glancing toward the door.

“It was a Dementor,” Remus said, his gaze following the door. “One of Azkaban’s guards. It was searching the train for Sirius Black. It’s gone now.”

Remus placed the chocolate bar on the bench between Cassie and Harry. He then stood, heading for the door. Pausing, he glanced back at them. “Eat. You’ll feel better,” he said firmly.

With that, he stepped out and let the door close behind him.

“Be right back,” Cassie said, rising without explaining further. The look on Remus’ face as he left the compartment was… unusual, and it made her pause, a flicker of concern rising.

Shutting the door behind her, she found him slumped against the wall a few feet away.

“You okay?” she asked softly, hurrying to his side.

Remus gave a small, uncertain nod. “I thought I was ready to see him… I thought I’d be okay. I didn’t expect to see him so soon. But… I saw Lily in his eyes, and James in everything else.”

“I know,” Cassie said, looking down at her feet. “Lily was the first person I saw too.”

Remus’s eyes softened. “You did?”

Cassie nodded. “And while it hurts, it’s also… comforting, in a way, to have them both here, even if they’re not… really here.”

“Very mature and wise of you, Cass,” Remus said.

“Got it from you,” Cassie replied.

He chuckled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and giving her a gentle squeeze. “I’ll come find you before we get off, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Cassie said.

“Kay,” he said. “Love you, Cass.”

“Love you, Moons,” she whispered back quietly before returning to the compartment.

---

3. Prefects, Parties, and Pumpkin Juice

The Hogwarts Express screeched to a halt at Hogsmeade Station. Just as he’d promised, Remus came to fetch Cassie. What she didn’t expect, however, was that they’d be ushered into a private carriage.

“This is… not how I got to school,” Remus muttered, eyeing the inside of the enclosed coach. It had real doors, actual seats, and more than one thestral pulling it. Definitely not the rattling wagons from his day. “Don’t get too comfortable, Cassie. Next time, you’ll be in one of the open carriages, the kind that feel like a hayride through a pumpkin patch.”

Cassie chuckled softly, peeking out the window at the bony, winged creatures. “Misunderstood creatures, Thestrals,” she murmured, almost to herself.

Remus turned sharply toward her, eyes wide with surprise. "How—"

“I watched that stray die this summer,” Cassie explained quietly, heart clenching as the memory surfaced.

Remus’s expression softened. “I’d forgotten that happened. You’ve always been such an empath, Cass.”

Cassie swallowed harden. “It was bleeding out, Moony. I didn’t know what to do.”

Remus gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Alright, alright—let’s not get all mopey before we go in,” he said softly, nodding toward the window. “Look, we’re just pulling up.”

Cassie followed his gesture, and sure enough, the towering silhouette of the castle loomed closer through the rain-streaked glass. The rain had stopped, leaving the view crisp and clear against the deep, dark blue of the evening sky.

The castle stretched endlessly upward, turrets and towers outlined against the twilight. Every window and archway glowed with warm, golden light, spilling out like morning. Cassie’s breath caught in her throat. She had seen pictures, read about it, even imagined it a thousand times—but nothing had prepared her for the real thing.

“Was it this magical when you first came?” she breathed.

“Yes,” he admitted, a small smile tugging at his lips. “But I pretended I wasn’t absolutely awestruck.”

“How?” she asked, still gaping at the castle, eyes wide.

“Because I was a prick at eleven,” Remus admitted, “a thick, hard arse.”

“You were mad then,” Cassie said, turning back to him, a small smile tugging at her lips.

The carriage slowed, the thestrals’ hooves clattering softly on the cobblestones as they pulled up to the castle. Cassie slid the door open and hopped down, brushing raindrops from her sleeves.

“Thank you,” she said kindly, inclining her head to the thestrals. The creatures gave a quiet, almost imperceptible snort before shifting their weight, ready to return to the stables.

Remus followed her out, stretching slightly. “Alright, let’s not keep Hogwarts waiting.”

Before they could take another step, the massive doors of the castle creaked open. Cassie saw the older woman first. Her eyes immediately took in the sharp lines of her face, the stern set of her mouth, and the wire-rimmed spectacles that balanced neatly on her nose. Her dark robes swished as she moved, precise and controlled, every gesture deliberate. Yet there was a subtle warmth in her gaze that suggested she could see far more than she let on. Cassie felt a shiver of respect—or maybe awe—creep up her spine; this was someone used to command, and she carried it effortlessly.

“Remus Lupin,” the woman said, her voice surprised yet warm, as though pleased the rumors of his return were true. “Albus told me, but I wasn’t sure you’d actually show up.”

Remus chuckled. “You can thank this one for that.” He gave Cassie a gentle nudge forward. “She convinced me.”

Cassie smiled sheepishly and stuck out her hand. “Hello ma'am, my name is Cassie Lark.”

The woman shook it firmly. “Professor McGonagall, dear. We’re pleased to have you at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

Cassie’s smile grew a little easier at the kindness in her tone.

McGonagall then turned to the girl beside her. “Miss Lark, meet Miss Thorne—another transfer.”

Cassie’s eyes landed on the girl: waist-length curls of chestnut brown, the most beautiful hair Cassie had ever seen, and bright blue eyes like the ocean on a cloudless day. She was a little shorter than Cassie, though not by much.

“Lyra,” the girl said, extending her hand.

“Cassie,” she returned with a smile.

“And you both are beginning your fifth year, yes?” McGonagall asked.

Both girls nodded.

“Perfect. Then let’s head inside. The Headmaster wishes to speak with you.”

She turned toward the towering doors, Remus falling easily into step beside her. “How have you been, Minnie?” he asked with a grin.

The two girls exchanged a look, then broke into soft giggles before hurrying to follow them.

“Fifth year then.” Cassie asked. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Lyra replied with a small shrug. “Feels weird, though—starting now, when everyone’s already got their friendships and… everything.”

Cassie, feeling strangely at ease with her already, bumped her shoulder against Lyra’s. “Hey, now you’ve got one.”

Lyra’s smile warmed at that.

Cassie grinned. “If it makes you feel better, I thought my only friend here was gonna be that old codger up there.” She jerked her chin toward Remus. “My godfather. Hogwarts alumn and he newest addition to staff.”

“For one,” Lyra said with a teasing smile, “you’ve got two friends now—technically. And two—” her tone shifted toward curiosity—“where on staff is he being placed?”

“He’s filled a teaching position,” Cassie answered, a little pride sneaking into her voice. “Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

“Brilliant,” Lyra said. “Cheers, really—he must be quite qualified.”

“He is,” Cassie replied, her voice firm. Then, softer, to herself, she added, “For more reasons than one.”

Thankfully, Lyra didn’t hear her.

They trailed after the two professors, who were deep in conversation, catching up after years apart. The girls followed them through the echoing entrance hall, then into a smaller reception hall, until they stopped before two towering wooden doors stretching from floor to ceiling. Professor McGonagall pushed one open, and the four of them stepped into the Great Hall.

Cassie's eyes were saucers.

Four long tables ran the length of the chamber, candles floating serenely above them, their light glimmering off golden plates and goblets. But it was the ceiling that stole her breath—a vast, swirling canvas of deep blue, alive with stars and drifting clouds, perfectly mirroring the heavens outside. She’d read about it in Hogwarts: A History, but nothing could have prepared her for this. Night, the cosmos, the infinite skies—it was everything she loved, everything she felt connected to.

“I could get used to this,” she murmured, still gazing upward, utterly enchanted.

So much so, in fact, that Lyra had to grab her by the back of her shirt.

“We stopped,” Lyra whispered, amusement in her voice.

Cassie blinked, cheeks warming. “Just a bit… overwhelmed. But in the best way possible.”

A little ways off, Remus and Professor McGonagall were speaking with the headmaster himself. Cassie’s eyes lingered on Dumbledore’s kind expression, though her mind wandered again to the stars overhead, losing herself in their motion. She didn’t notice the headmaster approach until Lyra nudged her in the ribs. Cassie startled, eyes snapping down to the man now standing before them.

“Miss Lark,” Dumbledore greeted warmly, “how lovely to see you again.” He turned to Lyra with equal kindness. “And Miss Thorne, what a pleasure to meet you at last. You are both entering your fifth year, am I correct?”

“Yes,” the girls answered together.

“Splendid. Just as I thought.” His blue eyes twinkled. “The first years will be sorted shortly, after which I’ll make a few announcements before the feast begins. A most anticipated moment, I daresay.”

Cassie nearly laughed at how easily he’d read her mind—her mouth was already watering at the thought.

“As for you two,” Dumbledore went on, “there will be a sorting as well, though not with the first years. A private one, later this evening, in my study. Professor McGonagall and I will meet you there after the feast.” He gestured behind the staff table, where a thin, hunched man with a permanent scowl was setting up a small two-person table. “Mr. Filch has kindly arranged seats for you here in the meantime, as well as cloaks to keep you warm.”

The man dropped two folded cloaks onto their table before scuttling away.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” Dumbledore finished, giving a small bow before turning back toward the staff table.

Cassie and Lyra exchanged a look, excitement sparking bright between them.

“I can’t believe I’m actually here,” Lyra whispered.

“I know,” Cassie said, slipping into her seat and running a hand over the soft cloak. “I never thought I’d be here either.”

“Me neither.” Lyra smiled, tugging her own cloak around her shoulders.

Cassie chuckled. “VIP table for us, huh?”

The two girls grinned, settling in as the rest of the staff began to file into the hall.

They were chatting about lord knows what when the great oak doors creaked open wide, and what looked like thousands of students spilled into the hall. The crowd surged forward in a rush of robes and chatter, but just as quickly split off, each group finding their designated tables.

“Merlin, that’s a lot of people,” Cassie murmured, eyes darting across the crowd as though she might drown in it.

Lyra leaned closer, her voice pitched just for her. “And we’ll be in there soon.”

Cassie huffed a soft laugh, though her chest felt tight. It startled her, how at ease she already felt with Lyra. For years, she’d only had Remus—her safe place, her anchor—and she’d never really believed she’d let anyone else in. But Lyra was different. Somehow, impossibly, Cassie felt like she could trust her.

Cassie leaned back into her with a grin. “Can’t wait,” she said.

The great oak doors swung open again, and a line of nervous-looking first years filed into the hall. The Sorting Hat was brought out, placed on a stool at the front, and one by one, each child was called forward. The Hat’s brim twitched, muttered, and shouted its decisions, sending the students off to cheers from their new tables. Cassie watched with quiet fascination, remembering McGonagall’s promise that she and Lyra would face the same ritual later that evening.

Once the last first-year bounded to their seat, the hat and stool were whisked away. The room eventually quieted on its own as a small choir gathered at the front of the hall, lining up the steps like a set of risers. It was peculiar, though—several of them carried very large toads perched on cushions.

“What do you think those are for?” Lyra whispered, tilting her head.

“They’re gonna sing,” Cassie quipped, clearly joking.

Except, as it turned out, that was exactly what happened.

The choir began, the toads croaking in perfect, if bizarre, harmony. Cassie and Lyra sat frozen, eyes wide as saucers, listening in quiet bewilderment.

The song ended with one final, resounding croak. Cassie and Lyra snapped their heads toward each other, mouths breaking into huge grins before slapping their palms together and clapping enthusiastically.

The sea of students and toads gradually parted as Dumbledore appeared at his golden owl-shaped podium, candles flickering above the spread of its wings.

He raised his arms wide. “Welcome! Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! Now, I’d like to say a few words before we become befuddled by our excellent feast.” He clasped his hands together, eyes twinkling. “First, I am pleased to welcome Professor R. J. Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Good luck, Professor.” He gestured toward Remus.

Remus stood, bowing his head with a sheepish smile.

Cassie had to fight the urge to leap up and whoop, instead trying to make her claps the loudest in the hall. Lyra, despite only having met them moments ago, clapped with the same unshaken enthusiasm—like she’d known them for years.

When the clapping subsided, Dumbledore continued, “As some of you may know, Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher for many years, has decided to retire in order to spend more time with his remaining limbs.”

Cassie and Lyra flicked their eyes toward each other, eyes widening at the mention of "remaining limbs."

“Fortunately, I am delighted to announce that his place will be taken by none other than our own Rubeus Hagrid!” He gestured to the enormous, shaggy-haired man seated beside Professor McGonagall. Hagrid stood, beaming, and nearly toppled the staff table, sending goblets of water trembling. The whole hall erupted in cheers—it was clear he was well loved here.

Dumbledore raised a hand for quiet. “Finally, on a more disquieting note: at the request of the Ministry of Magic, Hogwarts will, until further notice, play host to the Dementors of Azkaban—until such a time as Sirius Black is captured.”

A hush fell, whispers breaking out across the room.

Cassie wasn’t sure what to feel. The students in this hall were terrified of the man she had once loved so dearly. Her chest tightened, but when she looked up, she caught Remus at the staff table giving her a small, reassuring nod.

“The Dementors will be stationed at every entrance to the grounds. Now, whilst I have been assured that their presence will not disrupt our day-to-day activities, a word of caution. Dementors are vicious creatures; they will not distinguish between the one they hunt and the one who gets in their way. Therefore, I must warn each and every one of you: give them no reason to harm you. It is not in the nature of a Dementor to be forgiving.”

Moments later, Dumbledore’s grave tone shifted completely, as if it had never been. He spread his arms wide, a twinkle flashing in his eye.

“Well! Tuck in!”

At once, the golden platters lining each table filled themselves to the brim—mountains of roast meats, steaming bowls of potatoes, jugs of pumpkin juice, baskets of bread, and more than Cassie could take in at once.

Her mouth nearly watered just looking at it. She caught Lyra’s eye, and both girls broke into delighted grins before reaching eagerly for the dishes nearest to them.

***

“Alright, where the hell is Dumbledore’s office?” Cassie groaned, spinning in a slow circle. She and Lyra had been wandering each floor since the feast ended, and it felt like they’d covered each floor twice over.

“Of course we get no guidance on how to get there,” Lyra muttered, arms folded.

Cassie shook her head, mild annoyance flickering across her face.

“Hey—did you take the train up?” she asked, changing the subject.

Lyra quickly turned her head, pretending to study a painting on the wall, quickly becoming amazed it was alive. “Oh, no. Professor McGonagall brought me here,” she said quickly, then pivoted right back. “What happened on the train?”

Cassie’s throat tightened, but she forced her tone to stay even. “A dementor came on board. Searching for Sirius Black.”

Lyra’s head snapped back to her, eyes wide. “What?!”

“I know,” Cassie said with a wry twist of her lips. “And apparently”—she gave a weak chuckle—“that’s not normal.”

“Shocker,” Lyra replied.

They kept walking until Lyra suddenly froze in her tracks. “I just had the most brilliant idea.”

Cassie raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“We’ve been wandering around lost when we could use the brilliantly magical, shocking resources all around us!” Lyra spun, arms wide, then stopped in front of Cassie. “The paintings!”

“Ask…the paintings?” Cassie repeated.

“I mean, it’s worth a shot. Come on,” Lyra said, grabbing Cassie’s wrist and hauling her forward.

Cassie chuckled, letting herself be pulled along.

Still holding Cassie’s wrist, Lyra led them through the corridors, scanning the portraits as they tried to pick which witch or wizard might be kind enough to give them directions.

They stopped in front of an older wizard in green robes, his kind face brightening as they approached. Lyra nudged Cassie forward.

“You had the idea,” Cassie muttered.

“Exactly,” Lyra shot back. “I had the brilliant idea, now you can do the talking,” she pushed Cassie gently ahead.

With a good-natured sigh, Cassie faced the wizard. “Hello, sir. You wouldn’t happen to know where Professor Dumbledore’s study is, would you?”

“Seventh floor, find the gryphon, thats the entrance.” he replied with a warm smile.

“Thank you very much,” Cassie said, turning toward the stairs.

“Thank you, sir!” Lyra called after her, hurrying to catch up.

“My pleasure,” the wizard said as they walked away.

“Told you!” Lyra called after Cassie.

“Yeah, yeah, you were right,” Cassie said, hopping onto the first step and turning to face Lyra. “Not even friends a day, and you’re already being snarky with me—” She ended in a shriek as the staircase shuddered and groaned, twisting beneath her feet.

Lyra nearly doubled over laughing as Cassie grabbed the railing for balance, the steps shifting and turning as if they had a mind of their own.

“This isn’t funny!” Cassie protested, though her laughter betrayed her.

“No, you’re right—it’s not,” Lyra said, not really meaning it, catching her breath between giggles.

Cassie slapped her forehead, still laughing. “There’s other stairs over there,” she pointed. “Meet me on the next floor!”

Lyra dashed across the corridor, laughing as she bounded up the stagnant steps. Cassie met her halfway on the sixth floor, both of them out of breath but grinning from ear to ear.

Without slowing down, Cassie grabbed Lyra’s hand and tugged her toward the stairs to the seventh floor, the two of them laughing like they’d just been dropped into the middle of a chick flick.

The castle was mostly empty now, save for the occasional stray student drifting through the halls, their footsteps echoing faintly off the stone walls.

On the seventh floor, the girls found the stone gryphon that guarded the entrance to Dumbledore’s study—shockingly quick. Cassie’s grin spread wide, pride flickering in her eyes as she stared up at the carved bird.

“Uh, Cass,” Lyra said slowly. “He never told us the password.”

Cassie’s bubble of joy popped.

“Shit.”

Lyra nodded, lips pressed in a tight line.

“Maybe I’ll just… tell it Dumbledore needs us?” Cassie offered.

Lyra shot her a flat look.

Cassie rolled her eyes playfully, then turned back to the statue. “’Scuse me,” she said, voice lighter than she felt. “Dumbledore asked us to his study. Cassie Lark and Lyra Thorne?”

To their utter shock, the stone gryphon groaned, then twisted aside, revealing a spiral staircase winding upward.

With a smug smile, Cassie stepped onto the first stair. “You’re not the only one with good ideas today.”

“I can’t believe that worked,” Lyra muttered, cautiously following.

“Magic,” Cassie teased.

The staircase began to rotate, carrying them smoothly upward like an enchanted escalator. Both girls stared in awe, though Lyra’s wide-eyed wonder made her look as though she’d just stepped into a fairy tale.

The staircase deposited them before a polished oak door with a brass griffin-shaped knocker. Cassie reached out, heart thumping, and pushed.

The study beyond made her stop in her tracks.

It was a beautiful circular room, large and airy, with windows set deep into the stone walls. The high, domed ceiling glittered with the reflections of dozens of curious silver instruments that stood whirring and puffing on spindle-legged tables. Richly embroidered rugs muffled their footsteps as they stepped inside. Portraits of past headmasters and headmistresses snoozed or stirred in their gilded frames, and the shelves were crammed with books so ancient some looked as though they might crumble to dust at a touch. A magnificent claw-footed desk dominated the far side of the room, gleaming with polished wood.

Cassie’s eyes caught on the most extraordinary sight of all: a golden perch by the desk, and upon it, a phoenix of the richest scarlet and gold, dozing with its head tucked under one wing.

And there, standing in front of the desk, was Professor Dumbledore himself, hands folded calmly. Professor McGonagall waited beside him, sharp eyes softened.

Lyra’s mouth had parted the moment they stepped in the castle, and she hadn’t closed it since. Her eyes roamed the walls, the whirring instruments, the shelves sagging under books, and finally landed on the phoenix.

“Bloody hell,” she whispered before she could stop herself.

Cassie elbowed her lightly, trying not to grin. She was impressed too, though she forced herself to walk forward.

Dumbledore’s blue eyes twinkled as he regarded them, the corners crinkling with warmth. “Ah. Miss Lark. Miss Thorne. Welcome.”

His voice filled the room without effort, gentle yet commanding all at once. “I trust the castle has not overwhelmed you too badly on your first evening?”

Lyra’s face flushed as she finally managed to shut her mouth. Cassie, though, answered with an easy smile.

“Not yet,” she said, “though it certainly tries.”

Dumbledore chuckled. "Well i dont want to keep you too long, shall we get on with the sorting?"

Dumbledore chuckled, the sound like soft bells. “Well, I don’t want to keep you too long. Shall we get on with the Sorting?”

McGonagall, standing prim beside Dumbledore, stepped forward with the battered old Sorting Hat in her hands. Its frayed brim twitched as though it already sensed the task ahead.

“As you are both entering Hogwarts at an older year,” she began, her crisp voice steady but kind, “the process is much the same as it is for the first-years. The Sorting Hat will be placed upon your head, and it will determine the House to which you are best suited. There is no need to be nervous—the Hat sees far more than you think, and it always makes the right choice.”

Lyra shifted on her feet, staring at the ragged thing like it might leap out of McGonagall’s hands. Cassie, meanwhile, tilted her head, curiosity sparking in her eyes rather than fear.

McGonagall’s gaze softened just slightly. “Who wants to go first.”

“You go first, Lyra,” Cassie said, giving her a gentle nudge.

“Really?” Lyra glanced back at her, eyes wide.

Cassie nodded firmly. “Go on.”

With a quick breath, Lyra stepped forward. Cassie watched as Professor McGonagall lowered the battered hat onto her head, its brim twitching the moment it settled in place.McGonagall’s gaze softened just slightly. “One at a time, please.”

“You go first, Lyra,” Cassie said, giving her a gentle nudge.

“Really?” Lyra glanced back at her, eyes wide.

Cassie nodded firmly. “Go on.”

With a quick breath, Lyra stepped forward. Cassie watched as Professor McGonagall lowered the battered hat onto her head, its brim twitching the moment it settled in place.

Lyra went still, her shoulders stiff at first before slowly relaxing. Her lips parted just slightly, as though she were listening to someone Cassie couldn’t hear. Cassie leaned forward unconsciously, desperate to know what the Hat was saying, what it was seeing in Lyra. But of course, it was silent to everyone else.

A minute stretched longer than Cassie thought it should. She held her breath, her hands tightening in her lap. Then—

"GRYFFINDOR!"

MMcGonagall removed the hat as Lyra whipped around, her eyes sparkling. "Guess I’m in Gryffindor!" she said, practically bouncing with excitement.

Cassie laughed softly, feeling a flutter of happiness for her new friend.

"Congrats" she said quietly stepping forward. McGonagall gently lowered the Sorting Hat onto her head, the falling over her eyes.

She pushed it up when a voice echoed in her mind—soft, curious, and probing. Ah… you are clever, perceptive, and cautious. You think before you act. You have a keen sense of right and wrong… but you hide your courage behind careful planning.

Cassie felt a flutter of surprise. But don’t you see? the voice pressed. There’s bravery in you too—bravery you only show to those you trust. You are loyal, steadfast… perhaps even bold when the moment demands it.

Her chest tightened. Bold? Brave? she thought. She had spent so long with only Remus, trying to stay safe, trying not to let the world in… and now, the Hat was asking her to see herself differently.

You will be tested, of course. Danger and challenge will seek you, as it seeks all of Hogwarts’ children. But your heart… your heart will guide you.

Cassie felt a swell of something like pride, mixed with fear. I… I want to do the right thing. I want to be brave.

The voice hummed, satisfied. Very well. Yes… you belong in…"

"GRYFFINDOR!" the voice said out loud.

McGonagall removed the hat from her head, and Cassie spun to meet Lyra’s eyes. “Looks like I’m in Gryffindor too!” she exclaimed, stepping forward to give Lyra a quick, excited hug.

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles. “Ah, Gryffindor! Splendid choice,” he said warmly. “And I see… you two already share quite a bond.” He leaned slightly on his desk, the corners of his mouth curling in amusement. “Such camaraderie makes it all the more fitting for you to share a dormitory.”

Lyra glanced at Cassie, a mixture of surprise and delight lighting her face. Cassie’s lips twitched into a grin. Hogwarts had a way of making the impossible feel perfectly natural.

“Normally, you’d have two other students dorming with you,” Dumbledore continued, “but given your situations and your arrival for the fifth year, you will be sharing a dorm—just the two of you.”

“Really?” Lyra asked, a little too excitedly.

“Yes,” Dumbledore said with a nod. “Arguably the best-case scenario, but…” He pressed a finger to his lips with a playful shush. “But,” he added with a mischievous smile, “before you start celebrating, I believe Professor McGonagall has a few questions for you both.”

At the sound of the door creaking open, Minerva McGonagall stepped in, her sharp gaze softening as it landed on the two girls. “Ah, Miss Thorne, Miss Lark,” she said briskly, “I need to know which electives you might wish to take this year. Once I have that, I can ensure your timetables are arranged properly.”

“What are the options?” Lyra asked, a little sheepishly.

“Arithmancy, Muggle Studies, Divination, Study of Ancient Runes, and Care of Magical Creatures,” McGonagall stated matter-of-factly.

“Let’s do Care of Magical Creatures and Divination,” Lyra said cheerily.

McGonagall wrote them down, then turned to Cassie expectantly.

“Arithmancy and Ancient Runes,” Cassie said, and McGonagall jotted it down. “And, Professor… do you know if there are any classes on healing?”

“There are no specific classes,” McGonagall replied, “but I’m sure if you spoke with Madame Pomfrey—are you interested in healing?”

“Very much so,” Cassie said.

McGonagall gave Dumbledore a knowing look, one that Cassie caught instantly.

“I was wondering if there are any healing tracks… I don’t know, it’s just what I want to do one day,” Cassie explained.

“I will inform Madame Pomfrey for you, but both Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, along with Herbology and Potions, will all help in your healing endeavors,” McGonagall said.

“Thank you, Professor,” Cassie replied.

McGonagall handed both girls their new timetables "your common room is behind the portrait of the fat lady, the password is Fortuna major" the both girls turned for the door.

“Thank you!” Lyra called after her.

“Miss Lark, one more thing—can we speak with you?” Dumbledore asked.

“Uh…” Cassie looked at Lyra, then back to the professors. “Yeah, I’ll… um, meet you out there,” she said to Lyra.

“Kay,” Lyra said, opening one of the oak doors and slipping out.

“Everything all right, Professor?” Cassie asked once they were alone.

“Yes,” Dumbledore said gently. “Professor McGonagall and I wanted to ask you something.”

“Take a seat, Miss Lark,” McGonagall said, gesturing to a chair.

Nerves bubbled in Cassie’s stomach. She’d never been to the Headmaster’s office—mostly because she’d never even been to school before.

Cassie took a tentative seat, hands folded in her lap. Dumbledore’s eyes softened behind his spectacles, while McGonagall regarded her with her usual sharp attentiveness.

“Miss Lark,” Dumbledore began, “I’ve known of Remus’ lycanthropy since he was a boy. And I also know from my visit that you’ve been with him—”

“Twelve years,” Cassie finished, her voice quiet but steady. “And patched him up after full moons for as long as I can remember.”

“And we’d like for you to continue, if that’s what you wish,” McGonagall said.

Dumbledore nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. “Your dedication is extraordinary, Miss Lark. It is rare to see such unwavering loyalty and care at any age, let alone yours.”

McGonagall’s gaze softened slightly. “Indeed. And it is precisely because of this… experience, this devotion, that we would like to entrust you with a special responsibility at Hogwarts this year.”

Cassie’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Responsibility?”

Dumbledore smiled gently. “We would like to make you a prefect, Miss Lark. In this role, you will have the authority and support to continue assisting Mr. Lupin, ensuring he is properly cared for, without unnecessary obstacles.”

McGonagall handed Cassie a shiny red pin that read Prefect.

“That would be amazing,” Cassie said, her eyes lighting up. She looked down at the pin in her hand. “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome, Cassie,” Dumbledore said kindly. “It’s clear he means a great deal to you.”

“He’s my family,” Cassie replied softly.

Dumbledore smiled and gave a small nod. “Thank you, Miss Lark. That is all.”

With a grin, Cassie turned and made her way out of the office.

Lyra was waiting in the corridor. “What’d they want?” she asked as they started toward Gryffindor Tower.

“They actually made me prefect!” Cassie said, holding up the pin.

“Brilliant! That’s amazing, Cass!” Lyra cheered.

“Thanks. I just think it’s mad they’d make a girl they barely know a prefect,” Cassie said, though she knew half the reason why.

“But they know your godfather, right? He went here?” Lyra asked.

“Yeah, he did,” Cassie said with a small smile.

“Then maybe Dumbledore has a good judge of character—or maybe he believes you’re just like him.”

“He’d be right. I’m just like Remus,” Cassie said with a chuckle.

The girls continued walking until they stood before the portrait of the Fat Lady. She was singing—and it wasn’t good.

Cassie cleared her throat. “’Scuse me?”

Nothing. The Fat Lady kept singing.

“Ma’am, um… Fortuna Major?” Lyra tried.

Still nothing.

Cassie leaned toward Lyra, whispering, “How are we supposed to get inside?”

“Fortuna Major!” Lyra said louder.

The portrait didn’t stir.

Cassie gave Lyra a look and nodded. Lyra instantly understood.

“Excuse me!” they both shouted in unison.

The Fat Lady finally stopped, blinking at them. “Oh! Hello there,” she said sweetly. “Password?”

“Fortuna Major,” Cassie said.

“Welcome to Gryffindor common room,” the Fat Lady replied, swinging open.

“Thank you!” Lyra said brightly.

“Thanks,” Cassie echoed as they stepped inside.

The portrait swung open, and instead of the quiet, firelit haven Cassie had been told about, she and Lyra were blasted by thundering music and flashing lights that pulsed across the walls like fireworks.

The Gryffindor common room—normally warm and cozy with its deep-red armchairs, squashy couches, and golden glow from the fire—had been completely transformed. Every inch of space was filled with students laughing, dancing, and shouting over the music. Streamers of scarlet and gold twisted themselves through the rafters, and enchanted lanterns bobbed overhead, casting bursts of shifting color across the crowd. The air smelled faintly of butterbeer and something sugary that sparkled as it fizzed in people’s cups.

Cassie and Lyra exchanged a look. Lyra was grinning ear to ear, while Cassie’s smile was more apprehensive than anything. Lyra started nodding, her eyes glittering with mischief.

“Oh no,” Cassie said quickly. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking we’re going to our dorm, changing, and then coming right back down to this party,” Lyra declared.

“But we have class tomorrow,” Cassie protested, waving her timetable like evidence.

“Have you ever been to a party like this?” Lyra asked, crossing her arms.

“I’ve never been to a party at all, but—”

“All the more reason,” Lyra cut in. “We’re going.” She grabbed Cassie’s hand before she could argue further.

“This is a bad idea!” Cassie called over the pounding music as Lyra pulled her toward the staircase.

“The best ideas are,” Lyra shot back with a grin.

Up in their dorm, Lyra wasted no time flipping open Cassie’s trunk and rummaging through it like it was her own. She pulled out a green tank top.

“Lyra—” Cassie started, trying to grab it back.

“Nope, no arguments,” Lyra said firmly. “You’re not going to that party looking like a grandpa.”

Cassie glanced down at her sweater. “It’s Remus’.”

“And you can wear it anytime,” Lyra countered, holding up the tank top, “but tonight you’re wearing this.”

Cassie sighed, snatched it from her, and tugged it on reluctantly.

Lyra beamed, giving her an approving once-over. “See? You look cute.”

“I feel naked,” Cassie complained.

“Well, you’re not, drama queen,” Lyra shot back.

Cassie sighed again, pulling her wand from the trunk and twisting it into her hair.

Lyra’s eyes lit up. “That is smart and fashionable.”

“Never go anywhere without it,” Cassie said. “Even when Remus took me to London, it was tucked away, hidden, but there if I needed it.”

“Oh… yeah… me too,” Lyra said quickly, then cleared her throat. “Ready to go down?”

“If I have to,” Cassie muttered.

“You do,” Lyra said with a grin.

The girls descended the spiral staircase, the thump of music growing louder with every step. When they stepped into the common room, it was clear the party hadn’t slowed down one bit since they’d first walked in. If anything, it had gotten wilder.

The minute they stepped foot in the common room, Lyra was gone, already off on her own adventure. Cassie didn’t necessarily mind—though, Lyra had been the one to drag her down there—but now the couches in the corner seemed to be calling her name.

Sighing, she walked over and flopped down onto the cushions. Surprisingly, they were empty for a party, and Cassie was grateful for the space. The only thing that could make it better would be a book.

She had kind of zoned out, staring at a plant, when someone plopped down next to her, holding a cup in her line of sight. Startled, she looked up and found a familiar face—one of the boys from the train. She raised an eyebrow quizzically, though her expression wasn’t exactly friendly. Her mind flashed back to earlier that day, when she’d nearly had her head blown off.

“No firework this time,” he teased, a grin tugging at his lips. “Sorry again—my brother’s an idiot.”

Cassie rolled her eyes, thinking back to that mischievous, unapologetic grin she wanted to slap off his face—

“Remind me of your name,” George said, ripping her from her thoughts.

“Cassie.”

“George,” he replied. “It’s nice to formally meet you.”

Cassie smiled genuinely. “Nice to meet you too.” Her eyes flicked to the cup he was still holding in front of her. “Oh, I’m sorry—I don’t drink.”

“Figured,” George said. “It’s just pumpkin juice.”

“That obvious, huh?” Cassie asked.

“From your reaction to my brother accidentally shooting a firework at you, I wouldn’t pin you for someone who enjoys alcohol,” George said.

Cassie shook her head, laughing. “You’d be right.” She took a sip of pumpkin juice and asked, “So… who threw this party, anyway?”

“Fred and I,” George said.

“You know, I’m almost shocked—but no, I’m not,” Cassie replied with a grin.

“Yeah,” George said, leaning back on the couch. “Started in our second year, and it just kind of became a tradition.”

“And you’ve never gotten caught?” Cassie asked.

George shook his head. “Nope. Shocker, I know.”

“I’d say luck,” Cassie said, smirking.

Suddenly, a voice cut through the music. “George! Who are you flirting with?”

Both girls looked over to see George’s twin grinning at them.

George rolled his eyes, leaning back with a lazy smirk. “I’m not—”

Fred’s gaze swung to Cassie, and his grin widened into full recognition. “Well, well, well… look who it is!”

Cassie shut her eyes. “Oh, great,” she muttered under her breath.

“No need to be that way,” Fred said, making his way over to Cassie’s side of the couch and leaning on the armrest.

George snorted beside her. “Fred, leave her alone.”

Fred’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Oh, sure. But first, I think we need a proper introduction.” He winked at Cassie, making her jaw tighten.

“Oh, trying to be cute, are we?” Cassie shot back.

“Cute? Hear that, Georgie? She thinks I’m cute!” Fred said, voice full of playful triumph.

Cassie clenched her fists, nearly crushing the plastic cup in her hand.

“Cass!” Lyra called, dancing her way over to them.

“Glad to see you’re having fun,” Cassie said, her tone half-teasing, half-exasperated.

“I am,” Lyra said, her eyes flicking to the cup. “Cassie Lark! Is that a drink in your hand?”

“Pumpkin juice,” Cassie said quickly, holding it up as proof.

George cleared his throat beside her, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, sorry,” Cassie said, turning to them. “Lyra, these are Fred and George.” She gestured to the twins. “Twins, this is Lyra Thorne.”

Cassie’s eyes flicked between Lyra and George, and she couldn’t help but notice the way they locked gazes for a brief moment. Lyra’s grin softened, just a fraction, and George’s usual mischievous smirk seemed a little warmer, almost… genuine.

Cassie blinked. Uh-huh. Perfect. Sparks flying while I get to sit here and watch.

“What, jealous, Lark?” Fred asked, leaning closer with that infuriating grin.

“Shut up,” Cassie snapped, not even looking at him. “Just… shut up.” She sank deeper into the couch, shutting her eyes against the noise and chaos around her.

This was either going to be the best… or the worst year at Hogwarts.

---

4. Cassie Lark and the Pestering Gnat

After the party, Cassie trudged up the stairs, thankful she’d stuck to pumpkin juice. When the sun slipped through the curtains the next morning, her eyes stung from lack of sleep. She wasn’t even sure what time she’d made it back to her dorm. Apparently she’d forgotten to close the drapes, but the morning light had done its job—she was awake.

Rolling over, she checked the clock—just past six. Early, but she didn’t mind. Better to be early than behind. He eyes drifted to Lyras bed across the room. Empty. Cassie wasn’t concerned. After Lyra and George had met, they were inseparable all night. Meanwhile Fred had pestered Cassie until she finally left. Merlin, he was a nuisance.

She only hoped Lyra was still in the common room. She didn’t bother changing out of her pajamas. She shoved off her duvet, sliding her feet into slippers and padded back down to the common room. To her surprise, the place was spotless—perks of magic I guess.

Cassie’s eyes swept the room, and—no surprise—there was Lyra, curled up on the couch with a blanket tucked over her shoulders. Across from her, George had blacked out in an armchair, limbs folded at odd angles as if the chair had swallowed him whole. Cassie smirked to herself; he’d definitely be paying for that position later.

A sleepy smile tugged at her lips as Cassie padded over and crouched beside Lyra.

“Lyr,” she whispered, giving her shoulder a gentle shake. “Lyra.”

Lyra’s eyes cracked open, unfocused at first, like her brain was still trying to catch up.
“Cassie… hi,” she mumbled groggily. “Mm, what time is it?” She rubbed at her eyes.

“Just past six. Breakfast isn’t for an hour—you’ve got time.”

Lyra only nodded, dragging herself upright. “Think I’m gonna shower,” she muttered.

Cassie chuckled softly. “Good plan. You definitely smell like a party.”

Lyra gave her a look that was more squint than glare, then turned for the stairs. “My head hurts,” she grumbled, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders as she disappeared up toward the dorms.

Cassie waited until her footsteps faded before turning her attention to freckle-face. George was still slumped awkwardly in the armchair, dead to the world. He might’ve been the nicer twin, but she had a few questions for him, and frankly, his sleeping habits weren’t important to her.

“George,” she called flatly.

His eyes snapped open instantly, body jerking upright as if he’d been jolted by a curse. Wand half-drawn, he blinked around wildly before landing on Cassie.

“Merlin’s beard—” he exhaled, sagging back into the chair. “You trying to give me a heart attack, Lark?”

Cassie raised an unimpressed brow. “I said your name. Not exactly a battle cry.”

“Right, I’m up,” he said, throwing his hands in the air. “Whatcha want?”

“Lyra—she okay last night?” Cassie asked, gesturing to the empty couch.

George grinned, a little fondly. “Yeah, we talked until the common room emptied out. Then she crashed. Totally fine.”

“And she had fun, right?” Cassie added with a smirk, already knowing the answer.

George’s grin softened, a hint of something almost shy in his expression. “Yeah… she laughed a lot. I think she liked it. More than I probably did.”

His ears were tinged pink, and as much as Cassie wanted to comment, she swallowed it, content knowing Lyra had been taken care of.

“You put the blanket on her?” Cassie asked.

George nodded. “Yeah. It gets cold up here, even with the fire.”

Cassie nodded in response.

“Were you worried?” George asked.

“No, I was actually too tired to think about it last night,” she chuckled.

She wasn’t worried, not really. But a small, protective tug lingered in her chest—Lyra had been the first person Cassie had truly connected with at Hogwarts, after expecting to be alone.

“She was safe, Cassie,” George said.

“I believe you,” she teased, then softened, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, cracking his neck with a hiss. “Bloody Merlin’s beard… never sleeping in that chair like that again.” He pushed himself upright.

Cassie shook her head, chuckling quietly.

“See you two at breakfast then?” he asked, already heading for the stairs.

“Will your brother be there?” she asked with a grumble.

“I have, like, a million siblings—they’ll all be there. But yes, to your dismay, Fred will be there,” George said.

Cassie groaned, hunching over and letting her arms drop as she trudged toward the stairs.

When she pushed open the door to their room, the curtains were drawn, and Lyra was tucked into bed, fast asleep. Cassie sighed, stepping in and shutting the door behind her.

“Lyraaa,” Cassie sang to the melody of Maria from West Side Story, an American film Remus had shown her (she wasn’t sure why). She liked the music—it often got stuck in her head—and she much preferred it to Romeo and Juliet. “Lyra, Lyra,” she continued.

Lyra flopped a hand over her face. “What?” she croaked.

“Do you want to eat breakfast or not?” Cassie asked, crossing her arms.

It was like Cassie had spoken the magic words. Lyra’s ears visibly perked up at the thought of Hogwarts’ delicious food. She sat up like a zombie emerging from a coffin. “Food?”

“Yes, food! And what happened to showering?” Cassie asked, tilting her head.

“Yeah yeah, mum,” Lyra said flatly, shuffling toward the bathroom.

Cassie smiled smugly and turned to her trunk. It was already a mess after she’d tiredly dug through it for pajamas the night before—shirts and trousers spilling out the sides. She had insisted on bringing far too much, so there was an extension charm on it; a near bottomless pit of her belongings. Sighing, she opened the wardrobe in front of her to start putting things away.

Two sets of Gryffindor uniforms and robes hung neatly in the center. That explained why robes hadn’t been on their supply list. On either side were cubbies of varying sizes for their clothes, with a shelf above perfectly fitted for their trunks. Below were two drawers, already filled with winter accessories—scarves, mittens, beanies, and more.

The shower shut off, followed by Lyra’s voice. “Hey, Cass, you think you can bring me clothes?”

The shower shut off, followed by Lyra’s voice. “Hey, Cass, you think you can bring me clothes?”

“I actually just found our robes,” Cassie called back. “Give me two seconds.”

Collecting what Lyra would need, Cassie knocked twice. The door cracked open and steam curled into the dorm, warm air brushing her face. She chuckled.

Lyra, wrapped in a towel, dried her hands on it quickly before taking the clothes. “Thank you!” she said brightly.

Cassie nodded with a small smile, turning back toward the trunk. The sight of it made her sigh again. “I’ll do it later,” she muttered, moving to grab her own uniform from the wardrobe.

Moments later, Lyra emerged in full Gryffindor getup. She twirled once. “How do I look?”

“Oh, magnificent,” Cassie said—teasing, but genuine.

Lyra’s eyes flicked to the robes in Cassie’s hands. “Your turn. Go.” She was already shoving Cassie toward the bathroom.

“Alright, alright,” Cassie chuckled, batting her away and closing the door behind her. Both girls were buzzing with excitement for their first real day at Hogwarts, but Lyra practically radiated it.

When Cassie came out, adjusting her tie, Lyra was sitting cross-legged on her bed, twisting her hair around her wand.

“What are you doing?” Cassie asked, brow raised.

“Fixing my hair. This is way easier than using my fingers.”

Cassie tilted her head, impressed despite herself. “That is… very practical.”

Lyra grinned. “Kind of stole the idea from you, actually. You used your wand to tie your hair back last night.”

“Keeps it out of my face,” Cassie shrugged.

“Exactly. And you’ll have to show me how to do that. But the wand’s the perfect size for stubborn curls.”

Cassie smirked, twisting her wand into her own hair. “Great minds think alike. All ready, then?”

“Definitely.”

They collected their things—timetables most important—and headed down toward the Great Hall. Cassie kept hers in hand, trying to commit the schedule to memory. It wasn’t the classes she worried about, it was finding them in a castle this size. Hopefully she’d make it through the day without embarrassing herself too much.

Lyra, meanwhile, was staring at everything with wide-eyed awe. She’d been too caught up in the Sorting and getting to their dorm the night before to really look. Now, the castle’s endless bits of magic had her gawking like a first-year tourist.

“Lyra,” Cassie said, pulling her back. “What classes do you have today?”

“Potions and Tranfiguration before lunch, care of Magical Creatures and Charms after. You?”

“Ancient Runes, free period, Herbology, then History of Magic. Haven’t decided if I want to see Pomfrey during my free period or after—I kind of want to check in on Remus.”

“I’d love to actually meet him at some point,” Lyra said. “You speak so highly of him.”

“It’s Remus. He’s the best.” Cassie smirked. “And now he’s Professor Lupin.”

There was a beat before she snorted. “No way in hell am I ever calling him ‘Professor Lupin.’”

“Wouldn’t that be disrespecting a teacher?” Lyra teased, her eyes glinting.

Cassie smirked wider. “I call him ‘old man’ at home. Besides, if Remus ever tried giving me detention—which I highly doubt he would—he’d never hear the end of it.”

Lyra burst out laughing, which only made Cassie laugh too.

“You’re a menace,” Lyra said, shaking her head.

Cassie nudged her shoulder. “Shut up.”

Passing the threshold into the Great Hall, still giggling, they were hit with the smell of breakfast—warm bread, sizzling bacon, and roasted tomatoes invading their nostrils in the best possible way.

At the Gryffindor table, chaos was already in full swing. Fred and George were flicking bits of toast back and forth with their wands like it was a professional sport, laughing as if the concept of rules didn’t exist.

Lyra’s eyes lingered on George—just for a second—but Cassie caught it. Her lips tilted into the kind of smile that gave her away immediately.

Cassie narrowed her eyes, smirking. “I saw that.”

Lyra blinked, wide-eyed. “Saw what?”

“That look. Don’t play dumb, Thorne.” Cassie arched a brow. “I saw you two frolicking off at the party last night, leaving me all alone.” She put on a mock pout. “And now this. You’ve got a little thing for him, don’t you?”

Lyra flushed, eyes darting down to cobbled floor. “I don’t know. Maybe? It’s too soon to tell.”

Cassie leaned in, smug as ever. “Uh-huh. ‘Too soon.’ Yeah, right. Forgive me if I don’t exactly buy that.”

Lyra only shrugged, but a smile tugged at her lips. “Guess we’ll have to see.”

From the table, George spotted them and waved them over.

Cassie groaned under her breath, rolling her eyes at both her friend and the cruel twist of fate she already knew was coming: Lyra would beeline for George, and Cassie would end up exactly where she least wanted to be—planted next to Fred.

“Good morning, Larkie,” he said as she slipped onto the bench beside him.

“It was good,” she grumbled, already regretting sitting down.

Across from her, Lyra had nestled comfortably next to George, and the two were chatting away like they’d been friends for years.

“Sleep well?” George asked, voice soft.

Lyra nodded, ears tinged pink. “That couch is more comfortable than I thought.”

“So, Larkie,” Fred broke in, leaning far too close. “What’d you think of the party?”

Cassie winced at the nickname. “It was… fine, I guess.”

“Fine?” Fred gasped in mock scandal, clutching his chest. “Georgie, sounds like we’ve got to up our party game.”

“Huh?” George blinked, dragged from his conversation with Lyra. “What?” He glanced at his brother in confusion, then immediately turned back to Lyra without waiting for an explanation.

The corner of Cassie’s mouth betrayed her, quirking up.

“Ah, so she does smile,” Fred crowed triumphantly.

Her smile dropped instantly as she turned her head, glaring at him in silence.

Fred only gave a smug shrug and turned back to his plate, utterly pleased with himself. Cassie rolled her eyes and finally gave in to the heavenly smell of breakfast wafting through the Hall—she was hungrier than she thought.

She picked up her fork, stabbing two pieces of French toast and sliding them onto her plate before filling her glass with orange juice.

“Careful, Larkie,” Fred drawled, plucking a napkin and dropping it neatly into her lap. “Wouldn’t want you to stain those perfectly pressed robes.”

Cassie arched a brow. “Right, thanks, Mum. Got a bib in that pocket of yours too?”

He grinned. “Don’t tempt me. I could charm one up.”

Cassie muttered something under her breath about how he probably needed one more than she did, cutting into her French toast with more force than necessary.

Across the table, George leaned toward Lyra, his expression softening. “So, first impressions of Hogwarts?”

Lyra’s eyes lit up. “Even better than I imagined. I feel like I could spend days just wandering the castle. Have you ever gotten lost?”

George chuckled. “Only about a hundred times. But getting lost is half the fun.”

Cassie glanced up at the sound of Lyra’s laugh, catching the way George’s gaze lingered on her friend a little too long.

“So,” he said with mock seriousness, “what do you think of the breakfast, Larkie? Or is French toast only ‘fine, I guess,’ too?”

Cassie narrowed her eyes, her fork clinking against her plate. “Careful, Weasley. I might decide this fork works just as well on you.”

“No need to be violent,” he teased, leaning just a little closer. His voice dropped into something conspiratorial. “Those two are already getting along so well, aren’t they?”

“Yep.” Cassie said flatly, scooping eggs onto her plate.

“I mean, they were practically attached at the hip all last night,” Fred went on. “Barely even saw my own twin—the closest I got was a look in the mirror.”

Cassie turned her head, startled to find him much closer than she expected. Her brows arched. “Do you need something, or do you just plan on jabbering my ear off?”

Fred only grinned wider at her sharp tone, clearly delighted. “Jabbering, mostly. It’s one of my many talents. Some say it’s charming.”

“Oh, is that how you get the girls?” she asked, taking a sip of orange juice. “They think it’s cute, don’t they? ‘So charming,’” she mocked, clasping her hands together in an exaggerated swoon.

“Ouch.” He clutched his chest theatrically. “Right to the heart. You wound me, Larkie.”

“Good. Maybe you’ll shut up for five minutes.”

“Not likely,” he said easily, leaning back just enough to swipe another piece of toast. He took a slow, exaggerated bite, never breaking eye contact. “Face it—you’d miss me if I stopped talking.”

Cassie shot him a glare that could curdle milk, but Fred only smirked wider.

Across the table, Lyra laughed at something George said, their conversation animated and easy. Fred tilted his head toward them, mischief dancing in his eyes. “See? They’ve already got their little thing. Guess that just leaves us, doesn’t it?”

Cassie grimaced. “Merlin forbid.”

Before Fred could push her buttons further, her eye caught the trio entering the Great Hall—Ron, Harry, and Hermione. They were focused on a boy at the Slytherin table, who seemed to be putting on an impressively dramatic reenactment of the train ride, complete with an exaggerated swoon and high-pitched squeals.

“Morning, George,” Harry greeted flatly as he slid onto the bench on George’s other side. George grinned, shifting just enough to make space, and Lyra’s smile brightened instinctively.

Ron dropped down beside Fred with a muttered, “Starving,” already piling eggs and bacon onto his plate.

And then Hermione appeared, sliding into the empty seat next to Cassie. Relief bloomed in Cassie’s chest at the unexpected rescue.

“Morning,” Hermione said warmly, already reaching for the jug of pumpkin juice.

“Morning,” Cassie echoed with a grateful nod, sparing Fred one last withering look across Hermione’s head.

Fred only smirked knowingly, clearly enjoying that her reprieve was temporary at best.

“Third-year timetables,” George said, passing them along. He noticed the annoyed look on Harry’s face. He glanced at the Slytherin table, then back. “Malfoy’s a git, Harry. Don’t let him bother you.”

Hermione, who had been quiet the whole time was focused on her schedule

“Yeah, Harry,” Fred added. “He wasn’t so bold last night when the Dementors came down our end of the train.”

George chuckled. “Came running straight into our compartment, didn’t he, Fred?”

“Nearly wet himself at the sight,” Fred said, grinning.

“It does put things in perspective,” George said. “I mean, Dementors suck the life out of everything.”

“Our compartment was bloody freezing,” Fred said.

“Ours too,” Cassie added, glancing at Harry.

“Yeah, but you lot didn’t pass out, did you?” Harry snapped, his voice low.

“Forget about it, Harry,” Cassie replied.

“Yeah, mate,” George assured him, “had Malfoy come face-to-face with a Dementor, he’d have fainted too.”

“Word travels fast here,” Lyra said, wide-eyed.

“Indeed it does,” George confirmed.

“How do you two know so much about Dementors?” Ron asked confused.

“Dad went to Azkaban with the Ministry and told us about them, remember, Fred?” George said.

“He said it was cold and gray… and that he saw prisoners who had gone mad in there.”

“You reckon Black went mad?” Ron asked, brow furrowed.

“Black was already mad,” Harry said quietly. “He’s the reason my parents are gone.”

Cassie’s eye twitched at the reminder.

“All this to say, Harry,” George said with a grin, “the first Quidditch match is Gryffindor versus Slytherin. Let’s see how happy Malfoy is after that one.”

During the conversation, Hermione had been quietly scanning her timetable.

“Oh, we’re starting new subjects today. Good,” she said happily.

Cassie leaned over just as Ron got up and came around the back to look over Hermione’s shoulder.

“Uh, Hermione…” he frowned after scanning her schedule, pointing at the parchment. “I think they messed up your schedule. They’ve got you down for ten subjects a day—there isn’t enough time in the day for that.”

“Don’t worry, Ron,” Hermione said briskly. “I’ll manage. I’ve already spoken with McGonagall.”

“Hang on, that’s not possible.” Ron jabbed at the parchment again. “Ancient Runes is at the same time as Divination. You’d have to be in two classes at once.”

“Don’t be silly, Ronald. How could anyone be in two classes at once?” she said, making the table laugh.

“I’m just saying, maybe check that out one more time,” Ron muttered.

“I just have a full schedule, Ron. I’ll survive. As I said, I spoke with McGonagall.”

Just then, the huge man Dumbledore had introduced last night—Hagrid—entered the Great Hall. He wore a moleskin overcoat, with a dead rodent dangling from one hand and more strung around his neck like grotesque accessories.

Cassie grimaced.

“All righ’?” Hagrid asked cheerily, stopping at their table, his country twang thick. He beamed at the trio. “Yer in my firs’ ever lesson after lunch! Bin up since five gettin’ everythin’ ready. Can’t believe I’m a teacher!” He grinned broadly, then lumbered off toward the staff table, still swinging the rodent.

“What do you think he’s been getting ready?” Ron asked anxiously.

“I’m not sure,” Harry said, “but we’d better go. Divination’s at the top of North Tower—it’ll take at least ten minutes to get there.”

The boys stood and started off, leaving Cassie to turn to Hermione.

“So, you’ve got Ancient Runes this morning?” Cassie asked.

“Yes! Do you?” Hermione’s eyes lit up.

Cassie nodded. “Shall we go then, Miss Granger?”

“We shall, Miss…”

“Lark,” Fred cut in helpfully.

“Sod off, Weasley,” Cassie said, rolling her eyes. She stood and grabbed Hermione’s wrist. “We’re going. Bye, Lyra. Bye, George.”

Both offered their goodbyes.

“See you later, Larkie!” Fred called after her.

“Hopefully won’t!” she shot back over her shoulder.

“So you’re still bickering?” Hermione asked as they left the Great Hall.

“He hasn’t stopped bothering me since yesterday,” Cassie said, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“He’s incessant,” Hermione agreed. “They both are.”

“George is actually rather nice to me. I like him more. Plus, I think he might have a little thing for my dorm mate.”

“That the girl sitting next to him?” Hermione asked. “I meant to introduce myself—say hello.”

“I’ll introduce you two later if you'd like,” Cassie promised.

“Thank you,” Hermione said warmly.

The two girls climbed their way up the stairs to the sixth floor, heading for Professor Babbling’s classroom. Hermione took the lead, clearly knowing the castle better than Cassie did.

“I wish I could have a guide all day,” Cassie muttered. “It’s so much easier than pulling out my timetable every five minutes.”

Hermione laughed. “I know. Before I even got here, I read the entirety of Hogwarts: A History. That helped a bit—but still, it wasn’t easy finding my way around this labyrinth of a school.”

“I read parts of Hogwarts: A History but never finished,” Cassie admitted. “Are your parents wizards?”

“No, they’re Muggles—dentists, actually. But they support me, and I’m grateful for that.” Hermione smiled, though she flushed slightly. “And Professor Lupin supports you, I assume?”

“Yeah, Moo—Remus is the best,” Cassie said quickly, correcting herself and hoping Hermione hadn’t caught the slip. “He’s supported me for years, and I’ve supported him in turn.”

Hermione tilted her head, curious. “And your parents? Are they magical as well?”

Cassie hesitated, her gaze dropping to the stone steps beneath their feet. “They were. Both healers. They passed when I was young, and Remus—being my godfather, like I told you on the train—he took me in.”

Hermione’s face fell. “Oh, Cassie, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up anything you wouldn’t want to—”

“It’s alright, Hermione. Really.” Cassie offered a small, steady smile. “I’m okay."

Hermione nodded in understanding, but her mind was already churning. “Healers, you said?”

Cassie nodded. “Yeah. Remus tells me they were brilliant. One day I hope I could get to even half of what they were.”

“Ah, so you want to be a Healer too?” Hermione asked, her eyes lighting with interest.

Cassie nodded again, a little more firmly this time. “Ever since I heard what my parents did for people… helping, healing—it just feels right. Like carrying them with me.”

Hermione smiled softly. “That’s wonderful, Cassie.”

“Thanks.” Cassie smiled sheepishly. “This is one of the classes I’ve read will help. Runes are a huge part of Healing,” she added as they reached the door.

“Oh, are they?” Hermione tilted her head. “I was curious about all the electives, so…I might have selected all of them.”

Cassie leaned against the stone wall just outside the classroom, brow furrowing. “Yeah, I noticed when I saw your timetable at breakfast. How—” She trailed off, giving Hermione a look.

Hermione glanced around quickly, then leaned in. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Cassie leaned in too, eyes gleaming. “Tell me.”

Hermione tugged something from beneath her collar—a delicate gold chain with a strange pendant. In its center was a tiny hourglass, framed by gold and circled with two delicate rings. “This is called a Time-Turner,” she whispered.

Cassie blinked. “What is it, some sort of time travel device?” she asked dryly.

“Exactly that.”

Cassie’s eyes widened, then she grinned. “Oh, wow. I am just a genius.”

Hermione tried not to laugh. “It’s how I can get to all those classes. Professor McGonagall gave it to me early this morning.”

Cassie shook her head with a smirk. “Hermione, you little sneak, you.”

Hermione shrugged, flashing a coy smile, then suddenly jabbed a finger beneath Cassie’s nose. “You tell nobody about this.”

Cassie raised both hands in surrender. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Good.” Hermione dropped her hand, though her eyes still glinted with warning.

Cassie chuckled. “You’re scary, ’Mione.”

“It’s how I get those boys to listen to me,” Hermione said primly. She nodded toward the door. “Now, I’m sure Professor Babbling is itching to start class.”

The girls took their seats as a few stragglers filtered into the room. When the classroom at last fell still and the last parchment was unrolled, Professor Babbling stood at the front.

“Good morning, students, and welcome to Ancient Runes,” she announced, her voice bright and businesslike.

The lesson began, the scrape of quills as students took notes filling the air.

By the time they were dismissed, Cassie had already finished half of the assignment and felt rather accomplished.

“I really liked that class,” Hermione said as they gathered their things.

“Professor Babbling is so knowledgeable,” Cassie gushed. “She’s like a total genius.”

Hermione smiled in agreement. “And the way she explains the etymology of the runes—it’s fascinating. I’m glad I chose this subject.”

“I’m glad too,” Cassie said as they walked together into the corridor, books clutched to their chests. “If every class feels like that, I might actually survive this year.”

They laughed softly, their voices echoing against the stone walls as they walked toward the staircases.

“I’m going up,” Cassie said, shifting her books in her arms. “I’m going to visit Remus, see how he’s doing.”

“That’s sweet,” Hermione said with a smile. “I’m off to my next two classes.” She gave a little laugh, shaking her head. “Hopefully I can keep up.”

“You’ll manage,” Cassie teased. “You’ve got time on your side, after all.”

Hermione rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her grin. “See you at lunch?”

“Definitely—you’re my saving grace against Fred.” Cassie waved as they split off at the stairs, each heading their separate ways.

Cassie found Defence Against the Dark Arts easily enough, her timetable pointing her to the seventh floor.

Pushing open the door, she stepped into a room half-buried in stacks of boxes and bare bookshelves. Remus stood with his back to her, arms folded as though he were surveying the chaos. He hadn’t heard her enter. With a soft click, she shut the door behind her.

“Hey, Moony!” Cassie called brightly.

Remus turned, a tired look on his face, though his arms relaxed when he saw her. “Thank Merlin you’re here. I wasn’t sure I’d manage all this on my own.”

“So basically you’re using me as your personal slave,” Cassie teased.

“That’s why I agreed to be your godfather,” Remus replied dryly.

“Ouch, Moons.” Cassie clutched her chest in mock offence. “Love you too.”

Remus chuckled as Cassie eyed the empty bookshelves.

“How’s your morning been?” she asked, slipping off her cloak and hanging it neatly on the coat hanger by the door.

“Good. Filch dropped these off earlier,” Remus said, nodding to the stack of boxes. “McGonagall’s given me today to get everything in order. Classes start for me tomorrow.”

“That’s nice,” Cassie said.

Remus raised an eyebrow at her. “Shouldn’t you be in class, young lady?”

“This is my class, old man,” she retorted, already crouching beside a stack of books. “I’ve got a free period.”

“Oh, do you now?” Remus said, amused.

Cassie nodded. “Meaning I’ll be hanging out in here every Thursday from 10:15 to 11:45.” She’d already begun sorting through the pile, separating textbooks from novels and shelving them with ease.

“Not being a distraction, of course,” Remus remarked.

“Of course not,” Cassie said sweetly, plucking a book from the stack and setting it aside for herself.

Behind her, Remus dug into a box and pulled out their home record player. Carrying it over to the table by the window, he set it down and began fiddling with the knobs.

Cassie glanced over, a smile spreading across her face. “You brought it?”

“Of course I brought it,” Remus said without looking up. “I’m barely surviving on my own—music might be the only thing keeping me going.”

“Strike two, Moony,” Cassie warned, holding up two fingers.

“Only joking,” he said quickly, a faint grin tugging at his mouth.

Cassie rolled her eyes and went back to sorting. After about half an hour of steady organising, she had her own neat stack set aside. Straightening with a soft groan, she stretched until her hips popped in a satisfying way, then gathered the books in her arms.

Crossing to the coat rack by the door, she set them carefully on the floor next to her cloak so she wouldn’t forget them when she left.

“Your own personal library now, am I?” Remus asked, nodding toward the stack she’d made.

Cassie only shrugged as she wandered over to him. “Just using my resources.”

“We do have a rather large library here, Cass,” Remus pointed out, pulling a bundle of oddly shaped candles from the box—each one carved to look like a human spine.

Cassie eyed them warily as he set them down. “Right, but I doubt the library has the sort of things I’d actually want to read for leisure. I’ll save the old tomes and textbooks for study.”

“Fair enough,” Remus chuckled.

Cassie’s eyes roamed the half-unpacked room. “Is Madame Pomfrey the school’s matron?” Cassie asked, recalling her conversation with McGonagall.

Remus’s eyes went wide for a moment, though Cassie didn’t notice as she explored. “Y-yes, she is.”

“I asked McGonagall last night after the Sorting—”

Remus interrupted, a grin tugging at his lips. “I completely forgot to say something—congratulations on Gryffindor.”

Cassie whipped around to look at him. “I didn’t tell you—how—?”

Remus pointed at her tie.

Cassie nodded, then continued, turning back to look around the room. “So after the Sorting, I was asking Professor McGonagall about any healing courses. She said there aren’t any specifically, but that I should speak with Madame Pomfrey about it. That’s my plan for when I finish classes today.”

Remus was quiet, which made Cassie turn toward him, a line forming between her brows. His expression carried a faint, almost sad smile.

“What?” Cassie asked, concerned.

Remus sighed. “I guess I never told you about Poppy, did I?”

“Poppy? That a girl you dated or something?” Cassie asked, eyebrow raised.

Remus laughed. “No. Poppy Pomfrey. For seven years, she escorted me to the Shrieking Shack once a month, made sure I was safe, even arranged a spot in the hospital wing for me after the full moon if I needed it… all while genuinely caring for me. Closest I had to a mother while mine was in the hospital.”

Cassie smiled softly, both teasing and sincere. “So that’s how you survived Hogwarts all those years without accidentally killing anyone.”

“Yes, that is how I did that,” Remus said flatly. “Merlin,” he rubbed his face, “haven’t seen her in years. I should pay her a visit, let her know I’m alive.”

“Come with me then,” Cassie said. “I’m sure she’d be happy to see you. Plus, I might score some brownie points if she knows I’m your goddaughter who’s been patching you up for years.”

“You’re such a little schemer,” Remus said, shaking his head with a low chuckle.

“The offer still stands,” Cassie replied, a small grin tugging at her lips.

“Alright,” Remus said. “Meet you at the hospital wing after classes.”

Cassie clapped her hands gleefully. “See you after classes, then.” She pivoted back toward the coat hanger, slinging her cloak over her shoulder and scooping up the stack of books. “See you later, Moons. You’re welcome for the help.”

Remus chuckled. “See you later, Cass. And thanks for the help.”

With that, the door clicked shut behind her. The Gryffindor common room wasn’t far from the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, both tucked away on the seventh floor. After trying not to lose her temper with the Fat Lady’s portrait, she was finally admitted inside. She hurried upstairs, dropped the books on her bed, and threw her cloak back on before heading straight back out. Not before grabbing The Count of Monte Cristo from her bed and shoving it into her bag.

When Cassie slipped into the Great Hall and started toward the Gryffindor table, she barely registered Lyra barreling toward her until she was suddenly wrapped up in a hug.

“It’s been ages since I saw you!” Lyra exclaimed, clinging tight.

“Two classes,” Cassie laughed, still making her way to the table with Lyra hanging off her.

“Don’t push my love away,” Lyra whined, though she was laughing too.

At the Gryffindor table, the twins were already waiting. George sat with his arms crossed, leaning back on the bench, while Fred rested his chin in his hand, a self-satisfied smirk painted across his face.

Cassie narrowed her eyes at him as she once again slid onto the bench beside him, letting Lyra plop down next to George.

“How’s your morning been, larkie?” Fred asked smoothly.

“Fine,” Cassie replied lightly, scooping shepherd’s pie onto her plate. She immediately cut into it and popped a bite into her mouth, hoping the food would act as a barrier against further conversation.

She was gravely mistaken.

“I bet your classes this morning were so boring without me,” Fred said, swinging his legs over the bench, arms crossed as he leaned back against the table.

“Actually, I thought about how nice it was not to have you in my classes,” Cassie said, not looking up from her plate.

“Hear that, Georgie? She thinks about me.” Fred’s grin widened.

“You’re going to get yourself punched,” George said in a sing-song voice, earning a quiet giggle from Lyra.

“I think about how to avoid you,” Cassie shot back.

Fred leaned in, all mock seriousness. “Still counts.”

Cassie finally glanced at him, unimpressed. “You’re like a gnat in the summer.”

George snickered into his goblet.

“You’re quick, Larkie,” Fred said, his smirk softening for a fraction before snapping back to teasing as he flicked a green pea onto her plate.

“How much longer of lunch?” Cassie groaned, burying her face in her hands.

Lyra sucked in air through her teeth like it physically hurt. “It’s been ten minutes…”

Cassie groaned again, earning another round of laughter from the table.

“Come on, Thorne, you’re supposed to be on my side!” Cassie complained, shooting a look at her friend across from her.

Lyra cleared her throat, though the giggles escaping her betrayed her. “Team Cassie, always,” she said, saluting before cracking up.

Cassie snatched up the pea Fred had flicked onto her plate and sent it soaring—landing squarely between Lyra’s eyebrows. “You suck,” she muttered, a grin tugging at her lips.

Fred’s pestering had quieted as he ate his lunch while Lyra and George whispered back and forth, completely absorbed in each other. Cassie pulled her book from her bag, settling into a rare moment of peace. She’d gotten through two short chapters and was just starting the third when she felt Fred’s presence creep up behind her.

“Whatcha readin’?” he murmured, his breath brushing her neck.

Cassie wrinkled her nose, leaning slightly away. “The Count of Monte Cristo.”

“And… what’s it about?” he pressed.

“Well, I’m barely three chapters in,” she said flatly, eyes returning to the page.

“Any good?” Fred persisted, leaning just a little too close.

“Not sure yet,” Cassie replied, a hint of irritation in her voice. “I’m barely three chapters in.”

Fred fell quiet for a moment, letting Cassie dive back into her book. Then, both of them looked up as a burst of laughter cut through the air—Lyra, caught mid-whisper with George, clearly amused by something only the two of them understood.

Again, Fred leaned in. “They just keep getting closer, don’t they?”

Cassie didn’t look up from her book. “Both emotionally and physically,” she muttered.

Fred leaned back slightly, smirking. “I’d bet five Galleons they’re practically inseparable by the time exams roll around.”

Cassie peeked over her book, eyes narrowing at the pair in front of them, completely oblivious to the world. “You’re on,” she said, “By Christmas.”

Fred chuckled, shaking his head. “You’ve got guts, Larkie.”

As if sensing eyes on them, Lyra and George glanced back. Fred quickly looked away, whistling innocently. Cassie pressed her nose deeper into her book, hiding the smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

The second half of Cassie’s day passed quickly. Her first class after lunch was Herbology, which she genuinely enjoyed. Professor Sprout was kind, and she met a lovely boy named Neville, who had a remarkable affinity for plants. He seemed a bit nervous himself, but his presence helped Cassie feel at ease in the classroom.

Next was History of Magic with Professor Binns, who, as it happened, was a ghost. Cassie tried her absolute hardest to stay awake and pay attention, but his monotone voice was incredibly soothing, and, to be honest, she wasn’t particularly interested in goblin rebellions. By the end of class, she was thoroughly tired and tempted to head back to the dorm for a nap, but she reminded herself of her plan to meet Remus and visit Madame Pomfrey.

Making her way from the first floor up to the seventh, she spotted Remus at the end of the corridor—his tall, imposing figure making him seem almost giant-like—and followed him, grateful for the familiar presence guiding her straight to the hospital wing.

"Hey, Remus," Cassie waved as she approached him. "You got here quick."

"My class is on this floor," he reminded her.

"Oh, right," Cassie said with a shrug. "Well… are you ready?"

"No," Remus said flatly, arms crossed.

"Let's go then!" Cassie declared, grabbing his arm and tugging him toward the door.

When she pushed it open, the familiar smell of antiseptic mingled with the soft, herbal scent of lavender, washing over her. The hospital wing was bright and airy, the sunlight spilling through tall windows onto rows of pristine beds, each neatly made with crisp white sheets and small pillows. A few enchanted curtains hung between the beds, ready to provide privacy when needed, and the faint hum of softly glowing lamps added a gentle warmth to the room. Cassie’s eyes wandered over the orderly shelves lined with neatly labelled bottles, tinctures, and bandages, giving the place a quiet, purposeful calm that contrasted with the chaotic energy of Hogwarts’ other corridors.

Remus followed behind, his gaze scanning the room as if measuring it anew. "Both everything and nothing has changed."

"Be right with you!" a voice called from somewhere near the back.

"She sounds exactly the same," Remus murmured.

Cassie smiled, warmth blooming in her chest.

The clack of heels echoed against the polished stone floors, and moments later a woman with a kind face appeared around the corner. Her grey hair was neatly pulled back beneath a cap, its fabric trailing down her back. She wore a deep red cloak-dress with a crisp white apron over it. Her eyes landed on Cassie first, her expression gentle—until they lifted to the tall figure next to her. Her face faltered, not with sadness, but with sheer astonishment.

“R-Remus?” she breathed, her hands creeping toward her mouth.

Remus nodded, holding back a larger smile. “Hi, Poppy,” he said softly.

With the confirmation that it truly was him, Madame Pomfrey strode forward, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck and tug him down into a hug. He folded her into his arms in return, and for a moment, it was as though he’d come home.

“Goodness, how have you been?” she asked, pulling back just enough to plant her hands on either side of his face, turning his head this way and that in a fussing, motherly way.

“I’ve been well,” Remus sighed happily.

“Good, good,” she said, her voice thick with relief.

They stood there a moment, smiling at each other—Remus with his hands shoved into his pockets, and Pomfrey with her eyes glassy, as though one more word might make her cry.

Cassie’s smile widened as she watched them, touched by the tenderness of their reunion. Then Pomfrey’s gaze flicked to her.

“Oh—oh, I’m so sorry, dear,” she said with a sniffle. “What can I do for you?”

Before Cassie could answer, Remus chuckled and stepped up behind her, resting both hands gently on her shoulders.

“Poppy,” he began with quiet pride, “meet Cassie—my goddaughter.”

The way his voice swelled with affection, paired with the look on Pomfrey’s face, was enough to undo her. A couple of tears slipped down her cheeks before she swept Cassie into her arms.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Cassie,” she said warmly as she pulled back, both hands now cupping the girl’s shoulders.

“Lovely to meet you too,” Cassie replied with a soft smile.

Pomfrey dabbed at her eyes but brightened quickly. “Come, come—no need to stand about. Let’s go into my office.” She turned back the way she came.

Cassie hesitated only a moment before Remus gave her a gentle nudge forward. She looked up at him, caught his reassuring smile, and returned it. Then together, they followed Madame Pomfrey toward her office.

As they both settled into the chairs in Madame Pomfrey’s office, two steaming cups of tea floated gracefully to them.

“Sugar?” she asked.

“Two,” they both said at once.

With a knowing little smile, Pomfrey flicked her wand, dropping two cubes into each cup before passing them over. Taking her own seat, she studied Cassie with a furrowed brow. Cassie held her breath under the weight of her gaze.

“You look so very familiar,” Pomfrey murmured at last. “Though I know I’ve never seen you before—I remember every student who’s come through this hospital wing.” Her eyes lingered, Cassie noticed, on the wand pinned through her hair.

Cassie flicked a glance at Remus, who met her look steadily.

“There’s a good chance you knew my parents,” Cassie said carefully. “Elodie Evans and Nicholas Lark.”

Pomfrey’s eyes widened, her hand lifting to her mouth before a smile bloomed. “I should have known. Those eyes are your father’s… and the way you tie your hair like that—that’s Elodie, through and through.”

Cassie’s lips curved faintly, but before she could reply, Remus leaned forward, voice quiet but full of pride.

“That’s not the only way she’s like her parents,” he said.

Cassie turned to him, brow arched.

“This young lady,” Remus continued, “is the reason I haven’t completely fallen apart each month. She’s a healer—just like her mum and dad.”

Cassie flushed but forced herself to meet Pomfrey’s gaze. “Which is why I’m here, ma’am. I asked Professor McGonagall about healing courses, but she told me there weren’t any. She did say, though, that I should speak with you.”

Pomfrey’s face softened into a smile. “Yes, Minerva did mention you might be coming by. I just didn’t expect such wonderful surprises all at once.” She folded her hands. “So—what is it you’d like from me, dear?”

“I was wondering if I could work here… with you. Like training.” Cassie hesitated, glancing down at her teacup before continuing. “I know how much you did for Remus—sorry, Remus—and I’ve been looking after him for years now. I just want to get better at it.”

“You’re the first person since your mum to ask me that,” Pomfrey said softly. “Of course I’ll help you.”

Cassie’s face lit up, and Remus gave a small, contented sigh.

“And like you said, Mr. Lupin was a bit of a handful in his school days,” Pomfrey added wryly.

“Hey, not my fault,” Remus said, holding up his hands in mock surrender, making both women laugh.

“Thank you, Madame Pomfrey,” Cassie said earnestly.

“Of course, my dear.”

Cassie finished her tea and set the cup aside as Pomfrey asked, “When can I expect you?”

“I’ve got free periods Wednesday and Thursday afternoons. I could come then?”

“Perfect.” Pomfrey stood, prompting them both to rise as well. “I’ll see you then, Cassie. And thank you for introducing yourself.” Her gaze shifted fondly to Remus. “And you—don’t be a stranger. Come by again.”

“Thank you, Madame Pomfrey,” Cassie said brightly.

“I’ll come back,” Remus promised with a small smile.

Pomfrey ushered them kindly to the door. They left the hospital wing side by side, both still smiling as they went their separate ways—Remus back to his office, Cassie through the portrait hole into Gryffindor Tower.

And Cassie was happy.

---

5. Ground Control to Major Tom

The late morning sun spilled through the cracks in Cassie’s closed curtains. She rolled over, tugged the fabric aside, and found Lyra’s bed empty. The curtains of the four-poster were thrown wide, blankets and sheets tangled as if she’d flung herself out in a rush.

Must’ve had a morning class, Cassie thought. Letting the curtain fall shut again, she turned over, pulled the blanket up to her chin, and smiled as her eyes drifted closed. She hadn’t quite fallen asleep when her alarm went off.

With a groan, she sat up. She still wanted to head out before classes started, just to be awake and moving. She changed into what were basically pajamas passable enough to leave the dorm in, grabbed her book and slipped it into a little tote along with her wand. Sliding on slipper-like shoes, she padded downstairs toward the common room.

Upon stepping foot in the common room she spotted him. Fred was sprawled across the crimson couch, lazily tossing a ball into the air and catching it. His head rested on a pillow, knees bent over the armrest. The giant barely fit.

Cassie froze, then pivoted back toward the stairs—

“Larkie!” Fred’s sing-song voice stopped her.

Cassie shut her eyes, then turned slowly. He was grinning, of course.
“Hello, Fred,” she said flatly.

“Slept in, did you?” Fred asked, sitting up.

“Free period,” Cassie said shortly, folding her arms.

“Lucky me,” he rubbed his hands together conspiratorially.

Cassie shut her eyes in anguish. “I don’t think I want to know why,” she whinged.

“Guess who else has free period with you.”

Cassie didn’t answer.

“This guy.” Fred jabbed his thumbs at himself. “And Lyra. And George, I guess—but I’m better.”

“Where are they?” Cassie asked with a slight groan.

“Great Hall. Bringing me breakfast.”

Cassie gave him a look. “Your brother is so nice to you—and for reasons unknown to me.” She relented, crossing the room and dropping into the armchair farthest from him to wait for Lyra.

“I gave him two sickles,” Fred admitted.

Cassie scoffed a laugh.

“Loook at that! I got her to laugh. Point: Fred.”

“Too bad no one was around to see.” Cassie pouted mockingly, swiveling sideways in her chair so she could drape her legs over the armrest the same way Fred had been sprawled earlier. Pulling her book from her bag, she flipped it open—though she wasn’t sure why she thought she could get any reading done with Fred sitting across from her.

Shockingly enough, he wasn’t saying anything. Just staring. Occasionally, she glanced up to see if he’d stopped, but there he was: chin propped on clasped hands, elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on her.

Cassie finally snapped her book shut with a sigh. “Can I help you?”

Fred just shrugged smugly, still silent.

Cassie narrowed her eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

Before he could break his silence, the portrait hole swung open. Lyra and George stepped through, each balancing a plate in their hands. The smell of toast and bacon instantly filled the common room.

“Breakfast delivery,” George announced, holding up Fred’s plate like it was a prize.

“Finally!” Fred shot up from the couch, grin wide as ever. “See, Larkie?

Lyra snorted and passed Cassie her plate without being asked. “Don’t let him fool you. He practically begged.”

“Bribed, actually,” George corrected with a smirk.

“You brought me breakfast?” Cassie asked, looking down at the plate in her hands.

“’Course I did!” Lyra said brightly.

“Thanks.” Cassie leaned her head against Lyra’s side, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Fred plopped back onto the couch, already shoveling food into his mouth. He pointed his fork at his brother. “I owe you.”

“You’ve owed me for years now,” George said without missing a beat.

“For what?!” Fred demanded, scandalized, half his words muffled around a mouthful of eggs.

“I don’t know. Something, probably.” George grinned and elbowed Lyra gently, earning a laugh.

“Now tell me, whose clever idea was it to give us four the same free period?” Lyra asked. “Being friends with you two already is chaos.” She gestured toward the twins.

“Wait till the pranks start,” Fred said mischievously. “That’s when the chaos really begins.”

Cassie raised a brow as she chewed. “So this is my life now? Surrounded by mayhem before I’ve even had breakfast?”

Fred leaned back with a smug grin. “That’s what friends are for.”

Cassie blinked. “Whoa, hold on—I never said we were friends.”

The mock-offended look on Fred’s face made George snort, and Lyra nearly choked on toast she took from Cassie. Within seconds, all three were laughing, while Cassie tried to bite back her own smile.

“Y’know,” Fred started, standing slightly and leaning over to pluck a piece of bacon from Cassie’s plate, “I have a prank idea.”

Cassie gaped, staring at the empty spot on her plate, then up at him. “You’re a prick,” she said flatly.

Fred waved the bacon like a pointer. “We’ve got a few dung bombs and doxy bombs up in the dorm. We could put ’em in Filch’s office.” He took a bite. “Rig one so it falls right on his head when he enters.”

“That sounds awful,” Cassie said, frowning. “Plus, Lyra and I have Defense Against the Dark Arts in forty-five minutes.” She looked at Lyra excitedly.

“Can we get there early so I can speak to him?” Lyra asked. “I’m excited for our first class with ‘Uncle Remus.’”

Cassie shut her eyes at the word uncle. She knew Lyra meant no harm—but she also knew the twins were about to have a field day.

“Uncle?” Fred’s voice rang out.

Lyra’s eyes went wide; her mouth shifted from shock to an apologetic little ‘oops.’

George glanced at his twin, then back at Cassie.

Fred put a finger to his chin, tapping it thoughtfully. “Defense Against the Dark Arts… uncle…” He trailed off, like he was piecing it together in his head.

Reading his thoughts, Cassie said, “Yes, Fred. Uncle.”

“You’re related to the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?” George asked, curiosity bright in his eyes.

Cassie shook her head. “Sure,” she said lightly, not wanting to explain everything.

“Larkie, you’re like the ultimate teacher’s pet,” Fred laughed, already scheming.

“Yep,” Cassie said dryly, nodding as she slid out of the chair and started for the stairs.

“Put in a good word for me with Uncle Remus,” Fred called after her.

Behind her, she heard Lyra mutter a soft goodbye and the light padding of her footsteps on the carpet. By the time Cassie was halfway up the stairs, Lyra had caught up.

“Cass! I’m so sorry—I wasn’t even thinking,” she said quickly.

“It’s alright,” Cassie said. “It’s not like it was necessarily a secret.”

“I know, but now you’ll never hear the end of it,” Lyra said apologetically.

“Really, Lyra, it’s okay.” Cassie put a hand on her shoulder. “They were going to find out sooner or later. Just one of my many family secrets.” She teased, though she wasn’t lying. “Plus, I’ll just tell Remus to go hard on him.”

Lyra’s worry softened into a small smile, and Cassie returned it. The two of them continued up the stairs together, slipping back into the quiet of their dorm.

Upon returning, Cassie went straight for the wardrobe, collecting her uniform and starting to change.

“Cassie,” Lyra said from behind her.

“Hm?” Cassie hummed, wobbling as she tugged on a sock and nearly fell over.

“I think we were destined to be friends,” Lyra said suddenly.

“Really?” Cassie laughed, glancing over her shoulder.

She found Lyra staring into the open wardrobe. “Our initials are similar, are they not?” Lyra pointed. “CLL and LLT.”

“Huh. I guess they are.” Cassie tilted her head to the side, considering. “Both Lyra and Cassiopeia are constellations, too. So that’s another.”

“Pause.” Lyra turned to gape at her. “I think you forgot to mention that your name was Cassiopeia.”

Cassie rolled her eyes with a smile and shook her head. “Doesn’t make it better that my middle name is Lune.”

“So you’re queen of the moon,” Lyra said slowly.

“If you’re being literal, yeah.” Cassie brushed hair from her face. “Blame my uncle for the middle name. There was always some variation of Cassie Lu or Lunie Lu.” Her chest tightened with the memory of Sirius calling her little Lunie Lu around the house.

Cassie nodded. “Yeah. Like Lune—but I guess im a Lupin by association.”

Lyra’s lips twitched. “My family used to call me Lyra Lou.” Cassie thought she caught the faintest shadow of a scowl. “Louise—my grandmother’s name.”

Cassie laughed. “See? We really were destined to be friends.”

“Next thing you’ll tell me, you had a dog named after the bloody Queen of England,” Lyra said dryly.

Cassie’s eyes widened before she burst into laughter.

“You’re an arse,” Lyra said, shoving her playfully.

“So, you ready for class, Lyra Lou?” Cassie teased.

“Ready, Lunie Lark,” Lyra shot back without missing a beat.

Grinning, the girls collected their things and left the dorm. Cassie led the way, already knowing the route. As they walked, her mind drifted. Lune—that had been Sirius’ idea. Cassie still wasn’t sure if he’d meant it as a joke—tying her constellation name to the moon the way Lyra had—or if it was… a Moony thing.

It was obvious they’d been close, Sirius and Remus, closer than anyone had ever explained to her. But Remus never spoke of it, and with Sirius’ escape still fresh, Cassie couldn’t bring herself to ask.

So she kept her questions folded away, hidden, like a secret note at the bottom of her trunk.

“Found it!” Lyra said, pointing to the door and pulling Cassie from her thoughts.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Let’s go in,” Cassie said.

Lyra grinned and pushed the door open.

Remus stood at the front of the room, waiting for students, his eyes lighting up when he saw them. “Welcome—” he began, then froze, noticing Lyra. “Oh, it’s just you,” he added when his eyes landed on Cassie.

“Ha ha,” Cassie deadpanned. “Remus, this is Lyra—my dorm mate and friend.” She gestured toward her.

“Hi, Professor,” Lyra said, “or should I say… ‘Uncle Remus’?”

Remus raised an eyebrow.

“It’s become a thing,” Cassie explained with a shrug.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you. Glad to see Cassie has a friend,” Remus said warmly.

“Don’t be like that,” Cassie said, smirking. “I just talk about ‘Uncle Remus’ so much that she wanted to meet you before meeting Professor You.”

“Ah, okay,” Remus said with a slight smile.

“Which reminds me,” Cassie continued, “Lyra accidentally blabbed that you’re my uncle—”

“I said I was sorry,” Lyra interjected.

“—and I got called the ultimate teacher’s pet. So basically, what I’m saying is… fail Fred Weasley,” Cassie finished with a dramatic flourish.

“Fail Fred Weasley?” Remus chuckled. “I’m sure Molly would be thrilled,” he said dryly.

“Hey, I’m going to go get us a seat,” Lyra whispered, already slipping Cassie’s bag off her shoulder. “Lovely to meet you, Professor.”

Remus nodded, and Cassie muttered a quick thanks before rounding back to her rant. “I mean, he’s a complete prick. Nearly took my head off on the train with a firework, and now he finds every excuse to annoy me. And the worst part is, I think he actually thinks we’re friends.”

“Or he’s trying to win your love,” Remus said lightly.

“Love?” Cassie spat, scandalized.

“Alright, maybe not love,” Remus amended with a hint of a smile. “But your friendship—he’s trying to prove himself.”

Cassie scoffed, crossing her arms. “He’s got an ego the size of the Black Lake. That boy doesn’t have to prove himself to anyone.”

As Cassie ranted, more students trickled in. A few passed by without a second glance. Others shot her confused looks—half because of her tirade, half because they were trying to puzzle out who she was and why she was already tormenting the poor new professor.

Remus was only half-listening, nodding greetings to students as they entered. Cassie wasn’t being especially loud, but the way she stood there, gesturing and scowling, made it look like she was scolding him. By the time he realized the class was fully seated, he finally cut her off.

“Alright, Cassie,” Remus said quietly, leaning closer. “your friend looks like she wants to crawl into a hole and die. Plus, I do need to start class.”

Cassie glanced back at Lyra, who was staring at her with a flat look, though her eye twitched with barely-contained amusement.

“Oh.” Cassie deflated, nodding at Remus before shuffling over to Lyra and dropping into the seat beside her. “Sorry,” she whispered.

Lyra just shook her head with a quiet laugh.

Remus followed, making his way to the front of the class. He moved without issue, his cane abandoned at the back of the room. Technically, he didn’t need it right now—but he liked having it close, even if only for the comfort it brought.

Remus cleared his throat, wringing his hands slightly. “Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts. I’m Professor Lupin, and I’ll be stepping in as your teacher for this year. Today, we’ll begin with gnomes—very basic, I know, but that’s where we’re starting.”

Cassie couldn’t help but smile. He might not realize it, but Remus Lupin was completely in his element up there.

“We’ll start on spells next class,” he finished before dismissing class. Students filed out, chatting as they went. George appeared in the doorway, and—as expected—Lyra immediately crossed over to him, launching into conversation while she waited for Cassie.

Before following, Cassie slipped up to Remus at the front of the class. “That was brilliant, Moony!” she whispered, pride unmistakable in her tone. “Truly, that was a great first class.”

“Really?” Remus said with a doubtful smile. “I felt like I was barely holding it together.”

“Oh, come on, you’re the best teacher I know.”

“I’m the only teacher you know,” Remus teased.

“Not true!” Cassie retorted, ticking them off on her fingers. “You, Professor Babbling, Professor Sprout, Professor Binns… Madame Pomfrey counts, and after lunch I’ve got Potions. That’s six.”

Remus sucked in a sharp breath. “Good old Snivelly, then.”

Cassie groaned, smacking a hand to her forehead. “Oh, bollocks, I completely forgot he taught that class. Is he going to have some personal vendetta against me just because I’m your goddaughter?”

“Maybe,” Remus admitted with a shrug. “Or maybe the bloke’s changed.”

“Doubt it. From what Harry’s said, Snape hates him.”

“Oh—you’re friends with Harry?” Remus asked, his expression softening.

“I’d say so.” Cassie shrugged. “At least I dont think he dislikes me.”

“Good. Very good.” Remus nodded, thoughtful.

Cassie hesitated, lowering her voice. “Can you… talk to him soon? About everything? He has a right to know, and he’s—he’s family.”

“I will. I promise.” Remus’s voice was gentle but firm. “You’re right, he does deserve to know. But… the time isn’t right just yet.”

Cassie sighed but nodded. “Alright. I’m off to lunch. See you later, Moons.” She gave him a little wave.

“Bye, Cassie.”

She hurried to catch up with Lyra and George.

“Bye, Remus!” Lyra called over her shoulder.

“Lovely to meet you, Lyra,” Remus replied warmly.

“So,” George said as they headed toward the stairs, smirking, “how was class with Uncle Remus?”

“Shut up,” Cassie scoffed, though she couldn’t keep the smile from her face as she shoved him with her shoulder.

On their way down, Fred eventually found them, falling into step with Cassie.

“Found us, mate,” George said, reaching around Cassie to punch his brother in the shoulder.

“Yeah, and I’m offended nobody picked me up from class,” Fred said, giving Cassie a pointed look.

“What, are you looking at me? You expect me to walk you from class to class? Now I know you’re mad,” Cassie retorted.

“George picked up our little Rosie here,” Fred said smugly.

“Rosie?” Cassie asked, confused.

“It’s a stupid nickname they came up with,” Lyra said, rolling her eyes. “Because my last name is Thorne.”

“Because roses have thorns,” Fred added helpfully.

“Right,” Cassie said, raising an eyebrow.

“Which isn’t true for Lyra,” George said, and Lyra tried to turn away to hide a blush.

Cassie leaned closer to Fred, whispering, “Hope you have my money ready, Firecrotch.”

Fred froze, his mouth falling open. He looked like she’d just slapped him with a jelly slug, then shook his head and let out an incredulous laugh as they continued walking.

As the four of them made their way into the Great Hall and neared the Gryffindor table, they spotted Ron, Hermione, and Harry scowling across at the Slytherin table. For good reason.

A gaggle of Slytherins had gathered around, with the blonde boy at the center. A girl with a blunt, short black bob was practically fussing over Draco. “Does it hurt terribly, Draco?” she asked, overly sweet.

Draco’s hand was wrapped in a white bandage extending up his forearm, with a sling that did little to support it.

“It comes and goes,” Draco said, inspecting his wrist. “Still, I consider myself lucky. According to Madam Pomfrey, another minute or two and I—uh—could’ve lost my arm. I couldn’t possibly do any homework for weeks.”

Cassie’s brows furrowed as she took in the scene while following her friends to the table.

“Listen to the idiot,” Ron muttered as they sat with the trio. “He’s really laying it on thick, isn’t he?”

“What happened?” Cassie asked, slipping in next to Lyra, across from Harry.

“A Hippogriff threw him to the ground and gave him a scratch,” Lyra explained in a mocking tone.

“That’s Draco Malfoy for ya,” George said, resting his chin on his hands.

“Well, at least Hagrid didn’t get fired,” Harry noted.

“Yeah, but I heard Draco’s father is furious,” Hermione added. “We haven’t heard the end of this.”

It was then that a boy came running into the Great Hall, paper in hand, yelling, “He’s been sighted! He’s been sighted!” His Irish accent cut through the chatter.

“Who?” Neville asked.

The Irish boy slammed the paper onto the table. “Sirius Black!” he said.

Cassie felt a stone drop into her stomach. Around her, everyone gasped, leaning in or standing to get a better view.

“Dufftown?” Hermione said, eyes widening. “That’s not far from here.”

“Y-you don’t think he’d come to Hogwarts, do you?” Neville stammered, fear edging his voice.

“With Dementors at every entrance?” a boy muttered.

“Dementors,” the Irish boy scoffed. “He’s already slipped past them once, hasn’t he? Who’s to say he won’t do it again?”

He had a point.

“That’s right,” another boy said, voice low and ominous. “Black could be anywhere. It’s like trying to catch smoke… like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands.”

Cassie looked down at the page. A moving picture showed one of the kindest men she had ever known, screaming like a deranged man. His dark, once-well-kept curls fell into his eyes as others held him back and pushed him aggressively against the wall.

It was almost sickening. It felt horrible, the dissonance between the man she knew and the fear everyone else felt. She couldn’t imagine how someone who was so good could be so feared and hated.

Once lunch formally began, Cassie barely noticed. She moved on autopilot, her fork scraping against her plate without thought, her mind locked in a loop she couldn’t escape. That picture of Sirius, mouth open in a scream , replayed again and again. Her chest felt tight. It was as if everything she thought she knew had cracked in two, leaving jagged pieces she didn’t know how to fit together.

Her gaze had gone unfocused, zeroing in on the back of some Hufflepuff’s head without her realizing. The conversation around her dimmed to a buzz. She didnt even realize all her friends staring at her.

“Cassie?” George leaned in, brow furrowed.

“Is she alright?” Hermione asked cautiously.

“Larkie,” Fred sang, drawing out the syllables like he was calling a dog.

“Did we break her somehow?” Ron added.

“Hello? Earth to Cass. Ground control to Cassie Lark?” Lyra waved her hand in front of her face. The motion snapped her back, though her eyes were still heavy, still fixed somewhere far away.

“That’s a David Bowie song,” Cassie said flatly, her voice oddly detached. “Space Oddity.”

Fred snorted. “When did Lark turn into a robot?”

She blinked, finally shifting to look at him. Her head gave a small shake, not sharp but deliberate, a mix of annoyance and disappointment tugging at her expression. Lips pressed into a thin line, she didn’t bother answering.

Fred’s grin faltered, just slightly.

Cassie cleared her throat. “I’m actually not that hungry. I’ll just head to class now—see you all at dinner.” And with that, she pushed back her bench and slipped out of the hall.

On her way down to the dungeons, her stomach twisted. Potions was something she’d always been good at—years of practice brewing with Remus had made sure of that—but the stories she’d heard about its miserable master soured her mood. She wasn’t sure if Snape knew of her personally, but he certainly knew of her parents, and their ties to the Marauders.

The thought dredged up a memory: a photograph tucked away in her room at home. Eight teenagers sprawled across the Gryffindor common room, frozen in the warmth of firelight. Sirius, caught mid-laugh, head thrown back, dark hair flying. Remus at his side, scowling, though his smile betrayed him. Her mother leaning against her father’s shoulder, looking up at him with a love-struck grin—and he, of course, gazing back just the same. James and Lily were tangled together on the couch, Lily’s head in James’s lap, her legs dangling over the armrest. On the carpet below, a blonde girl leaned against another, whose dark curls framed her striking features: Marlene McKinnon and Mary MacDonald, honorary Marauders alongside Lily and Cassie’s parents.

Peter was missing, presumably behind the camera.

The firelight bathed them all in gold, caught in their own little worlds, laughter and love forever frozen in the photograph.

Now… six of them, including Peter, were dead. Mary had obliviated herself, unable to carry the memories. Sirius was a fugitive. And Remus—Remus was right back where he’d started.

Now Cassie feared failure—not because of the subject, but because this man surely had something against her predecessors.

The air grew colder as she descended deeper into the dungeons. Shadows stretched along the stone walls, and her footsteps echoed, mingling with the few other students headed in the same direction, all with the same thought: get to class early.

When she entered the Potions classroom, it was nearly empty. A handful of students were already scattered about, pulling books and quills from their bags, their voices low, filling the space with an uneasy hush.

Cassie tugged her cloak tighter around her shoulders, the chill of the dungeons seeping deeper as she sat. From her bag, she pulled out her supplies and opened Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger. She also carried Advanced Potion-Making by Libatius Borage—Remus’s old copy, its margins scrawled with notes. Most of her supplies had been handed down from him, and she never minded; his textbooks were always alive with scribbles—class notes, sarcastic commentary from James and Sirius, and the occasional vulgar doodle that made her bite back a smile whenever she found one.

The scribbles had brought some small measure of resolve, but it all flitted away when a shadow fell across her and the table.

“This seat taken?”

Cassie could hear the smile in his voice.

Fred.

She pressed her hands to her face, rubbing her eyes with her fingers. “Yeah, whatever—it’s free,” she muttered, not in the mood to argue. Not really in the mood for anything at all.

She knew he felt victorious; she could see it in the way he straightened, pulled the chair out, and plopped down. He leaned a little closer than necessary—not offensive, but certainly too close.

Cassie organized her supplies, forcing her focus elsewhere while they waited for Snape to arrive. Every few seconds, she caught the sound of quiet snickering. Glancing over without turning fully, she noticed Fred scanning the notes in her book, chuckling at the scribbles. At least he wasn’t actively bothering her.

There was light chatter in the room, students murmuring about the potions they hoped to attempt. Cassie found herself quietly wishing she’d discover new ways to help Remus—and maybe others—in the future.

Then the door swung open. Professor Snape entered, his black cloak billowing dramatically behind him. The room went instantly silent, the kind of silence where even the faintest sound seemed amplified, like a pin dropping could echo through the stone walls.

Snape glided to the front of the classroom, his cloak swishing silently behind him. As he reached the center, his eyes locked onto Cassie’s. The look was sharp, deliberate and icy—and Cassie felt a jolt of unease. There was no mistaking it: he was irritated, and she was the focus.

Shit.

Finally, his cold, measured voice cut through the silence. “Today, we will be making the Draught of Peace. Follow the directions in your textbooks exactly. Open to page fifty-four.”

Cassie flipped her book open, every instinct on alert.

Snape’s gaze swept the room once more, lingering a fraction longer on her before continuing: “You will be partnered with the student sitting next to you. That partnership will remain for the duration of the year.”

Cassie’s eyes flicked sideways at Fred. No way was she passing this class with him as a partner.

“Begin,” Snape drawled, and the ingredients appeared neatly on their tables.

Fred had already flipped the book open to the assigned page.

“Powdered moonstone, syrup of hellebore, stewed mandrake, powdered unicorn horn, powdered porcupine quills… and water,” Cassie muttered, reading carefully.

Fred reached for the mandrake, but Cassie slapped his hand away.

“Hey! What was that for?” he protested.

“I understand we have to work together,” Cassie said, sliding him a mortar and pestle, “but you are not ruining this for me. You will grind the moonstone, unicorn horn, and porcupine quills into a powder.”

“So… you get to do all the fun stuff?” Fred asked, leaning back slightly and crossing his arms.

“I’m boiling and mashing a glorified potato and juicing a plant,” Cassie said flatly, reaching for the mandrake.

“Wouldn’t that be… milking?” Fred grinned.

As he worked the quills down later, he paused, eyebrow raised. “What do you think would happen if I snorted this?”

Cassie didn’t even look up from the mandrake she was cubing. “Probably nothing noticeable—your brain’s already mush.”

Fred chuckled, unbothered, and went back to grinding.

Cassie replaced the water in the cauldron and dropped the mandrake cubes into a mesh bag, tying it tight before slipping it into a second one to prevent fallout. Using a flat metal press, she crushed the softened mandrake into pulp and lowered the heavy teabag into the simmering water to steep.

When she pulled on gloves to squeeze syrup from the hellebore, her nose scrunched in concentration—the stuff was dangerously poisonous.

Fred caught the fleeting scrunch, unexpected and oddly endearing.

All the concentrates of the ingredients were laid out when Cassie turned to Fred.
“I will allow you to add ingredients—if you do exactly as I say,” she warned.

Fred’s smile was instant.

“Do not make me regret this.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Lark,” he said, far too smug.

Cassie scanned the book. “Remove the mandrake and add the powdered moonstone. It should turn green. Green.”

“Alright, Larkie, I’m not color-blind,” Fred replied, fishing out the teabag.

Cassie raised her hands in mock surrender and turned back to the cauldron.

Together they worked through the instructions. The potion shifted in a dizzying display—green to blue, purple, pink, turquoise, back to purple, orange, yellow, then looping again. Finally, after one last round of shifting hues—red, purple, pink, orange—it settled into a clean, silvery white.

There were close to ten minutes of class left when Snape began his rounds, either doling out points or dragging them away depending on how the potions turned out. When he reached their table he gave a curt nod.
“Five points to Gryffindor.”

Cassie bit back a smile.

“Miss Lark — see me after class,” he added, the k at the end of her name clicking like a snapped pebble as he moved on.

Cassie’s eyes widened. In her peripheral vision she caught Fred, his mouth agape in shock, though a grin was threatening to break loose. Under his breath he murmured, “Ooooh, Larkie’s in trouble.” Resulting in a glare from Cassie.

Cassie’s eyes widened. In her peripheral vision she caught Fred, his mouth agape in shock, though a grin was threatening to break loose. Under his breath he murmured, “Ooooh, Larkie’s in trouble.”

When class finally ended, Cassie gathered her things and walked over to him.

“Professor,” she said.

“Miss Lark.” That hard k again. He regarded her with that familiar sneer. “At the request of Professor Dumbledore, I am required”—he nearly spat the word—“to assist Mr. Lupin with his… condition.” The pause was loaded, dripping with disgust. “I will brew the Wolfsbane Potion. You will collect it and see that it reaches him on time.”

Cassie nodded stiffly.

“Let me be perfectly clear,” Snape continued, his voice low and deliberate. “If you fail in this simple task, it is he who will suffer for it. Not me. Not you.” His lip curled. “Him.”

“Yes, sir,” Cassie said, her mind already darting ahead to the library for research.

“You are dismissed.” With a swirl of his cloak, he swept away toward his office.

The breath Cassie had been holding left her in a quiet shiver.

Cassie left the dungeons, her bag thumping against her hip as she started the long trek back up. By the time she finally reached the fourth floor, her legs were screaming in protest. She sank down onto the nearest step, breathless.

The stairs at Hogwarts were brutal.

Finally, she pushed herself back to her feet with a groan and trudged toward the library. No matter how much the castle stairs tried to kill her, she wasn’t about to let them win. Sliding inside the quiet, cavernous room, Cassie wasted no time heading straight for the shelves, eyes already scanning for anything that would possibly mention Wolfsbane.

Cassie scanned the shelves up and down, not entirely sure what she was even looking for. Her eyes darted over titles in frustration, and in her distraction she walked straight into someone’s back. The impact jolted her, and she stumbled before blinking up at a boy with fluffy blond hair and a kind, open face. He wasn’t ugly by any stretch — in fact, there was something striking in the way his features balanced between sharp and soft, his square jaw softened by the warmth in his expression. The yellow trim of his robes marked him as a Hufflepuff, and a gleaming prefect’s badge caught the light on his chest.

“Oh my— I am so sorry, I was completely not paying attention,” Cassie blurted.

“No harm done,” the boy said easily, extending a hand. “Ernie.”

“Cassie,” she replied, shaking his hand. “Prefect?” she asked, then instantly felt stupid — the badge gleamed right there on his chest.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I help Madam Pince with shelving books every Friday.”

“Oh, cool.” Cassie brightened. “I’m a prefect too! Though… my badge is probably buried somewhere in this bag.” She gave a sheepish laugh.

Ernie chuckled. “Is that so?”

“Yeah. I just patrol at night, mostly.”

“That’s the best part,” Ernie said. “Wandering an empty castle, exploring with no one around.”

Cassie grinned. “It is pretty great. Actually—wait. You can help me. Possibly.”

“Oh, can I?” Ernie raised a brow.

“Can you?” Cassie asked sweetly.

“That depends on what it is,” he said, amused.

“I’m looking for a book, but I’m not sure which,” she said. “I plan on being a healer one day, so I want all the information on potions I can get.” It was all true.

“Smashing,” Ernie said. He was quiet for a moment, thinking, then snapped his fingers. “We just got a new book by Damocles Belby with a ton of advanced potions.”

“Brilliant!” Cassie said.

“One problem,” Ernie added. “That book would be in the Restricted Section.”

“Shit… I need a note for that, don’t I? Should I go grab one?” Cassie asked.

Ernie wagged a finger at her, shaking his head. “Lucky for you, I can go in and grab it for you.”

“Oh, would you?” Cassie said, hopeful.

“'Course,” Ernie said, already walking away, leaving Cassie alone for only a few minutes.

When he returned, he carried a dark chartreuse book titled Advanced Potion Theory: Masterworks of Damocles Belby.

“This contains some of the hardest potions—Dragon Hide Elixir, Shape-Shifter’s Salve, and the newest one, Wolfsbane,” he said. “It just came in yesterday.”

It was exactly what Cassie needed. “How do you already know all that?” she asked.

“Oh, I read the back on my way over here,” Ernie said matter-of-factly.

Cassie laughed, and Ernie laughed with her.

“Well, thank you for your help,” she said. “I’ll come find you so you can join me on a fun little stroll around the castle during my next patrol.”

“Sounds like fun,” Ernie said.

“See you around,” Cassie waved as she walked away.

“Bye, Cassie,” Ernie called back.

“Nice kid,” Cassie murmured, heading toward the stairs.

She made her way up to Gryffindor Tower and slipped into the comfort of her dorm. Her bag hit the floor with a soft thud as she flopped onto her bed, tugging the curtains closed.

It wasn’t until Lyra entered the dorm that Cassie realized she’d dozed off. She stirred when the door clicked shut, peeking her head out from behind the curtains and squinting.

“Oh, hello, tiny harp,” Cassie said.

“Tiny harp? Boy, is that a new one. You all are on a roll with the nicknames—Lyra Lou, Rosie, tiny harp,” Lyra listed.

Cassie smiled, shaking her head.

“How’re you doing? How have you been?” Lyra asked.

Cassie narrowed her eyes at her friend. “Good?”

“Just making sure,” Lyra said, crossing her arms. “You left lunch so abruptly.”

“Oh yeah…” Cassie murmured, remembering. “Just some family stuff.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Lyra asked gently.

Cassie shrugged. “Sure, whatever.” She pushed the curtains open and patted the spot beside her as she scooted up toward the headboard. Lyra climbed onto the bed and sat facing her.

“Alright. Whenever you’re ready, I’m listening,” Lyra said.

“Well, my parents died when I was three,” Cassie said coolly. “Snatchers. Never saw them again. Remus took me in without hesitation. And that's kind of why I'm here, Remus was offered a job and I came with.”

“Oh, Cassie… I’m so sorry,” Lyra whispered.

“I’m okay, Lyr, really,” Cassie replied, her tone light, almost dismissive.

Lyra nodded slowly. “But… is that why you left lunch?”

Cassie rubbed the back of her neck, chuckling awkwardly. “Funny story, actually…”

Lyra leaned in, eyes searching her friend’s face.

“Remember when that little Irish boy ran in with the Daily Prophet?” Cassie asked.

“Seamus?” Lyra guessed.

“Is that his name?—anyway, remember that picture of Sirius Black?”

“Yeah. He looked proper mad,” Lyra said, making Cassie wince.

“And if I told you I used to call him Uncle Sirius?” Cassie asked.

Lyra’s eyes went wide with disbelief. “Rewind—what?”

Cassie sighed and launched into the story. She explained the bond between her parents and the Marauders, how tight-knit they all were, and told Lyra about the nights spent in the little London townhouse with just Sirius, Remus, and her. She even added the bit about her mum and Lily—Elodie had been adopted into the Evans family, which made Cassie Lily’s niece.

“That makes you—”

“Harry’s cousin,” Cassie finished for her.

Lyra gaped. “Does he know?”

“No, he doesn’t. Remus wants to tell him first, so please don’t say anything,” Cassie said, her tone edging into seriousness for the first time.

Lyra held up her pinky. “This better not be some sick joke.”

Cassie let out a laugh and hooked her pinky with Lyra’s, locking the promise. “All true.”

Lyra sighed. “Well, that explains why you were on a different planet today.”

“Just looking for Bowie,” Cassie teased, earning a snort of laughter.

“You’re ridiculous,” Lyra said, shaking her head but smiling all the same.

“Well, your turn now,” Cassie teased.

“You actually want to hear it? It’s… a lot.”

“Oh no, I was only joking—unless you want to.”

Lyra shrugged. “Trauma for trauma. In short? My parents are awful.”

Cassie tilted her head. “How so?”

“I’d been getting Hogwarts letters for five years before finally making it here. I’m Muggle-born, and when my family found out I had magic, they sent me to a mental hospital. Thought it would ‘fix’ me and I’d come out brand new.”

Cassie’s smile fell.

“Clearly that didn’t happen,” Lyra went on, voice light but brittle. “On September first, McGonagall finally had enough. She came to get me herself.”

Cassie could tell Lyra was trying to downplay it, but the hurt was there.

“I’m not allowed back home,” Lyra added quietly.

“I’m sorry, Lyra. That’s… awful.”

“Yeah. But I’m here now, and that’s what matters.”

Cassie hesitated. “But what about the holidays?”

Lyra sighed. “I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.”

“Alright. Well—you’re always welcome at the cottage.”

“Thanks.” Lyra smiled faintly. They sat in silence for a moment before she suddenly laughed. “Look at us. You’ve got a crazy uncle who wants to kill your cousin, and my parents are the worst.”

“Lucky us,” Cassie said, smiling as Lyra rested her head on her shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re here, Cass,” Lyra murmured. “Thanks for being my friend.”

Cassie bumped her head lightly against Lyra’s. “Oh, you sap. Shut up before I cry.”

---

6. Dementors Suck

Immediately after lunch, Cassie practically ran to the hospital wing for her first lesson with Madame Pomfrey. When she pushed open the doors into the medical bay, the matron was already waiting, hands clasped behind her back, wearing a warm smile.

“Right on time, Cassie,” she said.

“I am so ready, Madame Pomfrey,” Cassie beamed.

“As am I.” Pomfrey’s smile widened. “Let’s start with a brief tour.”

The hospital wing stretched before Cassie, a long hall lined with staggered beds on both sides, each with a curtain for privacy. The familiar scent of antiseptic and lavender hung in the air, just as it had that first day she’d come in with Remus.

With a beckoning hand, Pomfrey led her to the far right corner where the supplies were kept. Closest to the entrance stood a large credenza desk, neat stacks of linens folded beside an open storage box filled with small vials.

“Just a few new tinctures I’ve made,” Pomfrey explained. “If you brew any, they can be stored here.”

She turned, gesturing to the wall perpendicular to them. Built into it were two massive hutches. From the floor up to about a foot high, nine drawers lined the base — three wide ones in the center, flanked by three shorter drawers on either side. Above those, shelves brimmed with thick volumes, cubbies crammed with ingredients, and tall cylindrical jars that gleamed in the light. Even higher were rows of labeled drawers Cassie couldn’t even read from where she stood.

“For those,” Pomfrey said knowingly, “just use the Summoning Charm. They’ll fly right to you.”

“Is it tall enough?” Cassie joked, craning her neck.

“Not nearly.” Pomfrey chuckled, her sarcasm warm. “Now, I’d like to see what you know.” She gestured toward her office.

“Thank you,” Cassie murmured as she followed her inside.

Behind her desk, Pomfrey slid a sheet of parchment across and set a quill beside it. One side listed potions, spells, and salves; the opposite side left blank lines for answers.

“I’m sure you can guess what this is,” she said, smiling. “Give me a basic definition of each so I can get a sense of your healing knowledge.”

Cassie nodded and bent over the parchment. The small office was quiet but for the steady scratch of her quill and the occasional clink of Pomfrey’s teacup. When she finished, only two spells were left blank. She slid it back across the desk.

Pomfrey scanned the sheet, her expression unreadable until she lowered it again with a smile.

“Well, Cassie,” she said. “Normally, I’d say I’m impressed—and I am—but I can’t say I’m surprised. Not after hearing how you’ve cared for Remus.”

“Well, Cassie,” she said. “Normally, I’d say I’m impressed—and I am—but I can’t say I’m surprised. Not after hearing how you’ve cared for Remus.”

“He’s a handful,” Cassie muttered with a wry smile.

Madame Pomfrey chuckled. “As he grew older, he talked back more. But when he was young… it was dreadful. Always looked so tired.” Her voice softened with memory, eyes momentarily distant.

Cassie had known from the start that Pomfrey was empathetic—she’d seen it in the way the matron cried when she first saw Remus again—and this only confirmed it.

“But always lovely,” she finished, voice warm with fondness.

“Madame Pomfrey…” Cassie hesitated, fingers worrying at the edge of her sleeve. “What was my mum like… with the healing?”

Pomfrey stilled, her expression softening as though a tide of memories had washed over her. She leaned back in her chair, a wistful smile tugging at her lips.
“Oh, Elodie…” she breathed, almost to herself. “She was the most apt student healer I ever had the privilege to teach. Natural, really—like the craft was stitched into her bones. Quick to learn, steady hands, and a heart that never wavered. She always thought of the person first and the ailment second.”

Her eyes softened further, as though she were seeing the past instead of the office around her.

"You know, she was here every month after the full moon, sitting with Remus, tending to him. She never missed classes for anyone, but for him she did—and no matter how hard he tried to push her away, she never left his side. Not only was she the most gifted student healer I’d ever seen, but also the kindest and most devoted young woman I ever had the privilege to know."

Cassie smiled faintly. "Remus doesn’t tell me much—I reckon it still hurts—but I do know he was very close with the Evans girls."

"It seemed as though your mother was his very best friend," Madame Pomfrey said gently.

"I’m sure she was," Cassie replied.

"How old were you when they passed if you dont mind me asking?" Madame pomfrey asked

"Three" Cassie said "though i remember nothing, not sure if i blocked it out or just plain have no recollection" she gave a halfhearted chuckle "and i was at godrics hollow on Halloween too"

"I'm sorry dear" Madame pomfrey said

Cassie shurgged "S'alright, dont remember much anyway" she said again "i do remember meeting my aunt and uncle thought" she smiled at the memory

"Lily and james" pomfrey said

Cassie laughed "Or as i called them, auntie lily and uncle Jamie" she smiled at the memory "that was the night i had met them for the first time"

"So then… Mr potter is you cousin" Madame pomfrey said

Cassie winced "Yes but he doesn't know yet. Remus is waiting for the right time, not entirely sure when that is but i hope its soon."

"Yes yes, im sure he would be happy to hear he has family here." Madame pomfrey said

"I hope so" Cassie said

It was quiet for a moment. Slightly awkward. Till Madame pomfrey spoke

"That should be all for today Cassie, it has been wonderful to continue to get to know you, i shall see you tomorrow as well yes?"

Cassie nodded

"Lovely! We will get into practical work tomorrow then" Madame pomfrey said

"Thank you Madame pomfrey!" Cassie said standing and heading for the door and opening it "oh and thank you for the story"

"You're welcome dear" Madame pomfrey said, and Cassie shut the door.

***
Cassie’s wrist was caught in Lyra’s grip as she was reluctantly dragged down to the Quidditch pitch. She’d barely had a moment to change before Lyra was already hauling her out the door.

“Look, Lyr, I know you just want to watch Weasley try out—but why me?” Cassie complained.

“Quit your griping. I brought you a book to read,” Lyra said cheerfully, holding up The Count of Monte Cristo, which Cassie had been working through. “I just didn’t want to sit out here alone.”

“There’s no one else you could have dragged?” Cassie muttered.

“Nope!” Lyra said, and Cassie could hear the grin in her voice.

Cassie rolled her eyes but let herself be tugged along—right up until they were wedged between Fred and George Weasley. She shut her eyes against the glare of the sun, only for it to be blocked by a looming shadow and a too-familiar voice.

“Hello, Larkie.”

Lyra and George immediately slipped into easy conversation, while Cassie dropped into a crouch with exaggerated, pitiful—if entirely fake—sobs, her wrist still trapped in Lyra’s hold, as though she feared Cassie might bolt.

Fred circled around and crouched in front of her. “Bit dramatic, aren’t we today, Larkie?”

Cassie lifted her foot and shoved him square in the knees. Fred toppled backwards with an “oof,” flat on his back. He might’ve been brilliant on a broom, but solid ground clearly failed him today. Cassie almost laughed—almost—but she knew better. He’d only take satisfaction in winning that.

“I’m flattered, Lark, really. You just can’t stay away from me,” Fred said, brushing himself off and leaning in far too close to Cassie’s face.

“Correction—you can’t seem to stay away from me for reasons beyond my comprehension,” Cassie shot back, jabbing a finger between his eyebrows to push him back.

“Semantics,” Fred shrugged, entirely unbothered.

Cassie huffed. “And just so we’re clear, I’m only here because Lyra dragged me to watch your brother fly, not to put up with you.”

Fred only smirked wider, clearly satisfied at having gotten a rise out of her.

Meanwhile, Lyra and George were already lost in their own world, leaving Cassie stuck with the far more irritating twin.

“Oi! Weasleys!” a sharp voice called from the direction of the changing tent. “Quit flirtin’ and get your arses on the pitch! Just ’cause you’ve been on the team before doesn’t mean you’ve got a guaranteed spot!”

Cassie turned her head and caught sight of him. His short, neatly kept brown hair barely shifted in the wind, and his sharp hazel eyes missed nothing. His mouth was set in that unmistakable half-grimace, half-grin of someone who thrived on competition, and his posture radiated urgency, every movement precise and purposeful. Even from a distance, it was clear he commanded attention—and respect—without needing to shout.

“O Captain, my Captain,” Fred muttered, pushing himself up on his knees to stand.

“Comin’, Wood!” George called, then snickered. “Remind me not to say that again,” he said to Lyra.

“Gross!”

Wood turned and entered the tent. “Get out, Lee,” Oliver said flatly. Shortly after, a boy with dark skin and dreadlocks stepped out, a smitten smile on his face as the twins greeted him in passing.

“All right, up,” Lyra said, hauling Cassie to her feet.

Cassie dusted off her jeans, and when she looked up, she was slightly surprised to see the boy.

“Hiya,” he said. “Lee Jordan.” He offered both hands to the girls and crossed them.

Both girls laughed, each shaking a hand.

“Cassie.”

“Lyra.”

“Friends of the twins?” Lee asked.

“No,” Cassie said.

“Yes,” Lyra interjected, glancing at Cassie. “Yes!” she added more forcefully.

“Fred infuriates me, while Lyra here, my dear sweet friend, is utterly infatuated with his twin,” Cassie explained.

“Cassie!” Lyra cried, face turning red.

“Ah, hopelessly in love too?” Lee teased.

“I’m not—just—Cassie!” she sputtered again.

“Walk with me, ladies,” Lee said, already turning toward the stands.

Cassie followed quickly, mostly because Lyra had started poking her furiously wherever she could reach. Her lips were pressed into a flat line, nose wrinkled, but there was no real malice in it. Cassie broke into a jog up the stairs, laughing, while Lyra chased after her.

“You’re a right prick, Cassiopeia Lune Lark!” Lyra called.

“And you’re all flower, no thorn, Lyra Louise Thorne!” Cassie shot back with a grin.

Lee dropped onto the bleachers with a relaxed grin, leaning his arms back against the row behind him, relaxing. Cassie slipped in right after, making sure to take the far side so that Lee sat neatly between her and Lyra—her buffer against any more pokes or swats.

“So you like Quidditch?” Lee asked, watching the team zoom about the pitch.

“You think I’m out here of my own volition?” Cassie shot back, one brow arched as she flicked her gaze toward Lyra. Lyra stuck her tongue out at her in response.

“Right—George,” Lee said, snapping and pointing at Lyra. “Those two have been my mates for—Merlin—years. And now that I think about it, he has been acting different.”

Lyra scoffed, crossing her arms and changing the subject. “Alright, Lee, tell me about the team. We saw you walk out of that tent—spill.”

Lee chuckled, holding his hands up in mock innocence. “Okay, okay. So, I’m sure you know Harry.”

Cassie nodded heavily.

“He’s the Seeker—smallest on the team, fastest on a broom. His whole job is to catch the Snitch and end the game.”

“And the twins?” Lyra asked, trying to keep her tone even but sounding far too giddy.

“Beaters,” Lee said. “Bats in hand, smashing Bludgers away from their teammates—and at the other team whenever they can manage.”

He grinned, pointing out three girls flying in a tight formation. “Those are the Chasers—Alicia Spinnet, Katie Bell, and Angelina Johnson. They pass the Quaffle around and score goals.”

“Uh oh, looks like Lee’s in love,” Cassie teased.

“I’ve been in love with Angie since first year,” Lee said, utterly serious. “She always turns me down, but one day—one day—I can feel it. She’ll return my love and we’ll live happily ever after.”

Both girls burst out laughing.

“I’m sure of it,” Lee said.

Lee pointed toward the boy with the whistle who was circling above, scanning the team with sharp, assessing eyes. “And that’s Oliver Wood. Keeper and Captain—his job’s to guard the hoops. Trust me, no one takes Quidditch more seriously than Wood.”

“Are you sure? Doesn’t seem like he cares much,” Cassie said sardonically, tilting her head as though unimpressed.

“Yeah, right,” Lee scoffed. “Quidditch is all he cares about. Bloke doesn’t even have time for a girlfriend—Quidditch is his one and only love.”

“Sounds terrible,” Lyra pouted, resting her chin in her hand with her elbow propped on her knee, playing it up dramatically.

“And you, Lee? Where are you on this team? You know so much about Quidditch,” Cassie asked.

“Me?” Lee grinned. “I’m not exactly on the team, per se. I’m the announcer at matches. And Cassie—hate to break it to you—but that’s just basic Quidditch knowledge.”

Cassie pressed her lips together and nodded slowly. “Riiiight.”

A sharp whistle cut through the air, pulling their attention back to the pitch. Oliver Wood hovered mid-air on his broom, shouting directions to his team with the intensity of a general leading troops into battle. The players zipped around him, snapping into formation, clearly used to his booming voice and no-nonsense style.

The girls settled into watching, though Lee couldn’t help tossing in the occasional bit of commentary—half announcer, half comedian. “And there we have the famous Gryffindor Chasers, demonstrating how not to pass when your Keeper is glaring holes through your skull.” His dry delivery sent both Cassie and Lyra into bursts of laughter, drawing a warning glance from Wood that only made them laugh harder.

Cassie hugged her knees to her chest, still smiling, while Lyra leaned back on her hands, clearly enjoying herself as much as if it were an actual match.

After what felt like a flurry of brooms and shouts, Wood blew his whistle one last time and called the team to a halt. “All right, that’s enough for today! Good effort, everyone, but remember—precision beats speed every time!” He swooped down from the air, landing with a controlled thud and brushing his robes off.

The team dismounted, murmuring among themselves, while Wood’s eyes swept the field one final time. “Team list’ll be on the bulletin by the end of the week!” he called, giving a sharp nod before striding toward the locker room.

Suddenly, Fred swooped down in front of the three of them, his broom skidding to a dramatic halt. “So, what’d you think, Lunie?” he asked with a wicked grin.

“Lunie?!” Cassie shot to her feet.

Fred leaned back on his broom, cackling with his eyes shut. When he finally glanced at Cassie’s thunderous expression, he doubled over, clutching the handle. “Stop—stop it! I’m going to fall off my broom!” he gasped between laughs.

“Better off that way!” Cassie shrieked. Then she spun sharply on her heel, finger stabbing in Lyra’s direction. “And you! You’re not allowed to speak anymore!”

Lyra only laughed harder, collapsing against Lee, who was no help at all since he’d already dissolved into snickers.

Fuming, Cassie turned back to Fred and jabbed a finger at him, stalking toward the edge of the bleachers like it was a proper standoff. Before she could get a word out, a shriek split the air—George had swooped in, scooping Lyra clean off her seat. Her initial scream of terror quickly melted into more helpless laughter as she dangled from his broom.

“Fancy a fly, Lu?” Fred asked, grinning between Lyra twisting in George’s grip and Cassie’s scowl.

“I’d rather die,” Cassie snapped. With a sharp turn, she stormed off the bleachers and back up toward the castle.

That same evening, in the library—

“I just don’t get it,” Cassie muttered, arms overloaded with books. “Why am I the chosen one so blessed to be constantly pestered by him?”

Ernie chuckled, plucking a book from her stack and sliding it neatly into its spot on the shelf. “That Weasley charm is certainly something,” he said, shaking his head.

“It’s beyond obnoxious,” Cassie groaned, dropping her pile onto the nearest table with a thud. “Sorry to dump all this on you, but Lyra’s practically in love with George, and I don’t really want to bother her with my—”

“Boy trouble?” Ernie cut in, eyebrows raised.

“It’s not boy trouble,” Cassie shot back immediately, bristling.

“Mm-hm,” Ernie said, sliding another book onto the shelf, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “Sounds a lot like boy trouble to me.”

Cassie narrowed her eyes at him. “It’s pest trouble. There’s a difference.”

Ernie laughed. “Sure, sure. A very handsome pest, though, isn’t he?”

“Excuse me while I go vomit.” Cassie made an exaggerated gagging noise.

Ernie held his hands up, feigning innocence. “Just saying—he is rather a ladies’ man.”

“So he’s the Casanova of Gryffindor Tower?” Cassie deadpanned.

“I was thinking more like slag,” Ernie said with a smirk, putting the final book on the shelf.

Cassie sputtered a laugh, and Ernie joined her—until Madame Pince appeared, seemingly out of thin air, and shushed them harshly.

“Sorry,” Cassie whispered, holding back another giggle.

“I’m sorry, Madame Pince,” Ernie whispered.

She disappeared around the corner, and the pair exchanged a final laugh.

“All right, I have patrol tonight. You coming with?” Cassie asked.

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

And with that, they left the library for the night.

***

Thursday morning, after Ancient Runes with Hermione, Cassie made her way to Remus’ classroom like she had the week prior. She shuffled in just as the last students were filing out, leaving Remus with nearly ten minutes before his next class would arrive.

“Morning, Cass,” he said, taking a sip of coffee and immediately wincing as it hit his tongue with a slight “bleh.”

“Is that black coffee, Moons?” Cassie asked, crossing her arms and leaning against the credenza by the window.

Remus nodded, grimacing. “Mhm.”

“You hate black coffee,” Cassie said.

“I’m also exhausted. Spent all night coming up with lesson plans for today,” Remus admitted.

“Since when do you procrastinate?” Cassie asked.

Remus chuckled. “Last night, apparently.”

“Right. Well, you know you’re allowed to put sugar in it. Should wake you up just the same—the caffeine content isn’t changed by adding sugar.”

“Reverse placebo,” Remus said, taking another sip of the bitter drink.

“What?” Cassie mouthed, shaking her head.

“So, what are you doing here?” he asked, setting the mug down.

“Sitting in on your class, obviously,” Cassie said, emphasizing obviously like Snape would, which made Remus laugh. “I have a free period, remember?”

“Oh, right,” Remus said, slipping on his coat. “Boggarts today.”

“So that’s what’s in the giant wardrobe,” Cassie said.

Remus nodded. “And Harry’s in this class.”

“And I assume you haven’t spoken to him yet?” Cassie asked.

“Nope,” Remus said.

Cassie sighed dramatically.

“Soon, I promise,” Remus said, holding up his pinky.

“Fine,” Cassie said, linking her pinky with his.

Remus had always stayed true to his pinky promises—ever since she was a little girl, they’d been doing them. Big promises, small promises, silly promises—it didn’t matter. If he gave his word with a pinky, it was as good as done.

Students had started trickling into the classroom, greeting them both with waves. Remus turned to Cassie. “Right—five minutes till class. And I mean this with the utmost love—just stay out of the way. They still have to learn.”

“Of course,” Cassie said, trying to sound compliant.

Remus raised an eyebrow skeptically.

“I will,” Cassie groaned, rolling her eyes.

That’s when Harry and Ron walked into the room.

“Cassie!” Ron called, waving.

“Hi, Cassie,” Harry said with a grin.

“Hey, guys,” Cassie replied, smiling.

“You in this class too?” Ron asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, just sitting in on Remus, making sure he’s a good teacher,” Cassie said, giving a playful shrug.

“And staying out of the way,” Remus added, resting a hand lightly on Cassie’s shoulder.

“He’s decided to be a naff today,” Cassie whispered, though she wasn’t exactly trying to keep it from Remus.

“All right,” Remus said, flicking his wand so a chair slid up next to the table that held the record player. “You’ll be over there for class.”

“What is this? Dirty Dancing?” Cassie asked, crossing her arms.

“No, but yes,” Remus replied, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “I’m putting Cassie in the corner. Now go on, get over there—I’m starting.”

With a wry eye roll Cassie made her way over and sat crossing a leg over her knee.

Remus clapped his hands once, drawing the class’s attention. “Right, everyone—over here. Clump together, if you would.” He herded them toward the wardrobe, which gave another violent shake, making the students eye it warily.

“Intriguing, isn’t it?” he said, almost cheerfully. “Would anyone like to venture a guess as to what’s inside?”

“That’s a Boggart, that is,” a boy near Harry spoke up.

“Very good, Mr. Thomas,” Remus said with a nod. “Now—can anyone tell us what a Boggart looks like?”

“No one knows,” Hermione answered, seemingly appearing at Ron's elbow. Cassie wasn’t even sure when she’d slipped in. “Boggarts are shape-shifters. They take the shape of whatever a person fears most. That’s what makes them so—”

“So terrifying, yes, yes, yes,” Remus cut in smoothly, just as the wardrobe gave another resounding thud. “Luckily, a very simple charm exists to repel a Boggart. Let’s practice it now—without wands, please. After me.”

Thud.

“Riddikulus!”

“Riddikulus,” the class echoed back.

“Very good. Louder, clearer—listen.” He lifted a finger. “Riddikulus.”

“Riddikulus!” the group chorused again, stronger this time.

“Excellent,” Remus said, smiling faintly. “Well—so much for the easy part. You see, the incantation alone won’t do it. What really finishes a Boggart is laughter. You need to force it into a shape you find truly amusing. Let me explain. Neville—will you join me, please?”

Thud.

Neville looked around, as if checking that Remus had really meant him.

“Come on, don’t be shy,” Remus encouraged, beckoning him forward with both hands. “Come on, come on.”

Neville eyed the rattling wardrobe, then shuffled forward, uneasily clutching his wand.

“Hello, Neville,” Remus said warmly. “What frightens you most of all?”

Neville stammered something under his breath.

“Sorry?” Remus leaned in.

“Professor Snape,” Neville said louder, his face pinking.

The class burst into good-natured laughter.

Remus nodded thoughtfully. “Professor Snape. Frightens all.” He bounced once on the balls of his feet, then added, “And I believe you live with your grandmother, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Neville admitted quickly. “But I don’t want the Boggart to turn into her either!”

The class laughed again, and even Cassie snorted softly from her corner.

“No, no, it won’t,” Remus assured him, glancing back at the wardrobe as it thudded once more. “I want you to picture her clothes, Neville. Only her clothes. Very clearly in your mind.”

“She carries a red handbag…” Neville started.

“We don’t need to hear,” Remus said with a small smile. “As long as you see it, we’ll all see it. Now—when I open that wardrobe, here’s what I want you to do…”

He leaned in, whispering something in Neville’s ear. Neville’s eyes widened.

“Can you do that?” Remus asked, then answered for him with brisk confidence: “Yes. Wand at the ready. One… two… three!”

With a low whistle, the wardrobe clicked unlocked and creaked open. From the shadows stepped Snape himself—hook-nosed, menacing, arms folded, glaring down at Neville.

“Think, Neville. Think!” Remus urged from just behind him.

Snape stalked forward, slamming the wardrobe door behind him.

Neville raised his wand. “R-Riddikulus!”

In an instant, Snape stumbled backwards—swallowed by a long green dress, topped with a ridiculous vulture hat, a fox fur draped around his shoulders, and a bright crimson handbag swinging at his side. Yellow stockings peeked from beneath the hem, ending in dainty ladies’ boots.

The class howled with laughter.

Neville blinked, then broke into a grin, shoulders squaring.

“Wonderful, Neville! Absolutely wonderful!” Remus praised, clapping him lightly on the back. “Alright, to the back. Everyone else, form a line.”

The students hurried to comply, excitement bubbling in their chatter.

“Now,” Remus continued, striding to the front, “I want each of you to picture the thing you fear most—and then turn it into something funny. Cassie—music, if you please.”

Cassie hopped up and dropped the record needle. After a scratch of static, jaunty swing filled the room—Hot Liquorice by Dick Walter.

“Perfect,” Remus said, nodding along. “Next—Ron!”

Ron froze, horrified, but shuffled reluctantly to the front as Remus guided him forward with a hand and wand point. Cassie leaned her chin into her hand, already entertained.

“Concentrate, Ron,” Remus urged. “Face your fear. Be brave.”

The Snape-in-grandmother’s-clothes dissolved into a whirling mass that shot forward, reshaping itself into a massive spider with gleaming legs.

Ron whimpered, stumbling back, but drew his wand shakily.

From Cassie’s corner, Remus leaned casually against her chair. “Wand at the ready, Ron. Wand at the ready!”

“That’s my ear, Moony,” Cassie muttered without looking up, swatting his elbow away.

“Riddikulus!” Ron bellowed, pointing.

In a flash, bright roller skates snapped onto each of the spider’s hairy legs. It immediately began to teeter and shuffle, sliding helplessly across the floor, its balance gone.

The class roared with laughter, and Ron, finally grinning, dropped his shoulders in relief.

Remus chuckled pointing "you see very good, very good. Marvelous. Absolutely, very very enjoyable. Next—Parvati,” Remus said, flicking his wand toward her.

Parvati stepped forward, her face pale but determined. The wardrobe gave another violent shudder before bursting open, and out slithered a massive hissing cobra, its hood flaring as it reared up to strike.

Cassie’s feet immediately pulled up onto the rungs of her chair.

he snake gave a lurch mid-strike, twisting and stretching unnaturally until it shot upward into a giant jack-in-the-box clown. Its springy body wobbled, its painted face grinning far too wide, swaying forward and backwards towards Parvati and away.

The class burst into relieved laughter, but Cassie scrunched her nose, still finding it rather unsettling.

Remus turned to her, giving her shoulder a light push. “They’re doing well, aren’t they?”

Cassie nodded, though her eyes flicked nervously toward the front. Harry was stepping up next. Both she and Remus watched him with a quiet, unspoken concern—what on earth would his boggart become?

The wardrobe shuddered, then split open. At once, the air grew colder. The shape twisted, darkened, and finally solidified into a dementor. Taller, darker, and infinitely more horrifying than the one on the train, it leaned toward Harry with a rattling breath.

Cassie didn’t even think—she leapt from her chair, only to slip on the polished wood and land hard on the floor. At the same moment, Remus lunged forward, planting himself between Harry and the boggart.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion.

“Here!” Remus shouted, arms spread wide, shielding Harry. From the floor, Cassie’s breath caught in her throat as the dementor wavered, then warped, its body dissolving into a rolling bank of dark clouds. The clouds swirled, parting to reveal a bright, shimmering white moon.

Cassie scrambled to her feet instantly, heart hammering.

“Riddikulus!” Remus cried, snapping his wand. The moon gave a ridiculous squeal, then deflated like a punctured balloon. It whizzed wildly around the room, bouncing off the walls as students ducked and yelped, until finally it zipped back into the wardrobe. The door slammed shut with a bang.

Harry remained frozen, still staring at the wardrobe, his knuckles white around his wand.

“Right, well,” Remus said, slightly breathless, trying to recover the moment. “Sorry about that. Uh—yes, that’s enough for today. If you’d all collect your books from the back, that’ll be the end of the lesson. Thank you.”

The class groaned in protest, muttering as they shuffled toward the back, though Remus added apologetically, “Sorry, sorry—go on. You can have too much of a good thing.”

Behind him, Harry lingered, motionless, before he finally turned and left in silence.

Cassie dragged herself back over to the chair and dropped into it with a sigh. Remus shut the classroom door, then turned, scrubbing a weary hand down his face.

“That could not have gone worse,” he muttered, leaning against the wall beside her.

“It was good until the end,” Cassie said quickly. “It was very good.”

“Till the dementor,” Remus said flatly.

Cassie was quiet a moment.

“And you?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“The moon.”

Remus sighed, shoulders sinking. “Fine… y’know, that was the first moon I’ve seen with my own eyes in close to twenty-nine years.”

Cassie pressed her lips together, words caught in her throat.

Remus cleared his throat, forcing a lighter note. “Whaddaya say we go to lunch early?”

“Let’s do it.” Cassie stood, and together they headed for the door. Remus held it open for her.

As they walked into the corridor, Cassie glanced up at him. “Did you see me eat shit?”

Remus burst out laughing. “Yes.”

---

7. Up Till Dawn Dawn Dawn (Dun Dun Dun)

The weeks after the start of term passed in a blur of lessons, shifting weather, and the steady rhythm of castle life. September melted into October with the easy slide of parchment across desks, the scratch of quills, and the clatter of cauldrons in dungeons. Cassie found herself juggling her time between classes, prefect duties, and the long afternoons Madam Pomfrey set aside for her training.

Snape remained infuriatingly consistent: every potion Cassie brewed was marked “acceptable” or “admirable,” never “outstanding,” no matter how carefully she chopped or stirred. In the hospital wing, however, Pomfrey was more generous, praising her steady wandwork on healing charms and letting her prepare salves with only minimal supervision.

The air had turned sharp and crisp, autumn leaves scudding across the courtyards like scatterings of gold and rust. By late October, the castle was buzzing with talk of the first Hogsmeade weekend of the year, with promises of sweets, butterbeer, and freedom from the castle walls.

On Halloween morning, Cassie and Lyra were in their dormitory, tugging on scarves and chattering about everything they’d do once they reached the village, when a sharp crack broke their rhythm.

Lyra had smacked her palm against her forehead. “Oh, bugger,” she groaned.

Cassie blinked. “What?”

Lyra dropped onto the edge of her bed. “I never turned in a signed slip. Not that my parents would’ve signed it anyway.”

Cassie’s heart pinched. “We could ask Remus,” she said gently, stepping closer. “I’m sure he’d sign it for you.”

Lyra shook her head, giving a halfhearted smile. “S’fine. We’ll go next time.”

Cassie nodded and set a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Next time,” she assured her. Then, with a spark of mischief, she added, “But today—what d’you say we roam the empty corridors of the castle?”

Lyra’s smile reached her eyes. After a beat, she nodded. “Let’s go, then.”

Lyra followed Cassie down the stone steps and into the common room. The sight that met them was nothing short of dazzling. Pumpkins had been tucked into every available corner, some stacked in little towers, others bewitched to drift lazily above their heads. Every so often, a golden leaf would spiral down from nowhere, vanish before touching the floor, and reappear again high above. The common room always had a warm, inviting glow, but today it shimmered with something extraordinary.

It wasn’t entirely empty—clusters of younger students lingered near the fire, playing chess or whispering in low voices. The hearth blazed cheerfully, radiating a warmth Cassie and Lyra could feel even as they walked past.

As always, Cassie’s gaze slid to the bulletin board, more out of habit than curiosity. The Gryffindor team announcement and the schedule for practices and matches had been pinned there since tryouts, parchment curling at the corners. But something new had caught her eye—a flyer so brightly colored it nearly shouted for attention:

Fred and George Weasley’s Wonderfully Wicked Halloween Party!
Pumpkin carving contest! Costume contest! Tricks, treats, and prizes!
Tonight, in the Gryffindor common room—be sure to dress your best.

Lyra’s eyes lit up as she read the flyer. “Can we go?” she asked, practically bouncing on her toes.

Cassie hesitated. “Maybe.”

“Come on, Cass, please?” Lyra pressed, giving her best pleading look.

Cassie frowned a little. “I don’t know… tomorrow’s Monday. We’ve got class.”

Lyra tilted her head. “Will you at least think about it?”

“I’ll think about it,” Cassie promised.

The two girls slipped out of the common room and began wandering toward the clock tower, the castle corridors quiet and empty in the early morning. The stone walls glimmered faintly in the soft light of enchanted sconces, casting dancing shadows that flickered like tiny ghosts. Faint echoes of footsteps and distant laughter carried down the hallways.

Cassie glanced up at the high windows, where pale sunlight streamed through, catching dust motes that floated lazily like tiny sparks in the air. “Have you been up to the Owlery yet?” she asked.

Lyra shook her head, eyes tracing the curling autumn leaves pinned magically to the walls. “Haven’t needed to.”

Cassie grinned, brushing her hand against the cool stone banister. “Wanna go check it out?”

Lyra shrugged, her gaze lingering on a row of enchanted portraits that winked and whispered as they passed. “Why not?”

The girls made their way down to the first floor and into the clock tower in the south wing of the castle. It wasn’t a long walk from the Gryffindor common room—just a few flights of stairs and several window-lined corridors.

Upon entering the tower, they were greeted by a wash of natural light streaming through a large stained-glass window on the far stone wall, opposite the door that led to the courtyard. But the most striking feature—both surprising and somehow perfectly fitting—was the massive pendulum swinging slowly from the ceiling, stretching to just a few feet above their heads.

“Not sure what I expected from the clock tower, but it wasn’t that,” Cassie said, eyes wide as she took in the massive pendulum.

“I guess it makes sense… but why is it so close?” Lyra asked, her gaze following the pendulum as it swung rhythmically back and forth.

“All right, I’ve seen enough,” Cassie said, grabbing Lyra’s wrist and already hauling her toward the door ahead. Pushing it open, they stepped out into the courtyard, immediately in front of the giant well and fountain at its center. Cassie released Lyra’s hand and began digging in her pocket.

Lyra pulled out two Galleons and handed one to Cassie. She stepped closer to the well, shut her eyes, and tossed her coin in. Cassie followed suit, closing her eyes and letting her own Galleon clink into the depths.

“So… what did you wish for?” Lyra asked, turning toward the wooden bridge.

“You’re the one who provided the wish coins,” Cassie replied, falling into step beside her. “I’d assume you know that saying a wish out loud pretty much means it won't come true."

“I was just thinking you’d tell me yours in exchange for hearing mine, but… I’m just going to tell you mine anyway,” Lyra said, glancing up at Cassie with a sheepish smile.

Cassie raised an eyebrow. “Okay?”

Lyra bit her lip, looking away for a moment before shrugging.

“What? Tell me!” Cassie laughed, nudging her lightly.

“Well… it’s a bit childish, but… I don’t want to tell you now,” Lyra murmured, cheeks tinged pink.

“You’re such a tease, Rosie,” Cassie said, shoving her gently.

Lyra laughed and finally relented. “All right, fine! I wished that George would make a move.”

Cassie’s eyes widened in mock seriousness. “Well, it’s no secret he fancies you.”

“You keep saying that—”

“He quite literally swept you off your feet last month when he swooped in and pulled you onto his broom,” Cassie pointed out, grinning.

“That did feel… different,” Lyra admitted, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

“He definitely has a thing for you,” Cassie said, falling into step beside her. “You could always make the first move too, because right now it’s this painful back-and-forth that I’m stuck watching.”

Lyra bumped her with her hip. “You’re so annoying.”

Cassie laughed. “Sounds like I’ll be getting my money.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lyra asked, raising an eyebrow, before looking back out at the Scottish highlands.

“Well…” Cassie began, trying to keep a straight face. “I may or may not have a bet going with Fred on how soon you and George will become an item.”

Lyra whipped her head toward Cassie. “You’re betting on my relationship that isn’t a relationship?”

“Yup,” Cassie said with a smug nod.

“With Fred?! I thought you hated him!” Lyra exclaimed.

“I have deep disdain for him, yes,” Cassie admitted, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t bet with him… a bet I’m winning, by the way.”

Lyra shook her head, laughing. “You’re ridiculous.”

Cassie just grinned and laughed with her, the bridge echoing with the sound of their amusement as the autumn wind swirled leaves around their feet.

Leaving the bridge behind, Cassie and Lyra veered to the right, following the winding path up to the Owlery. They crossed a stone bridge that arched over a small waterfall, the water sparkling as it tumbled into the stream below. The sound of rushing water mingled with the rustle of autumn leaves underfoot, filling the air with a crisp, lively energy.

The girls climbed the stone steps that curved around the base of the tower, muscles protesting with each step. When they finally reached the entrance to the Owlery, they paused, gasping for breath.

“Ju-just… gimme a… minute,” Cassie huffed, doubled over as if she’d just run a mile.

Lyra flopped down onto a flat rock nearby, giving Cassie a tired thumbs-up, panting aswell.

Once their breaths evened out, they stepped into the Owlery, the cool air brushing against their flushed faces as they began the spiral staircase.

“This,” Lyra huffed, gripping the railing, “was a bad idea, Cass.”

“We would’ve been wandering around Hogsmeade for hours doing basically the same thing,” Cassie countered.

“It’s a little village, Cassie. We wouldn’t be going uphill,” Lyra protested, wobbling slightly with each step.

“Well,” Cassie said, peeking over the railing, “we’ll be able to see a lot from up here.”

Lyra shot her a mock glare, puffing out her cheeks. “If this isn’t good, I swear I’m throwing you off the tower.”

Cassie gave her a playful glare.

When the girls reached the top, they found the Owlery far less magical than they’d imagined—yet somehow exactly what one might expect. Dozens upon dozens of owls perched along the rafters and window ledges, their golden eyes following the girls’ every move. Feathers drifted lazily through the air like snowflakes, and the sharp scent of owl pellets mixed with the damp chill of stone filled the space.

Cassie brushed a stray feather from her shoulder. “Well, it’s… atmospheric,” she said diplomatically.

“Atmospheric?” Lyra repeated, stepping carefully to avoid a rather unpleasant-looking pile near her boot. “It’s disgusting, Cass.”

One of the owls hooted indignantly, as if taking offense.

Cassie smirked. “I think you’ve hurt its feelings.”

Lyra rolled her eyes but smiled all the same. “You owe me butterbeer for this.”

“Deal,” Cassie said, grinning as she glanced toward the open windows. A cool breeze tugged at her hair, carrying the scent of autumn up from the grounds below.

“Right, can we go?” Lyra asked. “Quicker, preferably.”

Cassie nodded. “Yup. Merlin, I wish we were of age so we could Apparate.”

“What’s that?” Lyra asked, already hurrying down the stairs.

“Sort of like teleportation,” Cassie explained, following after her.

“That’s bloody cool,” Lyra said.

“I know,” Cassie replied. “We could be back in the dorm by now instead of trekking all the way down.”

“At least we’re going downhill this time,” Lyra said.

“True, true,” Cassie agreed with a grin.

Finally, they made it back down from the Owlery and veered toward the Quidditch pitch, planning to loop back into the castle.

“You know,” Lyra said, kicking at a stray leaf that skittered across the path, “all this wizard slang really confused me when I first came.”

“Did it?” Cassie asked, tilting her head.

Lyra nodded and let out a soft laugh. “Merlin’s beard… I didn’t even know who Merlin was. Sheltered girl gets thrown into the craziest place ever, knowing absolutely nothing.”

“When did you know you were magical?” Cassie asked.

“When I was eleven,” Lyra said, stepping on another leaf that crunched beneath her foot. “I made the lights flicker in the whole house when I got mad—my mum probably yelled or sent me to my room. After that, I started doing it for fun: making the lamps flicker, plates float at dinner… they didnt like that, and so I ended up in a mental correctional facility. It never worked, of course. Eventually, they just… abandoned me. Didn’t provide for me. I’m convinced they never liked me.”

“Was it just you?” Cassie asked quietly.

Lyra let out a soft, bitter laugh. “No, I have a brother—Liam. He’s always been my parents’ angel child; he could do no wrong while I was the problem. But he was also my best friend… my biggest supporter, no matter what. He was always there for me.” She hesitated, her voice lowering. “He’s only nine. The only comfort I have is knowing he’s being cared for and that he’s safe.”

Cassie’s chest tightened. “I’m really sorry, Lyra.”

“Me too,” Lyra said softly, her gaze drifting toward the rippling lake. “But if I’m being honest, Hogwarts has completely changed my life. A few years ago, when I was just getting the letters, I was curious—but actually being here…” She trailed off, smiling faintly. “It’s a whole new world. It feels like home, y’know? I’ve never felt more welcome—or more myself—than I do here.”

Cassie nodded, her eyes following the shimmer of sunlight across the water. “I grew up with stories about this place, but being here now—experiencing it for real—it’s… surreal.”

The girls made their way back across the Hogwarts grounds, their conversation flowing easily, laughter echoing off the stone walls as they climbed through the castle corridors.

“Fortuna Major,” Cassie said to the Fat Lady’s portrait. With a swing and a creak, the portrait opened, and they stepped into the common room—still mid-laugh—until Cassie’s voice faltered.

Harry was sitting on the couch, turned completely toward her, watching.

“You’re my cousin,” he said flatly, though his tone was unreadable.

“Harry—” Cassie started, moving toward him. “I wanted to tell you, really. It just never felt like the right—”

Before she could finish, Harry crossed the space and pulled her into a hug.

“You’re my cousin,” he said again, this time his voice softer, almost disbelieving.

Cassie hesitated, then slowly wrapped her arms around him.

“I didn’t think—didn’t know I had family still,” Harry murmured into her shoulder.

Cassie smiled faintly and shut her eyes, resting her cheek against the side of his head. “I wanted to tell you, but Remus made me wait—so I reckon he spoke to you,” she said softly, pulling back to look at him.

Harry nodded. “He said he was really close with my mum… and my aunt.”

“My mum,” Cassie said with a small smile. “The Evans girls.”

She felt Lyra step up beside her, quiet but present.

“He also talked to me about the boggart,” Harry continued, shaking his head slightly. “But that’s not important. Merlin, I have… I have you now.”

“Well, I’m glad we didn’t go to Hogsmeade,” Cassie joked, turning to Lyra.

“What a lovely little reunion,” Lyra said with a bright smile.

“I want to hear everything I’ve missed,” Cassie said turning back to Harry, already making her way to the couch.

“Me too,” Harry agreed, following after her.

Lyra tagged along, settling beside Cassie as Harry began to speak.

He started with the Dursleys—Petunia and Vernon—their aunt and uncle who had been awful to him for years.

“They hate anything magic,” Harry said. “They were forced to care for me—if you can even call it that—but they never told me a thing about you or your parents.”

“Figures,” Cassie muttered. “Remus told me they probably never said anything about us Larks.”

“I’d expect nothing less of them,” Harry said bitterly.

The conversation shifted to Cassie. She told Harry about her parents being taken by Snatchers, and how Remus took her in without hesitation. It was a story she’d told a thousand times, but somehow it felt different sharing it with Harry.

“So our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is your godfather?” Harry asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

Cassie nodded. “And a bloody good one at that.”

“Did… did you know them?” Harry asked quietly. “My parents?”

Cassie’s expression softened. “I met them twelve years ago—today, actually,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. From the look on Harry’s face, she could tell he’d just realized the date too.

“I was there that night in Godric’s Hollow,” Cassie continued gently. “I met your parents—my aunt and uncle—but you were upstairs, fast asleep. I remember wanting to meet you so badly.”

Cassie remembered the crisp chill of Halloween night, the smell of woodsmoke and fallen leaves curling through the quiet village. She sat perched on Sirius’s shoulders, her small hands tangled in his hair as she patted the top of his head like he was some kind of tall, scruffy horse. Remus walked beside them, his breath forming soft clouds in the air. Cassie kept giggling every time she exhaled, delighted by the wisps of white that bloomed and vanished in front of her face. The night was cold, but it felt alive—warm laughter, crunching leaves under boots, and the comforting murmur of the two men who had become her whole world.

The Lark house sat just beside the Potters’ — their chimneys almost touching, the gardens divided by a short, ivy-covered wall. They’d come that night to say hello… and to gather the last of Cassie’s things.

Inside the Potter cottage, everything had felt warm and alive — laughter, the faint crackle of a fire, Lily humming somewhere in the kitchen. Cassie remembered Lily’s red hair glinting in the candlelight and James crouching down to grin at her.

“She’s getting so big,” James said, mussing her curls.

“Too clever for her own good.” Sirius teased, giving her a wink.

Remus chuckled softly, though there was a tiredness in his eyes that Cassie was too young to understand then.

After a bit of chatting — promises to meet in the morning, good-natured teasing between the Marauders — they’d said goodnight. Remus carried Cassie next door while Sirius lingered behind, saying he’d join them in a minute.

The Lark home felt hollow without her parents, but Remus had always been careful to make it feel safe. He’d placed a silencing charm over the walls — “just so you can sleep easy, pup,” he’d said — a small ritual he never skipped.

After a string of long, dramatic goodnights from Sirius—each one louder than the last as Remus tried to usher him out—Cassie finally curled up beneath her blankets in the upstairs bedroom. The soft hum of the silencing charm wrapped around the house like a lullaby, steady and soothing. Her eyelids grew heavy as the wind whispered outside, and she drifted off, unaware that just beyond the garden wall, in the house next door, everything was about to change forever.

When she woke the next morning, Sirius was gone. Remus’s face was pale, drawn tight like he hadn’t slept. He told her they had to leave—now. There was no time to ask why. He bundled her up, and they left Godric’s Hollow behind.

Cassie never saw that village again.

“Remus wanted to take you,” Cassie thought, the words pressing on her tongue—but she knew better.

Before she could say anything, the portrait hole swung open and a burst of chatter filled the common room. The Gryffindors who had gone to Hogsmeade spilled in, cheeks flushed pink from the cold, arms weighed down with bags from the shops.

When Hermione and Ron spotted the three on the couch, they hurried over. Hermione greeted the girls warmly while Ron dropped a bulging paper bag straight into Harry’s lap.

“There you go,” Ron said proudly. “We got as much as we could carry.”

“Thanks,” Harry said, already picking up a small packet of Pepper Imps.

“You two look like you had the time of your lives,” Cassie said, grinning as she sifted through the pile for something she might like.

“What’s Hogsmeade like? Where did you go?” Lyra asked eagerly, leaning forward.

Hermione began listing on her fingers. “Dervish and Banges, Zonko’s Joke Shop, the Three Broomsticks for hot butterbeer, Honeydukes of course—oh! And the post office, Harry!” she added, eyes bright. “About two hundred owls, all sitting on shelves, color-coded depending on how fast you want your letter to get there!”

Cassie laughed. “Sounds like you were everywhere today.”

Ron nodded enthusiastically. “We think we saw an ogre—honestly, they get all sorts at the Three Broomsticks.”

“Wish we could’ve brought you some butterbeer,” he added. “Really warms you up. What did you lot get up to?” Hermione asked. “Did you get any work done?”

“No, Hermione, I did not get any work done,” Harry said flatly, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at his mouth as he tore open a Chocolate Frog box.

Ron snorted. “Didn’t think so.”

Cassie smirked. “To be fair, neither did we. But we did have quite the adventure without ever leaving the grounds.”

“Oh,” Harry said, sitting up a little straighter. “I did speak with Professor Lupin.”

“About the boggart?” Hermione asked quickly, leaning in with that familiar worried look she’d worn ever since the lesson.

“Well, yes,” Harry said, then glanced at Cassie. “But what took up most of our conversation was about my family.”

Ron, halfway through a Chocolate Frog, blinked. “Did he know them or something?”

“Oh, he knew them,” Harry said with a small smile. “He was close with my mum—and my aunt.”

“Like your Aunt Petunia?” Hermione asked, incredulous.

Harry chuckled and shook his head. “No. I found out my mum had another sister—Elodie.” He turned to Cassie, meeting her eyes.

“My mum,” Cassie said quietly, looking between them.

Hermione’s eyes widened, her expression softening into a delighted smile. “Oh… that’s wonderful!” she breathed.

Ron blinked, pointing a chocolatey finger at Cassie. “Hang on—she’s your cousin?”

“That she is,” Harry said with a grin, clearly still getting used to the sound of it.

“Familyyy,” Cassie said in an exaggerated, high-pitched voice, drawing out the word with a grin of her own.

They all laughed, the sound echoing warmly through the common room.

Hermione checked her watch. “We’d better go down, the feast’ll be starting in five minutes…”

Harry jumped up and dashed to his dorm to stash the sweets, while the rest of them waited, joking quietly as he returned. Soon, the five of them hurried through the portrait hole together, slipping into the bustling crowd of students in the Great Hall.

Upon arriving at the Great Hall, they found it transformed into a glowing masterpiece of autumn and magic. Pumpkins of every size filled the room—stacked in corners, lined along the tables, and floating in midair, their carved faces flickering with candlelight. Real bats swooped lazily beneath the enchanted ceiling, which churned with thunderclouds lit by flashes of distant lightning. The air smelled faintly of cinnamon and wax.

Cassie couldn’t help but smile; it felt like stepping into a dream. Still, as she watched the bats glide and dip, she thought about how long it had been since she’d flown herself. The thought tugged at her chest, soft and familiar.

As they neared the Gryffindor table, Cassie turned to Lyra. “I’ll be right back. Haven’t seen Remus all day—going to talk to him for a minute.”

Lyra smiled. “We’ll be here,” she said, slipping into the seat next to George.

Cassie turned toward the front of the Hall—and froze. “Boo!” Fred’s voice rang out, and there he was, towering in front of her with his hands curled like claws.

Cassie jumped, her heart leaping, then spun to glare at him once she regained her senses.

“What?” Fred said innocently, hands still raised. “Just getting into the Halloween spirit.”

“I’ll show you Halloween spirit,” Cassie muttered, nudging past him toward the staff table.

Remus looked up and smirked as she approached.

“What?” she grumbled, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice.

“He really is relentless,” Remus said with a teasing lilt.

“Relentless,” Cassie repeated, rolling her eyes but unable to hide the hint of a smile.

“Has Harry spoken to you yet?” Remus asked, his tone gentle but curious.

Cassie nodded, her smile broadening. “We talked, yes. I wasn’t sure how he’d feel at first, but he seemed… happy to know he has family.”

Remus glanced over her shoulder at Harry, and Cassie followed his gaze. Harry was laughing, eating, and genuinely happy—light spilling from him in a way that made her chest warm.

That’s when Fred caught her eye. She shot him a glare before swiveling back to Remus, who had clearly noticed.

“Relentless,” Cassie muttered again. “I just want to get in his head, y’know? Figure out what’s going on in there—and what drives him to make it his life’s mission to irritate me.”

Remus sighed. “When I first met… Pads,” he whispered the last part, wary of prying ears, “I met him on the train. The minute I heard his high-class, posh accent, I wanted nothing to do with him.”

“Not like you were the most open eleven-year-old ever,” Cassie teased.

Remus ignored her. “He was spoiled, loud, and irritating… not someone I’d naturally like.”

“So when did you become friends?” Cassie asked, brow raised.

Remus paused, thinking. “I think it was when I got in a fight with a Slytherin and planned… revenge. That’s when the pranks started. Over time, we got closer—and eventually became friends.”

Cassie laughed. “If you’re telling me to pull a prank… you’re mad.”

Remus chuckled. “No, that’s not what I meant. But you’re always around each other, yes?”

“It’s just… because Lyra fancies George, we’re kind of forced to be close all the time,” Cassie said, rolling her eyes.

“You’ll be friends one day,” Remus said with a wink. “I’m sure of it.”

Cassie turned away, shuddering at the thought. Never happening, she told herself firmly.

She made her way back to the table; Hermione scooted over to make room. Cassie smiled thanks, then fell silent for the rest of dinner — not because she was sulking, but because she hadn’t realised how hungry she was and was now terrifically, unapologetically chowing down.

“Someone’s hungry,” Fred teased, watching her shovel in another spoonful.

Cassie pointed her spoon at him, cheeks ballooned with mashed potato. “I am going to stuff your head in a pumpkin,” she mumbled around her mouthful, which only made Fred grin wider.

The feast wound down with the Hogwarts ghosts floating through the Hall, weaving between walls and tables in a sort of chaotic, synchronized flight. Nearly Headless Nick made a dramatic (and slightly grisly) recreation of his own beheading, wobbly head and all. It was strange, a little eerie, and entirely entertaining all at once.

Fred and George bolted from the Hall the moment the ghostly spectacle ended, shouting quick goodbyes over their shoulders as they went—no doubt off to set up for their Halloween party.

The girls left with Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Dean Thomas, joining the steady stream of students heading back upstairs. The corridors buzzed with chatter about the twins’ party—everyone seemed to be talking about it, thrilled that not just Gryffindors, but Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were invited too.

But as they rounded the last staircase, the mood shifted. A crowd had gathered in front of the Gryffindor common room.

“What’s going on?” Harry asked.

Ron scoffed. “Probably Neville’s forgotten the password again.”

“Hey!” Neville called from the back of the group.

“Oh—you’re there,” Ron said, surprised.

“Uh—let me through, please. Excuse me, I’m Head Boy!” someone shouted from the second flight of stairs, pushing through the throng of students.

Ron groaned.

“Get back! All of you! No one is to enter this dormitory until it has been fully searched!” the boy barked.

“Merlin, he is such a prat,” Ron muttered.

“Is he another one of your brothers?” Lyra asked.

“Sadly,” Ron sighed.

That’s when a young girl came running from the crowd toward their small group.

“And that’s my sister,” Ron added.

“There’s a lot of you,” Cassie said under her breath.

“The Fat Lady—she’s gone!” the young girl exclaimed, eyes wide.

Ron scoffed. “Serves her right. She was a terrible singer.”

Everyone craned their necks to see. When Cassie’s eyes found the portrait, she suppressed a gasp—there were deep claw marks slashed across the canvas, and the Fat Lady was nowhere to be seen.

“It’s not funny, Ron,” Hermione chastised him.

The surrounding portraits were just as confused. The air filled with the sounds of crying babies, laughter, and shrill, nervous chatter from painted figures rushing between frames.

“Ravenclaws—back to your common room!” the Head Boy ordered in his superior tone. “All quiet!”

The students on the stairs parted as Filch, the grizzled caretaker, rasped, “Come on, move!” and Dumbledore swept up the staircase.

Dumbledore stopped before the shredded portrait, his expression grave. He raised his hand, gently touching the torn fabric as though piecing the scene together.

He turned, his eyes somber, just as Professors McGonagall, Remus, and Snape arrived at his side.

“Mr. Filch,” Dumbledore said calmly, “round up the ghosts. Tell them to search every painting in the castle for the Fat Lady.”

He nodded to the teachers, who immediately began scanning the nearby portraits.

Filch, who had been peering upward, rasped, “There’s no need for ghosts, Professor.” He lifted a crooked finger. “The Fat Lady’s there!”

All the students gasped, then broke into a scramble toward where Filch was pointing.

Cassie hung back, her gaze darting over the chaos. When her eyes met Remus’s, there was a moment of silent understanding between them. Neither spoke.

They both turned back toward the shredded portrait, then followed the crowd up the stairs.

“Dear lady, who did this to you?” Dumbledore asked gently, his tone threaded with concern.

The Fat Lady peeked out from behind a painted hippopotamus in a sunlit savannah, her face pale and trembling.

“Eyes like the devil, he’s got—and a soul as dark as his name,” she whimpered, voice quivering. “It’s him, Headmaster. The one they all talk about. He’s here… somewhere in the castle. Sirius Black!”

She let out a shriek and disappeared once more behind the painted beast.

Cassie’s stomach dropped. It was exactly what she had feared.

“Secure the castle, Mr. Filch,” Dumbledore ordered, his voice suddenly firm. “The rest of you—to the Great Hall.”

Down in the Great Hall, Gryffindor was soon joined by the other Houses—Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and even Slytherin—each group buzzing with confusion and worry.

“Hey, what happened?” Ernie suddenly appeared at Cassie’s side, looking anxious.

“Ernie, hi,” Cassie said, brushing her hair back and glancing toward the staff table. “Um—how do I put this lightly? Sirius Black is in the castle.”

Ernie blinked. “Oh,” was all he managed. “Right. Yes. Of course.”

Before Cassie could say more, Dumbledore’s voice echoed across the hall, instantly silencing the noise.

“We must conduct a search of the castle,” he said gravely, as several professors moved to close and lock the massive doors. “I’m afraid that, for your own safety, you will have to spend the night here.”

He turned toward the students. “Prefects will stand guard over the entrances to the hall, and I am leaving the Head Boy and Girl in charge. Any disturbance should be reported to me immediately.”

Percy puffed up with importance, his chest swelling as Dumbledore continued, “Send word with one of the ghosts.”

The Headmaster paused, then added with a faint, almost weary smile, “Oh, yes—you’ll be needing…”

With a casual wave of his wand, the long tables soared gracefully to the edges of the room, pressing themselves against the walls. Another wave, and the stone floor shimmered, suddenly covered in hundreds of squashy purple sleeping bags.

“Sleep well,” said Professor Dumbledore, his voice soft but firm as he stepped through the doors, closing them behind him.

Some students had already settled onto the sleeping bags, quietly chatting about the much-anticipated—and now canceled—Halloween party, while others huddled together, worried and seeking comfort from friends.

Harry, Hermione, Ron, Lyra, Fred, and George lingered in a small group, their voices low. Harry looked particularly concerned. Cassie tugged gently on Lyra’s arm, pulling her aside for a moment.

“I have to go stand guard,” she said, pointing toward one of the hall entrances. “I’ll be right over there. Come get me if you need me.”

Lyra nodded and turned back to the group, while Cassie started walking toward an entrance with Ernie.

Cassie leaned against the stone wall near the entrance, keeping one eye on the hall while Ernie joined her, shifting nervously from foot to foot.

“Crazy night, huh?” Ernie said, trying to keep his voice light.

“You could say that,” Cassie replied, folding her arms. “I don’t think I ever expected this—but on Halloween, funnily enough, it’s fitting.”

Ernie nodded. “Yeah… I was really looking forward to the twins’ Halloween party too.” His eyes flicked toward the other students, then back to Cassie. “I had this brilliant costume planned.”

“Oh yeah?” Cassie asked, raising an eyebrow. “Tell me, Macmillan, what was this bloody brilliant costume?”

“It was going to be a surprise,” he said with a small shrug, “but since it’s not even happening anymore, I guess I’ll tell you. Being a Hufflepuff means owning a shite ton of black and yellow, so naturally… I was going to be a bee.”

Cassie laughed. “A bee?!”

“Yes, a bee,” Ernie said, smirking. “Is that funny now, Lark?”

“Yes, it is—funny and ironic,” Cassie replied. “I was going to be a ladybug. We’d practically be matching.”

“You’re serious?” Ernie asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, silly. I’m Cassie,” she said, teasing lightly, though the situation in the castle was far from ideal.

“Ha ha. Very funny,” Ernie said, deadpan.

Cassie gave a dramatic bow. “Why, thank you.”

“Alright, jokes aside—next year then. Bee and ladybug,” Ernie said, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Deal,” Cassie said, grinning.

As the pair talked, they gradually sank closer to the floor until, eventually, they were slumped back-to-back on the cobbled stone, talking drowsily and becoming slap-happy into the wee hours of the night. The castle was quiet—but not eerily so—and it felt more like a huge sleepover in the Great Hall than anything else. Cassie wasn’t sure what time it was when sleep finally claimed her, her head resting on her arms, knees curled into her chest. Ernie leaned against her back, snoring softly beneath the starry, enchanted ceiling, the soft glow of floating candles casting a gentle warmth over the scene.

Chapter Text

1. An Unexpected Visitor

August 7th 1993

The Yorkshire countryside was quiet that morning, dew still clinging to the grass around the crooked little cottage. Inside, Cassie pressed a cool cloth to the fresh gash across Remus’s shoulder. He winced, but the corner of his mouth tugged into a smile.

“Not too bad last night. This one happened when you couldn’t see me,” she said, tugging her wand from the loop she’d stitched into her trousers—a small modification she’d made so she could keep it close at hand.

Remus let out a tired sigh. “It still amazes me you did that.”

“Did what?” Cassie asked, flicking her wand. Gauze wound itself neatly around his shoulder.

“Kept a mandrake leaf in your mouth for a month. Sat straight through an electrical storm. Endured pain most grown wizards wouldn’t dare. And studied the process until you fell asleep on your books.” Remus ticked them off like items on a parchment, his tone half-admonishing, half-amused.

Cassie rolled her eyes as she gathered up the gauze and damp cloth. “You make it sound so much worse than it was. If the Marauders could do it, why couldn’t I?”

Remus chuckled. “Merlin, ‘the Marauders’ sounds so cheesy now.”

Cassie laughed too, tossing the cloth into the sink. “Who even came up with it?” she asked, dragging out the chair beside him and sinking into it.

Remus’s smile faltered. He swallowed, eyes shifting away. “Sirius,” he muttered.

Cassie tilted her head, a sigh slipping past her lips. The look she gave him was equal parts exasperation and concern. “Moony…”

Remus hummed, finally turning back to her.

“I know what he did was unforgivable,” she said, her voice soft, careful not to upset him, “but it’s been twelve years.”

Remus’s jaw tightened. “He’s the reason they’re dead. He’s the reason you never got to meet your cousin, your aunt, your uncle. And what if…” His voice broke slightly before he forced himself to finish. “What if he was connected to your parents, too?”

Cassie’s breath caught. That was something she hadn’t considered.

“You knew him,” she said, meeting his eyes.

“Not as much as I thought,” Remus admitted, his voice low.

For a few moments, the cottage was silent. Sunlight pooled on the worn wooden floor, and the faint smell of herbs lingered in the air.

“I assessed everything. That gash is all that’s there,” she said quietly. “Let me know if you need anything, but what you need most is sleep.”

Remus smiled at her. “As do you. Dark circles, Miss Great-Eared Nightjar,” he teased.

Cassie batted his hand away. “I was eleven, Moony. It was the only animal that looked even remotely like a dragon without actually being one.”

Remus lifted his hands in mock surrender, a grin tugging at his lips. “It’s cool, I swear.”

Cassie smirked. “Well, it’s not like I can change it now. Better than a scruffy old wolf-man,” she teased.

He pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. “This scruffy old wolf has kept you fed, clothed, and trained in more defensive charms than most Aurors know.”

Cassie grinned. “And I’m eternally grateful. But you’ll never win a contest of majestic Animagi, Moony. Sorry.”

Remus gave a long-suffering sigh, though his eyes crinkled with amusement. “Merlin help me, you sound more like James every day.”

“Good. Someone’s got to keep you from brooding.”

Remus shook his head, chuckling under his breath. “Merlin, you’re insufferable.”

“And you,” she said, standing and brushing off her hands, “are exhausted. Bed. Now.”

“I’m fine,” Remus tried, but when he reached for the cane propped against the chair, the stiffness in his movements betrayed him.

Cassie was already there, slipping an arm under his and steadying him as he rose. “Fine, huh?” she teased gently.

He gave her a wry look as he leaned on the cane. “All right, maybe not fine. Just… mostly fine.”

“Mm-hm. And mostly fine still needs sleep.” She guided him toward the hall, her tone mock-stern. “Healer’s orders.”

Remus allowed himself to be steered, a small smile lingering on his face. “Bossy. Just like your mother.”

Cassie bit the inside of her cheek, warmth and ache tangled together in her chest. “Then I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It is,” Remus said softly. “You’re the perfect mix of your mum, your dad… and Lily.”

“And you,” Cassie added without hesitation.

He huffed a laugh. “Don’t flatter me.”

Cassie arched a brow at him. “Remus, you’ve raised me for twelve years. Did you really think I wouldn’t pick up some of you along the way?”

Remus shook his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth despite himself. “Merlin help you, then.”

Arriving at the narrow hallway between their rooms, Cassie gestured toward Remus’s. “Sleep, Moony,” she said gently.

He gave her a tired smile, eyes already heavy. “You sound more like your mother every day.”

Cassie lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching him settle under the blankets before quietly pulling the door closed.

She turned back, slipping into her own room, the soft creak of the floorboards the only sound in the quiet cottage.

Cassie’s room was a cozy chaos of color and memory, the kind of space that felt completely her own. Her bed sat in the center, draped with a patchwork quilt she had stitched herself, each square a tiny story. To the right of the doorway stood a small dresser, its top crowded with trinkets, old photographs—some moving, some still—and the occasional odd charm she’d picked up along the way.

In the left corner, a towering wall-mounted bookcase leaned just slightly, groaning under the weight of countless books; one more volume and it might topple entirely. Her night table was no more than a precarious stack of books beside the bed, each one serving double duty as decoration and bedside reading.

Her walls were a gallery of her own paintings, interspersed with strings of fairy lights that cast a warm, twinkling glow. Paper butterflies—cut from old book pages— band posters and polaroids fluttered across the surfaces, adding to the eclectic charm. A record player perched on a side table, with its collection of records stacked neatly in storage below, ready to fill the room with music at a moment’s notice.

To the right of her bed, a small desk was a hive of healing supplies: jars of herbs, bundles of dried plants, and open encyclopedias stacked on the floor and the desk alike, a testament to the care she poured into her work. Every inch of the room whispered of her curiosity, her creativity, and the life she had built for herself in the little Yorkshire cottage.

Sighing at the sight of her bed, Cassie let herself flop face-first onto it. Her wand pressed uncomfortably into her hip, and with a soft grunt, she fished it from the belt loop and dropped it onto the quilt beside her. She wriggled upward, trying to get comfortable, but after hours in jeans—comfortable enough for normal wear, but not designed for twenty-four-hour stints—they felt all the more restrictive.

She groaned at the thought of moving, but slipping into something more comfortable made it slightly more bearable. Wriggling to the edge of the bed, she let herself slide onto the floor. She sat there for a moment before crawling across the room to her dresser and heaving herself up. Digging through a drawer, she pulled out a worn Zeppelin shirt, soft and faded from countless washes—probably Sirius’s.

She held it up, a small ache blooming in her chest. She missed Sirius. Honestly, she did. She understood now why Remus carried so much bitterness toward him—that he had caused so much heartbreak—but he had also been a huge influence on her life.

From ages one to three, Cassie’s parents had left her at Uncle Moony and Uncle Pad’s London townhouse. She'd always had fun with them but what she remembered most was a game they’d played together, which Sirius had named Shooting Star—of course he had. It involved Padfoot dashing around the ground floor with Cassie on his back while Remus tried to catch them. She and Sirius always won.

Grabbing a pair of shorts and heading for the bathroom, Cassie smiled at the memory, warmth and nostalgia mingling with the faint sting of missing him.

Sirius had also been her first real example of an Animagus. When she was old enough to understand, Remus had told her stories of how the Marauders had become Animagi to help him through the full moons. Intrigued, Cassie did her own research—and eventually became one herself. Remus hadn’t approved at first, but he knew there was no stopping her once she set her mind to it.

Cassie rubbed her eyes as she stepped into the bathroom, grimacing at her reflection in the mirror. Remus had been right—those circles were dark. But it was for him; always taking care of him. Anything for their Moony, just as the Marauders had always said.

Stepping into the shower, she turned on the tap, letting the cool water splash against her face. The chill woke her senses, washing away the lingering fatigue from the long night. She sighed, blinking rapidly, before drying off and slipping into the soft, worn Zeppelin shirt. The fabric smelled faintly of him, a comforting reminder of the past, and she felt a small smile tug at her lips.

Her feet padded across the floorboards as she returned to her room, taking in the familiar chaos that always made her feel at home. The fairy lights strung across the walls cast a gentle glow over the stacks of books and jars of herbs, the paper butterflies and old photographs fluttering slightly in the breeze from the open window.

Cassie dropped onto her quilt with a contented sigh, letting the warmth of the bed and the quiet of the cottage settle around her. Exhaustion weighed so heavily on her that even the hazy morning light slipping through the curtains didn’t bother her. She was asleep within minutes.

***

At around midday, Cassie woke to an incessant tapping. It was faint but unmistakable. She tried burying her face deeper into her pillow, but the sound refused to stop. With a groan, she shoved herself upright and trudged out of her room.

She shut her door and turned quickly, nearly colliding with Remus in the hallway.

“Bloody hell,” she gasped, steadying herself. “Sorry, Moony.”

“S’okay,” he muttered, rubbing a hand down his tired face. “Am I going mad, or do you hear that tapping too?”

“I hear it, Moons,” Cassie said through a yawn. “I was just on my way to check it out myself.”

The tapping grew sharper, more insistent, echoing from the kitchen. Cassie exchanged a glance with Remus before padding ahead. When she stepped inside, her eyes went to the window on the right—where a great tawny owl glared at her with piercing golden eyes, its beak striking the glass like a hammer.

“What the—” Cassie muttered, tilting her head at the bird.

“What is it?” Remus asked as he hobbled in after her. His eyes followed her gaze and landed on the owl. “Oh, bollocks.”

The owl pecked again, sharp and impatient, as if offended at being kept waiting.

Cassie raised a brow. “Friend of yours?”

“Not exactly,” Remus sighed, already reaching for the latch.

The moment the window swung open, the owl swept inside in a rush of wings. One powerful flap sent a cool draft through the kitchen, tugging at Cassie’s hair as it landed squarely on the table. It gave an exasperated hoot, feathers ruffled, and stuck out its scaly leg with the letter tied firmly in place.

“All right, all right,” Remus muttered, leaning down to untie the parchment. “Scram, then, you ornery old thing.”

The owl clicked its beak in sharp disapproval but took off anyway, brushing Cassie’s shoulder with its wingtip as it shot back out into the open sky.

Cassie shut the window once more, watching as Remus tore open the envelope. She leaned against the sill, arms crossed, waiting.

He read aloud:

"Mr. R. J. Lupin,

Professor Dumbledore wishes to pay you a visit today around tea time. He understands it's short notice and apologizes.

Hoping you are well."

“Who’s it from?” Cassie asked.

“Doesn’t say,” Remus muttered, tossing the letter onto the table. “But it must have come from the Hogwarts Headmaster’s office.”

The coldness in his eyes was immediate, the distance in his posture unmistakable.

“What’s wrong?” Cassie asked softly, reading the tension in his face.

“Years of nothing,” he said, voice low and bitter. “Nothing, Cass. And he just invites himself over? After all this time—after everything—and he never tells me the full story?” His hands clenched into fists, knuckles white.

Cassie stepped closer but said nothing, letting him work through the storm that had been building for years. She understood, in part, the weight of his frustrations: loyalty, grief, and a moral code that had been repeatedly tested by Dumbledore’s choices.

“Part of me just wants to leave,” he muttered, eyes fixed on the table. “Go somewhere, occupy myself, and leave Dumbledore to find an empty house.”

“But?” Cassie prompted softly.

“But I really want to know what this is about,” he admitted. “We haven’t been in touch for years. I know nothing about the Order, and… it must be important.”

Cassie glanced at him, reading the tight line of his jaw and the faraway look in his eyes. “I think you’re worrying too much,” she said softly.

Remus shook his head. “It’s not worry. It’s… knowing him. Knowing how he operates. I can’t tell if this is trivial or—” His voice trailed off, the weight of years of secrecy pressing down.

Cassie crouched by the cupboard and rummaged through their little stash, emerging with a chocolate bar. She held it out like an offering. “Eat. You’ll feel better.”

He gave her a faint, reluctant smile. “You making fun of me, missy?” he teased, breaking off a piece.

“No,” she said, snapping off a piece for herself. “Just taking after you.”

That made Remus laugh.

“So,” Cassie said, rewrapping the chocolate bar, “we’re going to be kind when this Dumbledore fellow comes round, right?”

“Yes, Mum,” Remus replied, smirking.

“Shut it, old man,” Cassie shot back.

“Enough of this ‘old man’ shit,” Remus said, grinning. “I’m not even middle-aged.”

"Yet" Cassie said touching a finger to his nose.

“Cassie!” Remus barked, swatting at her hand.

But she was already laughing and sprinting toward her room, leaving him shaking his head with a fond smile.

***

At a quarter to Dumbledore’s arrival, Cassie finally pulled herself together and changed, deciding pajamas—or anything close to them—wouldn’t cut it. She slipped into pale green trousers and a soft blue jumper, the fabric light enough to bear the summer warmth. It wasn’t fancy, but it was respectable, and more importantly, it was comfortable.

She tugged on a pair of worn brown boots and bent to lace them up, double-knotting just in case. Straightening, she caught her reflection in the mirror.

She nodded once, then turned for the bathroom.

“Wand,” she muttered, pulling it from her drawer and going to twist it up into her hair like she often did. But her eyes drifted back to the open drawer—where a pair of scissors lay waiting. Smirking, she set the wand aside and swapped it out.

Her fringe had grown past her brows, so she trimmed it back, neat enough for now. She snipped at the rest, too, giving her jaw-length cut its usual shape. It wasn’t the first time she’d done this herself—she liked her hair short. Her parents had kept it cropped when she was little, and after they died, Remus simply carried on because he hadn’t a clue what else to do. As she grew, she stuck with the style—it was easier, cleaner—and eventually softened it with a fringe so it wasn’t so blunt. Remus never minded. Saved them money, and Cassie turned out to be good at it. Good enough, in fact, that she even cut his hair on occasion.

“Cass?” she heard Remus call, and a moment later he wandered straight into her room.

Cassie froze mid-snip, like she’d been caught doing something illicit.

“Oh—you’re cutting your hair,” he said, not the least bit surprised, tugging at his sleeve. “Do you think I look scruffy?” He asked it so earnestly she almost laughed.

Cassie held up her index finger and thumb, leaving only the tiniest gap. “Just a little bit.”

“Mm.” He rolled his eyes. “Think you could fix me up, then? Still want to look… presentable. I guess.”

Cassie smiled and nodded. “Grab that chair,” she said, nodding toward her desk.

Remus leaned forward, grabbed the back, and hauled it across the floor into her bathroom before settling onto it.

Cassie immediately got to work, trimming here and there, though he didn’t actually need much—probably just a brush would’ve done it. She snipped with practiced ease, careful but efficient.

Remus twitched subconsciously, but Cassie caught it. “Hold still, Moony. I swear I won’t lop your ears off.”

“Sure,” he teased back, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

Cassie rolled her eyes, scissors poised. “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous today. A single stray lock and I might just—”

“—give me a new hairstyle I didn’t ask for?” he finished, raising an eyebrow.

“Exactly,” she said, snipping a stray lock with precision.

Then, picking up her wand, Cassie flicked it with a practiced little flourish. A quick gust of air blew across Remus’s face, ruffling his hair back and sending the clipped strands scattering to the floor.

He sputtered, blinking through the sudden breeze. “Was that really necessary?”

Cassie grinned, tucking her wand behind her ear. “Completely. Besides, now you’re debris-free. You should be thanking me.”

Remus huffed, though his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile. “Right. Thank you for nearly blowing my eyebrows off.”

Cassie stepped aside, letting him catch his reflection.

“Not half bad,” he said, running a hand through his hair.

“Best you’ve ever looked,” Cassie replied, arms crossed.

“Rude,” Remus muttered.

Before she could fire back, a sudden sharp crack split the air.

Cassie leaned toward the window by her bed, peering out at the man in a blue cloak with a long white beard. “Merlin,” she breathed.

“Dumbledore,” Remus corrected dryly.

“Oh, shut up,” Cassie said, already heading for the door, twisting her wand into her hair. “Come on—I’d like to meet the man.”

Cassie was the first down the hall, her boots thumping against the floorboards. She reached the door, heart beating faster than she cared to admit, and pulled it open.

Professor Dumbledore stood framed in the doorway, tall and imposing yet somehow gentle, his half-moon spectacles glinting in the light. The faint scent of lemon drops and parchment seemed to follow him.

“Miss Lupin, I presume?” he said, voice warm, eyes twinkling as they studied her.

“Lark, actually,” Cassie corrected, chin lifting a little.

Dumbledore’s smile deepened, as though she’d passed some unspoken test. “Ah. Then forgive me, Miss Lark. A pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.”

Before she could reply, Remus’ voice came from just behind her—dry, clipped. “Professor.”

“Remus,” Dumbledore inclined his head. “Thank you for receiving me on such short notice.”

Cassie glanced between them, feeling the shift in the air. Warmth on one side, winter on the other.

Remus’ mouth thinned. “Not as though you gave us much of a choice, is it?”

“Would you like tea, Professor?” Cassie cut in quickly, flashing Remus a warning look.

“That would be lovely, Miss Lark. Three sugars, thank you.”

Cassie nodded. “Remus, remind me where the good tea is?” She tilted her head at him—an unspoken nudge.

“You can sit, if you’d like,” Remus said to Dumbledore, before trailing Cassie into the kitchen.

The moment they were out of earshot, Cassie spun on him. “You’re an adult, Moony. Act like it.” She tried to sound stern but was laughing.

Remus crossed his arms, rolling his eyes though a smile tugged at his mouth. “Yeah, yeah—mum.”

“Okay, but seriously. Where’s the good tea?”

He chuckled, shaking his head.

The water boiled quickly, and Cassie poured it into three mugs, dropping in the tea bags. She set two on a tray with three stirring spoons and extra sugar, and with a flick of her wand, the tray floated obediently into the sitting room, settling on the coffee table between them.

Cassie sank onto the couch beside Remus, across from Dumbledore.

“Thank you, Miss Lark,” Dumbledore said, lifting a mug.

“Cassie is fine,” she replied, placing her own mug on the table.

Dumbledore’s smile deepened. “Cassie, then.”

She nodded.

“Elodie and Nicholas’ daughter,” Remus said quietly.

Cassie swallowed, a faint ache tugging at her chest.

Dumbledore’s eyes softened, his gaze lingering on her. “Their daughter… I knew Elodie and Nicholas well. Wonderful people, truly. I am so very sorry for your loss, Cassie. They were extraordinary, and it is clear their kindness and courage live on in you.”

Cassie nodded, a lump forming in her throat, grateful for the sentiment but unused to such open acknowledgment of her parents.

“Right… why are you here?” Remus asked, sharper than he intended.

Dumbledore inclined his head, placing his mug on the table. “You must be waiting for an explanation, Mr. Lupin. I’m sure you’ve heard the news?”

Remus shrugged. “What news? If you think we’re getting owls out here, yours would be the first.”

Dumbledore sighed.

“What?” Remus pressed.

“You haven’t been in contact with Mr. Black, have you?” Dumbledore asked.

Cassie saw Remus visibly cringe.

“No… why would I be—”

“He’s dead, isn’t he?” Cassie blurted.

“No,” Dumbledore said gently. “He’s escaped.”

“What?!” Cassie exclaimed.

Remus buried his face in his hands.

“Escaped? What do you mean, escaped?” Cassie demanded.

“Sirius Black has escaped Azkaban." He scoffed. "I thought it impenetrable; I didn’t know anyone could break out,”

“He’d be the first,” Dumbledore said.

“How?” Cassie asked.

“Sirius Black was—and is—quite the gifted wizard,” Dumbledore replied.

“And a bastard,” Remus muttered under his breath.

“This news is not, in fact, the reason I’ve come,” Dumbledore said gently. “I assumed word had already reached you. The true reason is… another matter entirely. A position has opened at Hogwarts, and I believe you would do wonderfully as a teacher.”

Remus’ head snapped up, eyes wide. “A teacher? Are you mad?!”

“I know you’d fill the post well—”

“Professor,” Remus cut in sharply, “you understand I am a werewolf. A werewolf. Teaching children?” His laugh was brittle, bitter. “That has to be your daftest idea yet.”

“I believe that because of your lycanthropy and your experience in the Order, you would be more than qualified to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts,” Dumbledore said. “And with the news of Black’s escape—”

“You want me nearby,” Remus interrupted, his voice low.

“I want you both nearby, for your protection,” Dumbledore said, his eyes meeting Remus’. “I know he was quite close to you, Remus.”

“And Cassie,” he added, looking at her gently.

“But he wouldn’t come after us, would he?” Cassie asked, glancing between Dumbledore and Remus.

“Wouldn’t dare,” Remus said flatly.

“He wouldn’t,” Dumbledore agreed, “because I highly doubt he is after you.”

Cassie frowned. “What?”

Dumbledore inhaled deeply, eyes serious. “Harry.”

Remus scrubbed a hand down his face. “Harry,” he repeated. “How old is he now?”

“Thirteen,” Dumbledore said softly. “Just like them, you know… like James and Lily.”

Cassie smiled sadly.

“But I’m sure Black is on his way to Harry, to finish the job,” Dumbledore continued.

“So you also want me there to watch over Harry?” Remus asked, his voice tense.

Dumbledore nodded. “Thought you might like to.”

Remus glanced at Cassie.

“Should you choose to accept,” Dumbledore said, reaching inside his cloak and producing an envelope, “Miss Lark has a spot at Hogwarts awaiting her.” He handed it to Cassie.

Cassie took it, eyes wide. She looked at Remus, heart racing. She had never seriously considered Hogwarts—she had been perfectly content with Remus’ homeschooling—but now, the opportunity stretched out before her.

Remus turned back to Dumbledore. “Okay,” he said, voice firm but cautious.

---

2. Firework to the Face

On the first of September, 1993, Cassie and Remus rose with the sun, their bags already packed from the night before. It would be their first train ride of the day: one into London, then the more important one—the scarlet steam engine bound for Hogwarts.

While it would have been quicker and easier to Apparate straight to King’s Cross, Remus insisted she experience the magic of slipping through a barrier Muggles could never cross.

“I remember my first time,” Remus said as they cut through the forest path toward the station. “Ran at the wall full speed. Thought I’d knock myself out on the bricks—imagine my shock when I never hit it.”

Cassie snorted. “But how’d you know to run at it? Sounds mad.”

“Dumbledore told me,” Remus said with a shrug, a chuckle escaping him. “And I believed him. Look where that got me.”

“Look where it got me,” Cassie shot back. “My only friend at this new school is an old tosser who also happens to be a teacher… who also happens to be a werewolf.”

Remus arched a brow. “Who also happens to be your godfather.”

Cassie laughed.

By seven, she and Remus were settled on the train, the steady clatter of wheels carrying them closer to Hogwarts.

Cassie pressed her cheek to the glass, legs swinging as she bounced in her seat, barely able to contain her glee.

“Cass,” Remus said.

“Hm?” She turned to look at him.

He exhaled slowly. “I know you’ll want to talk to Harry when you see him,”

“Well, of course. He’s family,” Cassie said.

“But you must remember,” Remus went on, “Harry’s world is very small. Right now, all he really knows is that Lily and James were his parents, and they died twelve years ago. He doesn’t know about me, Peter, or Sirius. And his aunt and uncle—your aunt and uncle too—hate magic. I’d bet they kept your family from him too."

Cassie’s tone deflated. “Nobody told him?”

“I’d wager Dumbledore hasn’t, no,” Remus admitted with a huff. “Which is why you can’t drop everything on him all at once. I’ll tell him too, but when the time is right.”

“Okay.” Cassie lowered her eyes to her lap.

“But he will know,” Remus added, trying to lift her spirits. “Then it won’t be just me you have.”

“You’re still family, Moony,” Cassie assured him.

Remus smiled fondly, but his expression shifted suddenly. “Oh—” he said, “you can’t call me Moony at school. Or, at least, not in front of people.”

“What? Why?!” she whined.

He crossed his arms. “Why am I called Moony?”

“Because you’re a werewolf,” she said quietly.

“Right,” he said, holding up a finger. “That’s one reason.”

“There’s another?” Cassie asked.

Remus nodded. “There’s a certain map probably roaming around Hogwarts with my name on it—well, Moony—but still me.”

“But I thought you said the map was confiscated in your fifth year,” Cassie said.

“It was. But what makes you think some troublemakers haven’t found it? Troublemakers made it!” Remus said.

“Touché,” Cassie muttered, smirking.

Time on the train passed slowly, and with little to occupy her, Cassie soon felt her eyelids growing heavy.

“I think I’m going to nap for a bit,” she said, shifting her trunk from the seat beside her and tucking her feet up. “Early morning’s got me.”

“Sleep,” Remus replied. “I’ll be here.”

“How long is the train ride?” she asked, shutting her eyes and leaning against the window.

“Four hours,” he answered.

She hummed in response, and within minutes, she was out.

About three and a half hours later, she stirred as Remus poked her gently with his cane.

“Hm? What?” she murmured.

“We’re pulling in,” he said with a grin.

That sobered her up instantly, and her eyes snapped to the window.

Cassie pressed her face to the glass as the train slowed, her heart skipping a beat. The station was vast, bustling with people moving in every direction, their hurried steps echoing off the high, arched ceiling. Luggage trolleys clattered across the polished floor, and the scent of coal, steam, and baked goods mingled in the air. She’d never seen a place so alive, so loud, so full of motion.

Her eyes darted around, taking in the crowds of muggles with their hurried expressions, the families saying goodbyes, and the strange mix of announcements over the PA that echoed like music to her ears. It was overwhelming—and exhilarating.

“This is Platform Five,” Remus murmured from across the aisle. “We’ll head to nine and three-quarters as soon as we’re off.”

The train screeched to a stop, wheels grinding against the rails. The carriage was nearly empty, so without waiting for anyone ahead, Cassie was on her feet in an instant.

Grabbing her trunk, she turned eagerly. “Come on, Remus!”

“Okay, okay,” he chuckled, falling in step behind her.

The moment Cassie stepped onto Platform Five, the scents hit her full force—the sharp tang of coal, the warm aroma of baked goods, and the faint metallic tang of luggage trolleys clattering across the polished floor. Everything smelled richer, more alive than she’d imagined.

“Wow,” she breathed, eyes wide.

“That’s not even the coolest part,” Remus said, leaning down slightly. “Come on.” He was already moving ahead.

Cassie gaped at him for a moment, then snapped back to reality and jogged after him, quickly falling into step.

“You can see the barrier from here,” Remus pointed ahead.

“I know it’s supposed to look like a brick wall—and sometimes act like one—but really…you could’ve fooled me. That looks solid,” Cassie said, her voice full of disbelief.

“Wait till you’re running at it,” Remus teased, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Cassie groaned at the thought. Running full speed into a solid brick wall? No thanks.

They continued weaving through the bustling station, passing each platform in turn. Seven. Cassie’s chest felt tight, a mix of nerves and excitement fluttering in her stomach. Eight. Every step closer to the barrier made her pulse quicken.

Now they stood between nine and ten. Cassie glanced up at Remus.

“Ready?” he asked.

Cassie swallowed hard, then nodded.

Remus held out his arm. “I’ll take your trunk, so you can just go.”

She nodded again, handing it over. Breathing deeply, she turned toward the wall behind her. Above, a small sign indicated Platform Nine. Just beyond that wall lay the hidden Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

“It’s easier if you run,” Remus said.

“Right,” Cassie muttered, steeling herself.

Cassie took a deep breath and shut her eyes. Then, she ran.

She didn't hit a brick wall, instead, she felt a wave of magic surge through her—thick, humming, alive. She froze, eyes still closed, heart pounding in disbelief.

When she opened them, the world on the other side took her breath away. The arching sign that read 9¾, the gleaming scarlet train, the chaos of cloaks and trunks and cats and owls in cages—it all shimmered with something more. Everything was brighter, sharper, more vivid, as if she’d stepped straight into the pages of a storybook.

She spun around, taking it all in again, a laugh bubbling from her lips. “It’s… it’s amazing!”

Remus appeared behind her, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Here,” he said, handing over her trunk.

Cassie blinked, still gaping at the vibrant scene before her, and took the trunk almost automatically. She hardly noticed the weight in her hands—and didn’t even hear Remus’ soft, “Come on,” her eyes glued to the chaos around her.

As she scanned the crowded platform, drinking in the sea of witches and wizards, a sudden realization struck her.

Remus was gone.

It was like the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice—if Orpheus had listened to Hades and was Eurydice’s godfather.

“Oh bollocks,” she muttered. Not that she couldn’t get on a train by herself—the bright red engine was right there. But her plan had been to sit with Remus, and now there was a chance she’d lost him until they reached Hogwarts. Cassie might have to find a spot on her own.

Ahead, a clock caught her eye. Her eyes widened. 10:58. Two minutes to get on the train.

She started weaving through the crowd. Why are there so many people still?! she thought. After far too many “excuse mes,” she finally hopped aboard as the last whistle blew.

The train began to chug away from the station. Cassie caught the goodbyes of parents, watched them blowing kisses to their children. She gave a small nod and stepped further inside.

"Now to find the numpty who left me…" she muttered under her breath.

Cassie wove her way down the narrow corridor, pressing herself against the sides whenever students passed. All the while, her eyes darted into each compartment, searching for Remus. She crossed into another car, which appeared empty—or so she thought, her sole focus still on finding him.

She continued down the corridor, eyes scanning the compartments, when a sudden yell cut through the noise.

“Fred! Watch it!” the voice shouted.

Cassie froze, heart skipping a beat. When her eyes adjusted, she realized she was staring down the barrel of some kind of rocket aimed straight between her eyebrows. She crossed her eyes, trying to track the swirling object.

A split second before it struck, she ducked, hands covering her head. The tiny rocket whizzed past, sparks singeing the few hairs standing on top of her head. At the end of the corridor, it popped loudly, emitting a small firework.

Cassie stood, blinking at the charred sparks littering the floor. Then, just as quickly, she spun around to find the culprit.

In front of her stood two identical boys. One grinned with palpable pride, the other wore a sheepish, apologetic smile.

“Did you see that, George? It worked!” the proud one shouted.

The other ignored his brother entirely. “I am so sorry,” he said earnestly.

Cassie scowled, smoothing her hair back with one hand, clearly unimpressed. It was obvious who had launched the rocket.

“Really?” she said, narrowing her eyes at the boy who was still gawking.

“What?” he asked, genuinely clueless.

Cassie looked back at the scattered gunpowder, then at him again, utterly dumbfounded. “You’re serious?”

“What?” He glanced at his brother. “Am I missing something?”

“That was extremely dangerous,” Cassie snapped. “How could you just shoot a firecracker at someone?”

“Firework,” the boy corrected with a cheeky grin.

“Even worse!” Cassie shot back.

“Not like it blew your head off,” he shrugged.

“Well, it could have,” she stepped closer, voice low.

“But it didn’t,” he mirrored her stance, grin still fixed.

It was clear the other twin had no idea what to do.

“Oi, what’s happening?” a voice called from behind.

Cassie turned to see a boy with matching red hair and freckles, holding a gray, fat rat in his hands.

“George and I were just testing a new product, baby brother,” the firework-wielder said.

“And nearly beheaded me,” Cassie added, arms crossed.

“But we didn’t,” he leaned closer, repeating, “like I said before.”

“Fred, stop terrorizing people—it’s not even the first day,” the younger boy scolded.

With that, the twins walked off—the apologetic one muttering more “sorrys” behind, the other smugly staring at Cassie, which she harshly returned.

“Sorry about them,” the boy behind her said. Cassie turned and realized she hadn’t noticed two other kids standing just beyond him.

One was a girl with mid-length, slightly frizzy, curly brown hair, carrying her trunk in one hand and a large, bushy orange cat in a carrier in the other. Setting her trunk down, she held out her hand.

“Hermione Granger.”

“Cassie,” she replied, shaking it.

At the back of the little group stood a boy with shaggy black hair sticking up in every direction. He wore round glasses, and when his eyes met Cassie’s, she froze. She knew those eyes—bright, piercing green. Her Aunt Lily’s eyes. She’d grown up seeing them in photos, and she would’ve recognized them anywhere. She didn’t need a scar to tell her who he was. She was meeting her cousin—the Chosen One.

“Harry,” the boy said, shaking her hand.

“Lovely to meet you,” Cassie said, and meant it wholeheartedly.

“Harry,” the ginger boy urged, “you lead—I can’t find a compartment.”

“Fine,” Harry muttered, stepping closer to Cassie.

“Would you like to sit with us?” Hermione asked.

“That’d be lovely,” Cassie said with a smile.

“I’m Ron, by the way,” the freckled boy added. “Sorry my brothers were bothering you. They want to open a joke shop someday, so they’ve been making and testing products for years.”

“Are they always so observant?” Cassie asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Always,” Ron said with a sigh.

“One was actually sorry. The other? Not so much.” Cassie rolled her eyes.

“Probably George.”

“Yeah—it was George,” Cassie nodded, recognizing the name.

“The other is Fred. He thinks he’s the funnier twin, but George is just as funny.”

“Seems like he’s the crueler twin,” Cassie muttered.

“You’re not wrong about that,” Ron admitted.

Up ahead, Harry was telling a story about how he’d accidentally blown up his aunt as they continued searching for a compartment.

“I didn’t mean to blow her up. I just… lost control,” Harry said.

“Brilliant,” Ron chuckled.

“Honestly, Ron, it’s not funny,” Hermione scolded. “Harry was lucky not to be expelled.”

“I think I was lucky not to be arrested, actually,” Harry corrected.

“I still think it was brilliant,” Ron said, grinning.

Harry blew up his aunt, Cassie thought to herself. Huh.

“Come on, everywhere else is full,” Hermione sighed, stopping in front of a compartment.

They slid the door open, and Cassie trailed in after them—only to nearly drop her trunk in shock.

There, slumped in the corner seat, was Remus. Fast asleep.

“Who do you think that is?” Ron asked, dropping into the seat opposite, closest to the window.

“Professor R. J. Lupin,” Hermione said matter-of-factly.

Harry was still wrestling his trunk onto the rack. He caught Cassie’s eye and tilted his head toward hers in silent offer.

“Thanks,” she said, letting him hoist it up before settling in next to Remus with a quiet chuckle.

“You know everything,” Ron muttered, staring at Hermione. “How is it she knows everything?”

Hermione pointed at the battered suitcase above Remus’s head. “It’s written on his suitcase, Ronald.”

“Oh.”

“Do you think he’s really asleep?” Harry asked, sitting next to Cassie.

“Unless you plan on making the same annoying noise over and over again, yeah—he’s out.”

Ron frowned. “And how would you know that?”

Cassie smirked. “Oh, he’s my godfather.”

There was a chorus of surprised “ohs.”

“Why?” Hermione asked, tilting her head curiously.

Harry straightened and slid the compartment door shut. “I’ve got to tell you something.”

Sitting back down, he turned to Cassie. “Can I trust you?”

“I’m new, I’ve got nobody to tell,” Cassie said with a shrug.

“You are new,” Hermione said, giving Ron a pointed look. “I told you, Ron.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Alright, alright. What’s the big secret then?”

Harry huffed and explained, quietly, that Arthur Weasley had told him Sirius Black was after him. That he was in danger because Voldemort’s return depended on him, and he was the only thing standing in the way.

Through the conversation, the sky outside darkened, sheets of rain hammering the train.

“Wait, let me get this straight,” Ron said slowly. “Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban… to come after you?”

"Yeah," Harry nodded, still seeming to struggle with the reality.

Hermione leaned forward, voice tight with concern. “But they’ll catch him, right? I mean, everyone’s looking for him.”

Ron shrugged. “Sure… except no one’s ever broken out of Azkaban before. And he’s a murderous, raving lunatic.” His eyebrows knitted in fear.

“Thanks, Ron,” Harry muttered flatly.

Cassie was itching to say something about Sirius or that harry was her cousin, but stayed quiet on the matter.

"I'm sure youll be fine harry" Cassie assured him

Suddenly, the train lurched, wheels squeaking.

“Why are we stopping?” Hermione asked, sitting straighter. "We can't be there yet." Her voice tinged with worry.

Cassie looked around at everyone in the compartment, concerned.

Harry stood, slid the compartment door open, and peeked into the corridor. A low, ominous rumble echoed through the train. The carriage tilted, and he stumbled backward into his seat.

“What’s going on?!” Ron cried.

The door clicked shut with a harsh snap.

“Dunno… maybe we broke down?” Harry said, tone almost hopeful.

“Maybe it’s the weather?” Cassie offered, eyes flicking to the fogged-up windows.

Then the lights flickered—and went out.

Everyone froze. Eyes shot to the light.

Ron pressed his face to the glass.

“Ouch, Ron, that was my foot,” Hermione snapped.

“There’s… someone moving out there,” he blubbered, voice trembling.

The emergency lights flickered on briefly, dim yellow, then cut out again, plunging them into shadows.

Ron pressed his hand harder into the fogged glass. “I think… someone’s coming aboard.”

The train lurched again. The compartment door creaked open an inch—then clicked shut.

Cassie snapped her head toward the door, Harry following. Their eyes locked on it, wide and wary.

The temperature dropped.

Breath bloomed in white clouds. Warmth drained from the air, replaced by a heavy, creeping cold that settled deep in their bones.

A sharp crackle echoed from the window. Ice crystals spread from Ron’s pressed hand, creeping like spiderwebs, twisting and curling across the pane.

The cold reached the water bottle near Remus, freezing it solid in moments.

Cassie glanced at Remus, but her slept on, unbothered.

Even the windows on the door frosted over, swirling with ice patterns.

The train lurched violently, nearly sending Ron and Hermione sprawling.

“Bloody hell!” Ron exclaimed. "What's happening?!"

An eerie whistle pierced the air. All heads snapped toward the door.

From the corner of it, ragged strips of dark fabric fluttered like dead leaves caught in a restless wind. The edges twisted and curled with a life of their own.

Cassie’s hand shook as she pointed.

The whistling wind and ragged breathing filled the compartment.

A bony, decayed hand appeared from the black cloak, hovering near the door, moving with unseen magic. Slowly, agonizingly, the door creaked open.

Cassie held her breath.

The towering cloaked figure stepped into view, its face swallowed in shadow beneath a black hood.

It inched closer. Hermione’s cat hissed, fur bristling. Ron’s rat squeaked, retreating into his jacket.

A distorted whooshing filled the air.

Cassie wanted to scream, but no sound came.

Then the figure turned toward Harry, leaning in. A sudden chill swept through the compartment, an invisible, desperate tug draining the light from him.

Cassie’s eyes widened in horror, glued to the scene in front of her.

Suddenly, Remus sprang to his feet, wand raised. A brilliant white light shot from its tip, striking the cloaked figure and forcing it back, its ragged form recoiling with a hiss.

Cassie snapped back to reality and looked up at Remus, standing tall, then at Hermione and Ron, who were staring at Harry sprawled unconscious on the bench-seat.

“Harry? Harry, are you all right?” Hermione asked, panic in her voice.

Harry blinked, disoriented. Hermione quickly held his glasses out to him.

“Thank you,” he said, taking them and adjusting them carefully.

Remus reached into his pocket and pulled out a chocolate bar, snapping off a piece. “Here,” he said, offering it to Harry. “Eat this. It'll help.”

Harry propped himself up on his elbow, taking a cautious bite.

“It’s all right. It’s chocolate,” Remus reassured him.

“Wha-what was that thing… that came?” Harry asked, glancing toward the door.

“It was a Dementor,” Remus said, his gaze following the door. “One of Azkaban’s guards. It was searching the train for Sirius Black. It’s gone now.”

Remus placed the chocolate bar on the bench between Cassie and Harry. He then stood, heading for the door. Pausing, he glanced back at them. “Eat. You’ll feel better,” he said firmly.

With that, he stepped out and let the door close behind him.

“Be right back,” Cassie said, rising without explaining further. The look on Remus’ face as he left the compartment was… unusual, and it made her pause, a flicker of concern rising.

Shutting the door behind her, she found him slumped against the wall a few feet away.

“You okay?” she asked softly, hurrying to his side.

Remus gave a small, uncertain nod. “I thought I was ready to see him… I thought I’d be okay. I didn’t expect to see him so soon. But… I saw Lily in his eyes, and James in everything else.”

“I know,” Cassie said, looking down at her feet. “Lily was the first person I saw too.”

Remus’s eyes softened. “You did?”

Cassie nodded. “And while it hurts, it’s also… comforting, in a way, to have them both here, even if they’re not… really here.”

“Very mature and wise of you, Cass,” Remus said.

“Got it from you,” Cassie replied.

He chuckled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and giving her a gentle squeeze. “I’ll come find you before we get off, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Cassie said.

“Kay,” he said. “Love you, Cass.”

“Love you, Moons,” she whispered back quietly before returning to the compartment.

---

3. Prefects, Parties, and Pumpkin Juice

The Hogwarts Express screeched to a halt at Hogsmeade Station. Just as he’d promised, Remus came to fetch Cassie. What she didn’t expect, however, was that they’d be ushered into a private carriage.

“This is… not how I got to school,” Remus muttered, eyeing the inside of the enclosed coach. It had real doors, actual seats, and more than one thestral pulling it. Definitely not the rattling wagons from his day. “Don’t get too comfortable, Cassie. Next time, you’ll be in one of the open carriages, the kind that feel like a hayride through a pumpkin patch.”

Cassie chuckled softly, peeking out the window at the bony, winged creatures. “Misunderstood creatures, Thestrals,” she murmured, almost to herself.

Remus turned sharply toward her, eyes wide with surprise. "How—"

“I watched that stray die this summer,” Cassie explained quietly, heart clenching as the memory surfaced.

Remus’s expression softened. “I’d forgotten that happened. You’ve always been such an empath, Cass.”

Cassie swallowed harden. “It was bleeding out, Moony. I didn’t know what to do.”

Remus gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Alright, alright—let’s not get all mopey before we go in,” he said softly, nodding toward the window. “Look, we’re just pulling up.”

Cassie followed his gesture, and sure enough, the towering silhouette of the castle loomed closer through the rain-streaked glass. The rain had stopped, leaving the view crisp and clear against the deep, dark blue of the evening sky.

The castle stretched endlessly upward, turrets and towers outlined against the twilight. Every window and archway glowed with warm, golden light, spilling out like morning. Cassie’s breath caught in her throat. She had seen pictures, read about it, even imagined it a thousand times—but nothing had prepared her for the real thing.

“Was it this magical when you first came?” she breathed.

“Yes,” he admitted, a small smile tugging at his lips. “But I pretended I wasn’t absolutely awestruck.”

“How?” she asked, still gaping at the castle, eyes wide.

“Because I was a prick at eleven,” Remus admitted, “a thick, hard arse.”

“You were mad then,” Cassie said, turning back to him, a small smile tugging at her lips.

The carriage slowed, the thestrals’ hooves clattering softly on the cobblestones as they pulled up to the castle. Cassie slid the door open and hopped down, brushing raindrops from her sleeves.

“Thank you,” she said kindly, inclining her head to the thestrals. The creatures gave a quiet, almost imperceptible snort before shifting their weight, ready to return to the stables.

Remus followed her out, stretching slightly. “Alright, let’s not keep Hogwarts waiting.”

Before they could take another step, the massive doors of the castle creaked open. Cassie saw the older woman first. Her eyes immediately took in the sharp lines of her face, the stern set of her mouth, and the wire-rimmed spectacles that balanced neatly on her nose. Her dark robes swished as she moved, precise and controlled, every gesture deliberate. Yet there was a subtle warmth in her gaze that suggested she could see far more than she let on. Cassie felt a shiver of respect—or maybe awe—creep up her spine; this was someone used to command, and she carried it effortlessly.

“Remus Lupin,” the woman said, her voice surprised yet warm, as though pleased the rumors of his return were true. “Albus told me, but I wasn’t sure you’d actually show up.”

Remus chuckled. “You can thank this one for that.” He gave Cassie a gentle nudge forward. “She convinced me.”

Cassie smiled sheepishly and stuck out her hand. “Hello ma'am, my name is Cassie Lark.”

The woman shook it firmly. “Professor McGonagall, dear. We’re pleased to have you at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

Cassie’s smile grew a little easier at the kindness in her tone.

McGonagall then turned to the girl beside her. “Miss Lark, meet Miss Thorne—another transfer.”

Cassie’s eyes landed on the girl: waist-length curls of chestnut brown, the most beautiful hair Cassie had ever seen, and bright blue eyes like the ocean on a cloudless day. She was a little shorter than Cassie, though not by much.

“Lyra,” the girl said, extending her hand.

“Cassie,” she returned with a smile.

“And you both are beginning your fifth year, yes?” McGonagall asked.

Both girls nodded.

“Perfect. Then let’s head inside. The Headmaster wishes to speak with you.”

She turned toward the towering doors, Remus falling easily into step beside her. “How have you been, Minnie?” he asked with a grin.

The two girls exchanged a look, then broke into soft giggles before hurrying to follow them.

“Fifth year then.” Cassie asked. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Lyra replied with a small shrug. “Feels weird, though—starting now, when everyone’s already got their friendships and… everything.”

Cassie, feeling strangely at ease with her already, bumped her shoulder against Lyra’s. “Hey, now you’ve got one.”

Lyra’s smile warmed at that.

Cassie grinned. “If it makes you feel better, I thought my only friend here was gonna be that old codger up there.” She jerked her chin toward Remus. “My godfather. Hogwarts alumn and he newest addition to staff.”

“For one,” Lyra said with a teasing smile, “you’ve got two friends now—technically. And two—” her tone shifted toward curiosity—“where on staff is he being placed?”

“He’s filled a teaching position,” Cassie answered, a little pride sneaking into her voice. “Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

“Brilliant,” Lyra said. “Cheers, really—he must be quite qualified.”

“He is,” Cassie replied, her voice firm. Then, softer, to herself, she added, “For more reasons than one.”

Thankfully, Lyra didn’t hear her.

They trailed after the two professors, who were deep in conversation, catching up after years apart. The girls followed them through the echoing entrance hall, then into a smaller reception hall, until they stopped before two towering wooden doors stretching from floor to ceiling. Professor McGonagall pushed one open, and the four of them stepped into the Great Hall.

Cassie's eyes were saucers.

Four long tables ran the length of the chamber, candles floating serenely above them, their light glimmering off golden plates and goblets. But it was the ceiling that stole her breath—a vast, swirling canvas of deep blue, alive with stars and drifting clouds, perfectly mirroring the heavens outside. She’d read about it in Hogwarts: A History, but nothing could have prepared her for this. Night, the cosmos, the infinite skies—it was everything she loved, everything she felt connected to.

“I could get used to this,” she murmured, still gazing upward, utterly enchanted.

So much so, in fact, that Lyra had to grab her by the back of her shirt.

“We stopped,” Lyra whispered, amusement in her voice.

Cassie blinked, cheeks warming. “Just a bit… overwhelmed. But in the best way possible.”

A little ways off, Remus and Professor McGonagall were speaking with the headmaster himself. Cassie’s eyes lingered on Dumbledore’s kind expression, though her mind wandered again to the stars overhead, losing herself in their motion. She didn’t notice the headmaster approach until Lyra nudged her in the ribs. Cassie startled, eyes snapping down to the man now standing before them.

“Miss Lark,” Dumbledore greeted warmly, “how lovely to see you again.” He turned to Lyra with equal kindness. “And Miss Thorne, what a pleasure to meet you at last. You are both entering your fifth year, am I correct?”

“Yes,” the girls answered together.

“Splendid. Just as I thought.” His blue eyes twinkled. “The first years will be sorted shortly, after which I’ll make a few announcements before the feast begins. A most anticipated moment, I daresay.”

Cassie nearly laughed at how easily he’d read her mind—her mouth was already watering at the thought.

“As for you two,” Dumbledore went on, “there will be a sorting as well, though not with the first years. A private one, later this evening, in my study. Professor McGonagall and I will meet you there after the feast.” He gestured behind the staff table, where a thin, hunched man with a permanent scowl was setting up a small two-person table. “Mr. Filch has kindly arranged seats for you here in the meantime, as well as cloaks to keep you warm.”

The man dropped two folded cloaks onto their table before scuttling away.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” Dumbledore finished, giving a small bow before turning back toward the staff table.

Cassie and Lyra exchanged a look, excitement sparking bright between them.

“I can’t believe I’m actually here,” Lyra whispered.

“I know,” Cassie said, slipping into her seat and running a hand over the soft cloak. “I never thought I’d be here either.”

“Me neither.” Lyra smiled, tugging her own cloak around her shoulders.

Cassie chuckled. “VIP table for us, huh?”

The two girls grinned, settling in as the rest of the staff began to file into the hall.

They were chatting about lord knows what when the great oak doors creaked open wide, and what looked like thousands of students spilled into the hall. The crowd surged forward in a rush of robes and chatter, but just as quickly split off, each group finding their designated tables.

“Merlin, that’s a lot of people,” Cassie murmured, eyes darting across the crowd as though she might drown in it.

Lyra leaned closer, her voice pitched just for her. “And we’ll be in there soon.”

Cassie huffed a soft laugh, though her chest felt tight. It startled her, how at ease she already felt with Lyra. For years, she’d only had Remus—her safe place, her anchor—and she’d never really believed she’d let anyone else in. But Lyra was different. Somehow, impossibly, Cassie felt like she could trust her.

Cassie leaned back into her with a grin. “Can’t wait,” she said.

The great oak doors swung open again, and a line of nervous-looking first years filed into the hall. The Sorting Hat was brought out, placed on a stool at the front, and one by one, each child was called forward. The Hat’s brim twitched, muttered, and shouted its decisions, sending the students off to cheers from their new tables. Cassie watched with quiet fascination, remembering McGonagall’s promise that she and Lyra would face the same ritual later that evening.

Once the last first-year bounded to their seat, the hat and stool were whisked away. The room eventually quieted on its own as a small choir gathered at the front of the hall, lining up the steps like a set of risers. It was peculiar, though—several of them carried very large toads perched on cushions.

“What do you think those are for?” Lyra whispered, tilting her head.

“They’re gonna sing,” Cassie quipped, clearly joking.

Except, as it turned out, that was exactly what happened.

The choir began, the toads croaking in perfect, if bizarre, harmony. Cassie and Lyra sat frozen, eyes wide as saucers, listening in quiet bewilderment.

The song ended with one final, resounding croak. Cassie and Lyra snapped their heads toward each other, mouths breaking into huge grins before slapping their palms together and clapping enthusiastically.

The sea of students and toads gradually parted as Dumbledore appeared at his golden owl-shaped podium, candles flickering above the spread of its wings.

He raised his arms wide. “Welcome! Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! Now, I’d like to say a few words before we become befuddled by our excellent feast.” He clasped his hands together, eyes twinkling. “First, I am pleased to welcome Professor R. J. Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Good luck, Professor.” He gestured toward Remus.

Remus stood, bowing his head with a sheepish smile.

Cassie had to fight the urge to leap up and whoop, instead trying to make her claps the loudest in the hall. Lyra, despite only having met them moments ago, clapped with the same unshaken enthusiasm—like she’d known them for years.

When the clapping subsided, Dumbledore continued, “As some of you may know, Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher for many years, has decided to retire in order to spend more time with his remaining limbs.”

Cassie and Lyra flicked their eyes toward each other, eyes widening at the mention of "remaining limbs."

“Fortunately, I am delighted to announce that his place will be taken by none other than our own Rubeus Hagrid!” He gestured to the enormous, shaggy-haired man seated beside Professor McGonagall. Hagrid stood, beaming, and nearly toppled the staff table, sending goblets of water trembling. The whole hall erupted in cheers—it was clear he was well loved here.

Dumbledore raised a hand for quiet. “Finally, on a more disquieting note: at the request of the Ministry of Magic, Hogwarts will, until further notice, play host to the Dementors of Azkaban—until such a time as Sirius Black is captured.”

A hush fell, whispers breaking out across the room.

Cassie wasn’t sure what to feel. The students in this hall were terrified of the man she had once loved so dearly. Her chest tightened, but when she looked up, she caught Remus at the staff table giving her a small, reassuring nod.

“The Dementors will be stationed at every entrance to the grounds. Now, whilst I have been assured that their presence will not disrupt our day-to-day activities, a word of caution. Dementors are vicious creatures; they will not distinguish between the one they hunt and the one who gets in their way. Therefore, I must warn each and every one of you: give them no reason to harm you. It is not in the nature of a Dementor to be forgiving.”

Moments later, Dumbledore’s grave tone shifted completely, as if it had never been. He spread his arms wide, a twinkle flashing in his eye.

“Well! Tuck in!”

At once, the golden platters lining each table filled themselves to the brim—mountains of roast meats, steaming bowls of potatoes, jugs of pumpkin juice, baskets of bread, and more than Cassie could take in at once.

Her mouth nearly watered just looking at it. She caught Lyra’s eye, and both girls broke into delighted grins before reaching eagerly for the dishes nearest to them.

***

“Alright, where the hell is Dumbledore’s office?” Cassie groaned, spinning in a slow circle. She and Lyra had been wandering each floor since the feast ended, and it felt like they’d covered each floor twice over.

“Of course we get no guidance on how to get there,” Lyra muttered, arms folded.

Cassie shook her head, mild annoyance flickering across her face.

“Hey—did you take the train up?” she asked, changing the subject.

Lyra quickly turned her head, pretending to study a painting on the wall, quickly becoming amazed it was alive. “Oh, no. Professor McGonagall brought me here,” she said quickly, then pivoted right back. “What happened on the train?”

Cassie’s throat tightened, but she forced her tone to stay even. “A dementor came on board. Searching for Sirius Black.”

Lyra’s head snapped back to her, eyes wide. “What?!”

“I know,” Cassie said with a wry twist of her lips. “And apparently”—she gave a weak chuckle—“that’s not normal.”

“Shocker,” Lyra replied.

They kept walking until Lyra suddenly froze in her tracks. “I just had the most brilliant idea.”

Cassie raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“We’ve been wandering around lost when we could use the brilliantly magical, shocking resources all around us!” Lyra spun, arms wide, then stopped in front of Cassie. “The paintings!”

“Ask…the paintings?” Cassie repeated.

“I mean, it’s worth a shot. Come on,” Lyra said, grabbing Cassie’s wrist and hauling her forward.

Cassie chuckled, letting herself be pulled along.

Still holding Cassie’s wrist, Lyra led them through the corridors, scanning the portraits as they tried to pick which witch or wizard might be kind enough to give them directions.

They stopped in front of an older wizard in green robes, his kind face brightening as they approached. Lyra nudged Cassie forward.

“You had the idea,” Cassie muttered.

“Exactly,” Lyra shot back. “I had the brilliant idea, now you can do the talking,” she pushed Cassie gently ahead.

With a good-natured sigh, Cassie faced the wizard. “Hello, sir. You wouldn’t happen to know where Professor Dumbledore’s study is, would you?”

“Seventh floor, find the gryphon, thats the entrance.” he replied with a warm smile.

“Thank you very much,” Cassie said, turning toward the stairs.

“Thank you, sir!” Lyra called after her, hurrying to catch up.

“My pleasure,” the wizard said as they walked away.

“Told you!” Lyra called after Cassie.

“Yeah, yeah, you were right,” Cassie said, hopping onto the first step and turning to face Lyra. “Not even friends a day, and you’re already being snarky with me—” She ended in a shriek as the staircase shuddered and groaned, twisting beneath her feet.

Lyra nearly doubled over laughing as Cassie grabbed the railing for balance, the steps shifting and turning as if they had a mind of their own.

“This isn’t funny!” Cassie protested, though her laughter betrayed her.

“No, you’re right—it’s not,” Lyra said, not really meaning it, catching her breath between giggles.

Cassie slapped her forehead, still laughing. “There’s other stairs over there,” she pointed. “Meet me on the next floor!”

Lyra dashed across the corridor, laughing as she bounded up the stagnant steps. Cassie met her halfway on the sixth floor, both of them out of breath but grinning from ear to ear.

Without slowing down, Cassie grabbed Lyra’s hand and tugged her toward the stairs to the seventh floor, the two of them laughing like they’d just been dropped into the middle of a chick flick.

The castle was mostly empty now, save for the occasional stray student drifting through the halls, their footsteps echoing faintly off the stone walls.

On the seventh floor, the girls found the stone gryphon that guarded the entrance to Dumbledore’s study—shockingly quick. Cassie’s grin spread wide, pride flickering in her eyes as she stared up at the carved bird.

“Uh, Cass,” Lyra said slowly. “He never told us the password.”

Cassie’s bubble of joy popped.

“Shit.”

Lyra nodded, lips pressed in a tight line.

“Maybe I’ll just… tell it Dumbledore needs us?” Cassie offered.

Lyra shot her a flat look.

Cassie rolled her eyes playfully, then turned back to the statue. “’Scuse me,” she said, voice lighter than she felt. “Dumbledore asked us to his study. Cassie Lark and Lyra Thorne?”

To their utter shock, the stone gryphon groaned, then twisted aside, revealing a spiral staircase winding upward.

With a smug smile, Cassie stepped onto the first stair. “You’re not the only one with good ideas today.”

“I can’t believe that worked,” Lyra muttered, cautiously following.

“Magic,” Cassie teased.

The staircase began to rotate, carrying them smoothly upward like an enchanted escalator. Both girls stared in awe, though Lyra’s wide-eyed wonder made her look as though she’d just stepped into a fairy tale.

The staircase deposited them before a polished oak door with a brass griffin-shaped knocker. Cassie reached out, heart thumping, and pushed.

The study beyond made her stop in her tracks.

It was a beautiful circular room, large and airy, with windows set deep into the stone walls. The high, domed ceiling glittered with the reflections of dozens of curious silver instruments that stood whirring and puffing on spindle-legged tables. Richly embroidered rugs muffled their footsteps as they stepped inside. Portraits of past headmasters and headmistresses snoozed or stirred in their gilded frames, and the shelves were crammed with books so ancient some looked as though they might crumble to dust at a touch. A magnificent claw-footed desk dominated the far side of the room, gleaming with polished wood.

Cassie’s eyes caught on the most extraordinary sight of all: a golden perch by the desk, and upon it, a phoenix of the richest scarlet and gold, dozing with its head tucked under one wing.

And there, standing in front of the desk, was Professor Dumbledore himself, hands folded calmly. Professor McGonagall waited beside him, sharp eyes softened.

Lyra’s mouth had parted the moment they stepped in the castle, and she hadn’t closed it since. Her eyes roamed the walls, the whirring instruments, the shelves sagging under books, and finally landed on the phoenix.

“Bloody hell,” she whispered before she could stop herself.

Cassie elbowed her lightly, trying not to grin. She was impressed too, though she forced herself to walk forward.

Dumbledore’s blue eyes twinkled as he regarded them, the corners crinkling with warmth. “Ah. Miss Lark. Miss Thorne. Welcome.”

His voice filled the room without effort, gentle yet commanding all at once. “I trust the castle has not overwhelmed you too badly on your first evening?”

Lyra’s face flushed as she finally managed to shut her mouth. Cassie, though, answered with an easy smile.

“Not yet,” she said, “though it certainly tries.”

Dumbledore chuckled. "Well i dont want to keep you too long, shall we get on with the sorting?"

Dumbledore chuckled, the sound like soft bells. “Well, I don’t want to keep you too long. Shall we get on with the Sorting?”

McGonagall, standing prim beside Dumbledore, stepped forward with the battered old Sorting Hat in her hands. Its frayed brim twitched as though it already sensed the task ahead.

“As you are both entering Hogwarts at an older year,” she began, her crisp voice steady but kind, “the process is much the same as it is for the first-years. The Sorting Hat will be placed upon your head, and it will determine the House to which you are best suited. There is no need to be nervous—the Hat sees far more than you think, and it always makes the right choice.”

Lyra shifted on her feet, staring at the ragged thing like it might leap out of McGonagall’s hands. Cassie, meanwhile, tilted her head, curiosity sparking in her eyes rather than fear.

McGonagall’s gaze softened just slightly. “Who wants to go first.”

“You go first, Lyra,” Cassie said, giving her a gentle nudge.

“Really?” Lyra glanced back at her, eyes wide.

Cassie nodded firmly. “Go on.”

With a quick breath, Lyra stepped forward. Cassie watched as Professor McGonagall lowered the battered hat onto her head, its brim twitching the moment it settled in place.McGonagall’s gaze softened just slightly. “One at a time, please.”

“You go first, Lyra,” Cassie said, giving her a gentle nudge.

“Really?” Lyra glanced back at her, eyes wide.

Cassie nodded firmly. “Go on.”

With a quick breath, Lyra stepped forward. Cassie watched as Professor McGonagall lowered the battered hat onto her head, its brim twitching the moment it settled in place.

Lyra went still, her shoulders stiff at first before slowly relaxing. Her lips parted just slightly, as though she were listening to someone Cassie couldn’t hear. Cassie leaned forward unconsciously, desperate to know what the Hat was saying, what it was seeing in Lyra. But of course, it was silent to everyone else.

A minute stretched longer than Cassie thought it should. She held her breath, her hands tightening in her lap. Then—

"GRYFFINDOR!"

MMcGonagall removed the hat as Lyra whipped around, her eyes sparkling. "Guess I’m in Gryffindor!" she said, practically bouncing with excitement.

Cassie laughed softly, feeling a flutter of happiness for her new friend.

"Congrats" she said quietly stepping forward. McGonagall gently lowered the Sorting Hat onto her head, the falling over her eyes.

She pushed it up when a voice echoed in her mind—soft, curious, and probing. Ah… you are clever, perceptive, and cautious. You think before you act. You have a keen sense of right and wrong… but you hide your courage behind careful planning.

Cassie felt a flutter of surprise. But don’t you see? the voice pressed. There’s bravery in you too—bravery you only show to those you trust. You are loyal, steadfast… perhaps even bold when the moment demands it.

Her chest tightened. Bold? Brave? she thought. She had spent so long with only Remus, trying to stay safe, trying not to let the world in… and now, the Hat was asking her to see herself differently.

You will be tested, of course. Danger and challenge will seek you, as it seeks all of Hogwarts’ children. But your heart… your heart will guide you.

Cassie felt a swell of something like pride, mixed with fear. I… I want to do the right thing. I want to be brave.

The voice hummed, satisfied. Very well. Yes… you belong in…"

"GRYFFINDOR!" the voice said out loud.

McGonagall removed the hat from her head, and Cassie spun to meet Lyra’s eyes. “Looks like I’m in Gryffindor too!” she exclaimed, stepping forward to give Lyra a quick, excited hug.

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles. “Ah, Gryffindor! Splendid choice,” he said warmly. “And I see… you two already share quite a bond.” He leaned slightly on his desk, the corners of his mouth curling in amusement. “Such camaraderie makes it all the more fitting for you to share a dormitory.”

Lyra glanced at Cassie, a mixture of surprise and delight lighting her face. Cassie’s lips twitched into a grin. Hogwarts had a way of making the impossible feel perfectly natural.

“Normally, you’d have two other students dorming with you,” Dumbledore continued, “but given your situations and your arrival for the fifth year, you will be sharing a dorm—just the two of you.”

“Really?” Lyra asked, a little too excitedly.

“Yes,” Dumbledore said with a nod. “Arguably the best-case scenario, but…” He pressed a finger to his lips with a playful shush. “But,” he added with a mischievous smile, “before you start celebrating, I believe Professor McGonagall has a few questions for you both.”

At the sound of the door creaking open, Minerva McGonagall stepped in, her sharp gaze softening as it landed on the two girls. “Ah, Miss Thorne, Miss Lark,” she said briskly, “I need to know which electives you might wish to take this year. Once I have that, I can ensure your timetables are arranged properly.”

“What are the options?” Lyra asked, a little sheepishly.

“Arithmancy, Muggle Studies, Divination, Study of Ancient Runes, and Care of Magical Creatures,” McGonagall stated matter-of-factly.

“Let’s do Care of Magical Creatures and Divination,” Lyra said cheerily.

McGonagall wrote them down, then turned to Cassie expectantly.

“Arithmancy and Ancient Runes,” Cassie said, and McGonagall jotted it down. “And, Professor… do you know if there are any classes on healing?”

“There are no specific classes,” McGonagall replied, “but I’m sure if you spoke with Madame Pomfrey—are you interested in healing?”

“Very much so,” Cassie said.

McGonagall gave Dumbledore a knowing look, one that Cassie caught instantly.

“I was wondering if there are any healing tracks… I don’t know, it’s just what I want to do one day,” Cassie explained.

“I will inform Madame Pomfrey for you, but both Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, along with Herbology and Potions, will all help in your healing endeavors,” McGonagall said.

“Thank you, Professor,” Cassie replied.

McGonagall handed both girls their new timetables "your common room is behind the portrait of the fat lady, the password is Fortuna major" the both girls turned for the door.

“Thank you!” Lyra called after her.

“Miss Lark, one more thing—can we speak with you?” Dumbledore asked.

“Uh…” Cassie looked at Lyra, then back to the professors. “Yeah, I’ll… um, meet you out there,” she said to Lyra.

“Kay,” Lyra said, opening one of the oak doors and slipping out.

“Everything all right, Professor?” Cassie asked once they were alone.

“Yes,” Dumbledore said gently. “Professor McGonagall and I wanted to ask you something.”

“Take a seat, Miss Lark,” McGonagall said, gesturing to a chair.

Nerves bubbled in Cassie’s stomach. She’d never been to the Headmaster’s office—mostly because she’d never even been to school before.

Cassie took a tentative seat, hands folded in her lap. Dumbledore’s eyes softened behind his spectacles, while McGonagall regarded her with her usual sharp attentiveness.

“Miss Lark,” Dumbledore began, “I’ve known of Remus’ lycanthropy since he was a boy. And I also know from my visit that you’ve been with him—”

“Twelve years,” Cassie finished, her voice quiet but steady. “And patched him up after full moons for as long as I can remember.”

“And we’d like for you to continue, if that’s what you wish,” McGonagall said.

Dumbledore nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. “Your dedication is extraordinary, Miss Lark. It is rare to see such unwavering loyalty and care at any age, let alone yours.”

McGonagall’s gaze softened slightly. “Indeed. And it is precisely because of this… experience, this devotion, that we would like to entrust you with a special responsibility at Hogwarts this year.”

Cassie’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Responsibility?”

Dumbledore smiled gently. “We would like to make you a prefect, Miss Lark. In this role, you will have the authority and support to continue assisting Mr. Lupin, ensuring he is properly cared for, without unnecessary obstacles.”

McGonagall handed Cassie a shiny red pin that read Prefect.

“That would be amazing,” Cassie said, her eyes lighting up. She looked down at the pin in her hand. “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome, Cassie,” Dumbledore said kindly. “It’s clear he means a great deal to you.”

“He’s my family,” Cassie replied softly.

Dumbledore smiled and gave a small nod. “Thank you, Miss Lark. That is all.”

With a grin, Cassie turned and made her way out of the office.

Lyra was waiting in the corridor. “What’d they want?” she asked as they started toward Gryffindor Tower.

“They actually made me prefect!” Cassie said, holding up the pin.

“Brilliant! That’s amazing, Cass!” Lyra cheered.

“Thanks. I just think it’s mad they’d make a girl they barely know a prefect,” Cassie said, though she knew half the reason why.

“But they know your godfather, right? He went here?” Lyra asked.

“Yeah, he did,” Cassie said with a small smile.

“Then maybe Dumbledore has a good judge of character—or maybe he believes you’re just like him.”

“He’d be right. I’m just like Remus,” Cassie said with a chuckle.

The girls continued walking until they stood before the portrait of the Fat Lady. She was singing—and it wasn’t good.

Cassie cleared her throat. “’Scuse me?”

Nothing. The Fat Lady kept singing.

“Ma’am, um… Fortuna Major?” Lyra tried.

Still nothing.

Cassie leaned toward Lyra, whispering, “How are we supposed to get inside?”

“Fortuna Major!” Lyra said louder.

The portrait didn’t stir.

Cassie gave Lyra a look and nodded. Lyra instantly understood.

“Excuse me!” they both shouted in unison.

The Fat Lady finally stopped, blinking at them. “Oh! Hello there,” she said sweetly. “Password?”

“Fortuna Major,” Cassie said.

“Welcome to Gryffindor common room,” the Fat Lady replied, swinging open.

“Thank you!” Lyra said brightly.

“Thanks,” Cassie echoed as they stepped inside.

The portrait swung open, and instead of the quiet, firelit haven Cassie had been told about, she and Lyra were blasted by thundering music and flashing lights that pulsed across the walls like fireworks.

The Gryffindor common room—normally warm and cozy with its deep-red armchairs, squashy couches, and golden glow from the fire—had been completely transformed. Every inch of space was filled with students laughing, dancing, and shouting over the music. Streamers of scarlet and gold twisted themselves through the rafters, and enchanted lanterns bobbed overhead, casting bursts of shifting color across the crowd. The air smelled faintly of butterbeer and something sugary that sparkled as it fizzed in people’s cups.

Cassie and Lyra exchanged a look. Lyra was grinning ear to ear, while Cassie’s smile was more apprehensive than anything. Lyra started nodding, her eyes glittering with mischief.

“Oh no,” Cassie said quickly. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking we’re going to our dorm, changing, and then coming right back down to this party,” Lyra declared.

“But we have class tomorrow,” Cassie protested, waving her timetable like evidence.

“Have you ever been to a party like this?” Lyra asked, crossing her arms.

“I’ve never been to a party at all, but—”

“All the more reason,” Lyra cut in. “We’re going.” She grabbed Cassie’s hand before she could argue further.

“This is a bad idea!” Cassie called over the pounding music as Lyra pulled her toward the staircase.

“The best ideas are,” Lyra shot back with a grin.

Up in their dorm, Lyra wasted no time flipping open Cassie’s trunk and rummaging through it like it was her own. She pulled out a green tank top.

“Lyra—” Cassie started, trying to grab it back.

“Nope, no arguments,” Lyra said firmly. “You’re not going to that party looking like a grandpa.”

Cassie glanced down at her sweater. “It’s Remus’.”

“And you can wear it anytime,” Lyra countered, holding up the tank top, “but tonight you’re wearing this.”

Cassie sighed, snatched it from her, and tugged it on reluctantly.

Lyra beamed, giving her an approving once-over. “See? You look cute.”

“I feel naked,” Cassie complained.

“Well, you’re not, drama queen,” Lyra shot back.

Cassie sighed again, pulling her wand from the trunk and twisting it into her hair.

Lyra’s eyes lit up. “That is smart and fashionable.”

“Never go anywhere without it,” Cassie said. “Even when Remus took me to London, it was tucked away, hidden, but there if I needed it.”

“Oh… yeah… me too,” Lyra said quickly, then cleared her throat. “Ready to go down?”

“If I have to,” Cassie muttered.

“You do,” Lyra said with a grin.

The girls descended the spiral staircase, the thump of music growing louder with every step. When they stepped into the common room, it was clear the party hadn’t slowed down one bit since they’d first walked in. If anything, it had gotten wilder.

The minute they stepped foot in the common room, Lyra was gone, already off on her own adventure. Cassie didn’t necessarily mind—though, Lyra had been the one to drag her down there—but now the couches in the corner seemed to be calling her name.

Sighing, she walked over and flopped down onto the cushions. Surprisingly, they were empty for a party, and Cassie was grateful for the space. The only thing that could make it better would be a book.

She had kind of zoned out, staring at a plant, when someone plopped down next to her, holding a cup in her line of sight. Startled, she looked up and found a familiar face—one of the boys from the train. She raised an eyebrow quizzically, though her expression wasn’t exactly friendly. Her mind flashed back to earlier that day, when she’d nearly had her head blown off.

“No firework this time,” he teased, a grin tugging at his lips. “Sorry again—my brother’s an idiot.”

Cassie rolled her eyes, thinking back to that mischievous, unapologetic grin she wanted to slap off his face—

“Remind me of your name,” George said, ripping her from her thoughts.

“Cassie.”

“George,” he replied. “It’s nice to formally meet you.”

Cassie smiled genuinely. “Nice to meet you too.” Her eyes flicked to the cup he was still holding in front of her. “Oh, I’m sorry—I don’t drink.”

“Figured,” George said. “It’s just pumpkin juice.”

“That obvious, huh?” Cassie asked.

“From your reaction to my brother accidentally shooting a firework at you, I wouldn’t pin you for someone who enjoys alcohol,” George said.

Cassie shook her head, laughing. “You’d be right.” She took a sip of pumpkin juice and asked, “So… who threw this party, anyway?”

“Fred and I,” George said.

“You know, I’m almost shocked—but no, I’m not,” Cassie replied with a grin.

“Yeah,” George said, leaning back on the couch. “Started in our second year, and it just kind of became a tradition.”

“And you’ve never gotten caught?” Cassie asked.

George shook his head. “Nope. Shocker, I know.”

“I’d say luck,” Cassie said, smirking.

Suddenly, a voice cut through the music. “George! Who are you flirting with?”

Both girls looked over to see George’s twin grinning at them.

George rolled his eyes, leaning back with a lazy smirk. “I’m not—”

Fred’s gaze swung to Cassie, and his grin widened into full recognition. “Well, well, well… look who it is!”

Cassie shut her eyes. “Oh, great,” she muttered under her breath.

“No need to be that way,” Fred said, making his way over to Cassie’s side of the couch and leaning on the armrest.

George snorted beside her. “Fred, leave her alone.”

Fred’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Oh, sure. But first, I think we need a proper introduction.” He winked at Cassie, making her jaw tighten.

“Oh, trying to be cute, are we?” Cassie shot back.

“Cute? Hear that, Georgie? She thinks I’m cute!” Fred said, voice full of playful triumph.

Cassie clenched her fists, nearly crushing the plastic cup in her hand.

“Cass!” Lyra called, dancing her way over to them.

“Glad to see you’re having fun,” Cassie said, her tone half-teasing, half-exasperated.

“I am,” Lyra said, her eyes flicking to the cup. “Cassie Lark! Is that a drink in your hand?”

“Pumpkin juice,” Cassie said quickly, holding it up as proof.

George cleared his throat beside her, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, sorry,” Cassie said, turning to them. “Lyra, these are Fred and George.” She gestured to the twins. “Twins, this is Lyra Thorne.”

Cassie’s eyes flicked between Lyra and George, and she couldn’t help but notice the way they locked gazes for a brief moment. Lyra’s grin softened, just a fraction, and George’s usual mischievous smirk seemed a little warmer, almost… genuine.

Cassie blinked. Uh-huh. Perfect. Sparks flying while I get to sit here and watch.

“What, jealous, Lark?” Fred asked, leaning closer with that infuriating grin.

“Shut up,” Cassie snapped, not even looking at him. “Just… shut up.” She sank deeper into the couch, shutting her eyes against the noise and chaos around her.

This was either going to be the best… or the worst year at Hogwarts.

---

4. Cassie Lark and the Pestering Gnat

After the party, Cassie trudged up the stairs, thankful she’d stuck to pumpkin juice. When the sun slipped through the curtains the next morning, her eyes stung from lack of sleep. She wasn’t even sure what time she’d made it back to her dorm. Apparently she’d forgotten to close the drapes, but the morning light had done its job—she was awake.

Rolling over, she checked the clock—just past six. Early, but she didn’t mind. Better to be early than behind. He eyes drifted to Lyras bed across the room. Empty. Cassie wasn’t concerned. After Lyra and George had met, they were inseparable all night. Meanwhile Fred had pestered Cassie until she finally left. Merlin, he was a nuisance.

She only hoped Lyra was still in the common room. She didn’t bother changing out of her pajamas. She shoved off her duvet, sliding her feet into slippers and padded back down to the common room. To her surprise, the place was spotless—perks of magic I guess.

Cassie’s eyes swept the room, and—no surprise—there was Lyra, curled up on the couch with a blanket tucked over her shoulders. Across from her, George had blacked out in an armchair, limbs folded at odd angles as if the chair had swallowed him whole. Cassie smirked to herself; he’d definitely be paying for that position later.

A sleepy smile tugged at her lips as Cassie padded over and crouched beside Lyra.

“Lyr,” she whispered, giving her shoulder a gentle shake. “Lyra.”

Lyra’s eyes cracked open, unfocused at first, like her brain was still trying to catch up.
“Cassie… hi,” she mumbled groggily. “Mm, what time is it?” She rubbed at her eyes.

“Just past six. Breakfast isn’t for an hour—you’ve got time.”

Lyra only nodded, dragging herself upright. “Think I’m gonna shower,” she muttered.

Cassie chuckled softly. “Good plan. You definitely smell like a party.”

Lyra gave her a look that was more squint than glare, then turned for the stairs. “My head hurts,” she grumbled, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders as she disappeared up toward the dorms.

Cassie waited until her footsteps faded before turning her attention to freckle-face. George was still slumped awkwardly in the armchair, dead to the world. He might’ve been the nicer twin, but she had a few questions for him, and frankly, his sleeping habits weren’t important to her.

“George,” she called flatly.

His eyes snapped open instantly, body jerking upright as if he’d been jolted by a curse. Wand half-drawn, he blinked around wildly before landing on Cassie.

“Merlin’s beard—” he exhaled, sagging back into the chair. “You trying to give me a heart attack, Lark?”

Cassie raised an unimpressed brow. “I said your name. Not exactly a battle cry.”

“Right, I’m up,” he said, throwing his hands in the air. “Whatcha want?”

“Lyra—she okay last night?” Cassie asked, gesturing to the empty couch.

George grinned, a little fondly. “Yeah, we talked until the common room emptied out. Then she crashed. Totally fine.”

“And she had fun, right?” Cassie added with a smirk, already knowing the answer.

George’s grin softened, a hint of something almost shy in his expression. “Yeah… she laughed a lot. I think she liked it. More than I probably did.”

His ears were tinged pink, and as much as Cassie wanted to comment, she swallowed it, content knowing Lyra had been taken care of.

“You put the blanket on her?” Cassie asked.

George nodded. “Yeah. It gets cold up here, even with the fire.”

Cassie nodded in response.

“Were you worried?” George asked.

“No, I was actually too tired to think about it last night,” she chuckled.

She wasn’t worried, not really. But a small, protective tug lingered in her chest—Lyra had been the first person Cassie had truly connected with at Hogwarts, after expecting to be alone.

“She was safe, Cassie,” George said.

“I believe you,” she teased, then softened, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, cracking his neck with a hiss. “Bloody Merlin’s beard… never sleeping in that chair like that again.” He pushed himself upright.

Cassie shook her head, chuckling quietly.

“See you two at breakfast then?” he asked, already heading for the stairs.

“Will your brother be there?” she asked with a grumble.

“I have, like, a million siblings—they’ll all be there. But yes, to your dismay, Fred will be there,” George said.

Cassie groaned, hunching over and letting her arms drop as she trudged toward the stairs.

When she pushed open the door to their room, the curtains were drawn, and Lyra was tucked into bed, fast asleep. Cassie sighed, stepping in and shutting the door behind her.

“Lyraaa,” Cassie sang to the melody of Maria from West Side Story, an American film Remus had shown her (she wasn’t sure why). She liked the music—it often got stuck in her head—and she much preferred it to Romeo and Juliet. “Lyra, Lyra,” she continued.

Lyra flopped a hand over her face. “What?” she croaked.

“Do you want to eat breakfast or not?” Cassie asked, crossing her arms.

It was like Cassie had spoken the magic words. Lyra’s ears visibly perked up at the thought of Hogwarts’ delicious food. She sat up like a zombie emerging from a coffin. “Food?”

“Yes, food! And what happened to showering?” Cassie asked, tilting her head.

“Yeah yeah, mum,” Lyra said flatly, shuffling toward the bathroom.

Cassie smiled smugly and turned to her trunk. It was already a mess after she’d tiredly dug through it for pajamas the night before—shirts and trousers spilling out the sides. She had insisted on bringing far too much, so there was an extension charm on it; a near bottomless pit of her belongings. Sighing, she opened the wardrobe in front of her to start putting things away.

Two sets of Gryffindor uniforms and robes hung neatly in the center. That explained why robes hadn’t been on their supply list. On either side were cubbies of varying sizes for their clothes, with a shelf above perfectly fitted for their trunks. Below were two drawers, already filled with winter accessories—scarves, mittens, beanies, and more.

The shower shut off, followed by Lyra’s voice. “Hey, Cass, you think you can bring me clothes?”

The shower shut off, followed by Lyra’s voice. “Hey, Cass, you think you can bring me clothes?”

“I actually just found our robes,” Cassie called back. “Give me two seconds.”

Collecting what Lyra would need, Cassie knocked twice. The door cracked open and steam curled into the dorm, warm air brushing her face. She chuckled.

Lyra, wrapped in a towel, dried her hands on it quickly before taking the clothes. “Thank you!” she said brightly.

Cassie nodded with a small smile, turning back toward the trunk. The sight of it made her sigh again. “I’ll do it later,” she muttered, moving to grab her own uniform from the wardrobe.

Moments later, Lyra emerged in full Gryffindor getup. She twirled once. “How do I look?”

“Oh, magnificent,” Cassie said—teasing, but genuine.

Lyra’s eyes flicked to the robes in Cassie’s hands. “Your turn. Go.” She was already shoving Cassie toward the bathroom.

“Alright, alright,” Cassie chuckled, batting her away and closing the door behind her. Both girls were buzzing with excitement for their first real day at Hogwarts, but Lyra practically radiated it.

When Cassie came out, adjusting her tie, Lyra was sitting cross-legged on her bed, twisting her hair around her wand.

“What are you doing?” Cassie asked, brow raised.

“Fixing my hair. This is way easier than using my fingers.”

Cassie tilted her head, impressed despite herself. “That is… very practical.”

Lyra grinned. “Kind of stole the idea from you, actually. You used your wand to tie your hair back last night.”

“Keeps it out of my face,” Cassie shrugged.

“Exactly. And you’ll have to show me how to do that. But the wand’s the perfect size for stubborn curls.”

Cassie smirked, twisting her wand into her own hair. “Great minds think alike. All ready, then?”

“Definitely.”

They collected their things—timetables most important—and headed down toward the Great Hall. Cassie kept hers in hand, trying to commit the schedule to memory. It wasn’t the classes she worried about, it was finding them in a castle this size. Hopefully she’d make it through the day without embarrassing herself too much.

Lyra, meanwhile, was staring at everything with wide-eyed awe. She’d been too caught up in the Sorting and getting to their dorm the night before to really look. Now, the castle’s endless bits of magic had her gawking like a first-year tourist.

“Lyra,” Cassie said, pulling her back. “What classes do you have today?”

“Potions and Tranfiguration before lunch, care of Magical Creatures and Charms after. You?”

“Ancient Runes, free period, Herbology, then History of Magic. Haven’t decided if I want to see Pomfrey during my free period or after—I kind of want to check in on Remus.”

“I’d love to actually meet him at some point,” Lyra said. “You speak so highly of him.”

“It’s Remus. He’s the best.” Cassie smirked. “And now he’s Professor Lupin.”

There was a beat before she snorted. “No way in hell am I ever calling him ‘Professor Lupin.’”

“Wouldn’t that be disrespecting a teacher?” Lyra teased, her eyes glinting.

Cassie smirked wider. “I call him ‘old man’ at home. Besides, if Remus ever tried giving me detention—which I highly doubt he would—he’d never hear the end of it.”

Lyra burst out laughing, which only made Cassie laugh too.

“You’re a menace,” Lyra said, shaking her head.

Cassie nudged her shoulder. “Shut up.”

Passing the threshold into the Great Hall, still giggling, they were hit with the smell of breakfast—warm bread, sizzling bacon, and roasted tomatoes invading their nostrils in the best possible way.

At the Gryffindor table, chaos was already in full swing. Fred and George were flicking bits of toast back and forth with their wands like it was a professional sport, laughing as if the concept of rules didn’t exist.

Lyra’s eyes lingered on George—just for a second—but Cassie caught it. Her lips tilted into the kind of smile that gave her away immediately.

Cassie narrowed her eyes, smirking. “I saw that.”

Lyra blinked, wide-eyed. “Saw what?”

“That look. Don’t play dumb, Thorne.” Cassie arched a brow. “I saw you two frolicking off at the party last night, leaving me all alone.” She put on a mock pout. “And now this. You’ve got a little thing for him, don’t you?”

Lyra flushed, eyes darting down to cobbled floor. “I don’t know. Maybe? It’s too soon to tell.”

Cassie leaned in, smug as ever. “Uh-huh. ‘Too soon.’ Yeah, right. Forgive me if I don’t exactly buy that.”

Lyra only shrugged, but a smile tugged at her lips. “Guess we’ll have to see.”

From the table, George spotted them and waved them over.

Cassie groaned under her breath, rolling her eyes at both her friend and the cruel twist of fate she already knew was coming: Lyra would beeline for George, and Cassie would end up exactly where she least wanted to be—planted next to Fred.

“Good morning, Larkie,” he said as she slipped onto the bench beside him.

“It was good,” she grumbled, already regretting sitting down.

Across from her, Lyra had nestled comfortably next to George, and the two were chatting away like they’d been friends for years.

“Sleep well?” George asked, voice soft.

Lyra nodded, ears tinged pink. “That couch is more comfortable than I thought.”

“So, Larkie,” Fred broke in, leaning far too close. “What’d you think of the party?”

Cassie winced at the nickname. “It was… fine, I guess.”

“Fine?” Fred gasped in mock scandal, clutching his chest. “Georgie, sounds like we’ve got to up our party game.”

“Huh?” George blinked, dragged from his conversation with Lyra. “What?” He glanced at his brother in confusion, then immediately turned back to Lyra without waiting for an explanation.

The corner of Cassie’s mouth betrayed her, quirking up.

“Ah, so she does smile,” Fred crowed triumphantly.

Her smile dropped instantly as she turned her head, glaring at him in silence.

Fred only gave a smug shrug and turned back to his plate, utterly pleased with himself. Cassie rolled her eyes and finally gave in to the heavenly smell of breakfast wafting through the Hall—she was hungrier than she thought.

She picked up her fork, stabbing two pieces of French toast and sliding them onto her plate before filling her glass with orange juice.

“Careful, Larkie,” Fred drawled, plucking a napkin and dropping it neatly into her lap. “Wouldn’t want you to stain those perfectly pressed robes.”

Cassie arched a brow. “Right, thanks, Mum. Got a bib in that pocket of yours too?”

He grinned. “Don’t tempt me. I could charm one up.”

Cassie muttered something under her breath about how he probably needed one more than she did, cutting into her French toast with more force than necessary.

Across the table, George leaned toward Lyra, his expression softening. “So, first impressions of Hogwarts?”

Lyra’s eyes lit up. “Even better than I imagined. I feel like I could spend days just wandering the castle. Have you ever gotten lost?”

George chuckled. “Only about a hundred times. But getting lost is half the fun.”

Cassie glanced up at the sound of Lyra’s laugh, catching the way George’s gaze lingered on her friend a little too long.

“So,” he said with mock seriousness, “what do you think of the breakfast, Larkie? Or is French toast only ‘fine, I guess,’ too?”

Cassie narrowed her eyes, her fork clinking against her plate. “Careful, Weasley. I might decide this fork works just as well on you.”

“No need to be violent,” he teased, leaning just a little closer. His voice dropped into something conspiratorial. “Those two are already getting along so well, aren’t they?”

“Yep.” Cassie said flatly, scooping eggs onto her plate.

“I mean, they were practically attached at the hip all last night,” Fred went on. “Barely even saw my own twin—the closest I got was a look in the mirror.”

Cassie turned her head, startled to find him much closer than she expected. Her brows arched. “Do you need something, or do you just plan on jabbering my ear off?”

Fred only grinned wider at her sharp tone, clearly delighted. “Jabbering, mostly. It’s one of my many talents. Some say it’s charming.”

“Oh, is that how you get the girls?” she asked, taking a sip of orange juice. “They think it’s cute, don’t they? ‘So charming,’” she mocked, clasping her hands together in an exaggerated swoon.

“Ouch.” He clutched his chest theatrically. “Right to the heart. You wound me, Larkie.”

“Good. Maybe you’ll shut up for five minutes.”

“Not likely,” he said easily, leaning back just enough to swipe another piece of toast. He took a slow, exaggerated bite, never breaking eye contact. “Face it—you’d miss me if I stopped talking.”

Cassie shot him a glare that could curdle milk, but Fred only smirked wider.

Across the table, Lyra laughed at something George said, their conversation animated and easy. Fred tilted his head toward them, mischief dancing in his eyes. “See? They’ve already got their little thing. Guess that just leaves us, doesn’t it?”

Cassie grimaced. “Merlin forbid.”

Before Fred could push her buttons further, her eye caught the trio entering the Great Hall—Ron, Harry, and Hermione. They were focused on a boy at the Slytherin table, who seemed to be putting on an impressively dramatic reenactment of the train ride, complete with an exaggerated swoon and high-pitched squeals.

“Morning, George,” Harry greeted flatly as he slid onto the bench on George’s other side. George grinned, shifting just enough to make space, and Lyra’s smile brightened instinctively.

Ron dropped down beside Fred with a muttered, “Starving,” already piling eggs and bacon onto his plate.

And then Hermione appeared, sliding into the empty seat next to Cassie. Relief bloomed in Cassie’s chest at the unexpected rescue.

“Morning,” Hermione said warmly, already reaching for the jug of pumpkin juice.

“Morning,” Cassie echoed with a grateful nod, sparing Fred one last withering look across Hermione’s head.

Fred only smirked knowingly, clearly enjoying that her reprieve was temporary at best.

“Third-year timetables,” George said, passing them along. He noticed the annoyed look on Harry’s face. He glanced at the Slytherin table, then back. “Malfoy’s a git, Harry. Don’t let him bother you.”

Hermione, who had been quiet the whole time was focused on her schedule

“Yeah, Harry,” Fred added. “He wasn’t so bold last night when the Dementors came down our end of the train.”

George chuckled. “Came running straight into our compartment, didn’t he, Fred?”

“Nearly wet himself at the sight,” Fred said, grinning.

“It does put things in perspective,” George said. “I mean, Dementors suck the life out of everything.”

“Our compartment was bloody freezing,” Fred said.

“Ours too,” Cassie added, glancing at Harry.

“Yeah, but you lot didn’t pass out, did you?” Harry snapped, his voice low.

“Forget about it, Harry,” Cassie replied.

“Yeah, mate,” George assured him, “had Malfoy come face-to-face with a Dementor, he’d have fainted too.”

“Word travels fast here,” Lyra said, wide-eyed.

“Indeed it does,” George confirmed.

“How do you two know so much about Dementors?” Ron asked confused.

“Dad went to Azkaban with the Ministry and told us about them, remember, Fred?” George said.

“He said it was cold and gray… and that he saw prisoners who had gone mad in there.”

“You reckon Black went mad?” Ron asked, brow furrowed.

“Black was already mad,” Harry said quietly. “He’s the reason my parents are gone.”

Cassie’s eye twitched at the reminder.

“All this to say, Harry,” George said with a grin, “the first Quidditch match is Gryffindor versus Slytherin. Let’s see how happy Malfoy is after that one.”

During the conversation, Hermione had been quietly scanning her timetable.

“Oh, we’re starting new subjects today. Good,” she said happily.

Cassie leaned over just as Ron got up and came around the back to look over Hermione’s shoulder.

“Uh, Hermione…” he frowned after scanning her schedule, pointing at the parchment. “I think they messed up your schedule. They’ve got you down for ten subjects a day—there isn’t enough time in the day for that.”

“Don’t worry, Ron,” Hermione said briskly. “I’ll manage. I’ve already spoken with McGonagall.”

“Hang on, that’s not possible.” Ron jabbed at the parchment again. “Ancient Runes is at the same time as Divination. You’d have to be in two classes at once.”

“Don’t be silly, Ronald. How could anyone be in two classes at once?” she said, making the table laugh.

“I’m just saying, maybe check that out one more time,” Ron muttered.

“I just have a full schedule, Ron. I’ll survive. As I said, I spoke with McGonagall.”

Just then, the huge man Dumbledore had introduced last night—Hagrid—entered the Great Hall. He wore a moleskin overcoat, with a dead rodent dangling from one hand and more strung around his neck like grotesque accessories.

Cassie grimaced.

“All righ’?” Hagrid asked cheerily, stopping at their table, his country twang thick. He beamed at the trio. “Yer in my firs’ ever lesson after lunch! Bin up since five gettin’ everythin’ ready. Can’t believe I’m a teacher!” He grinned broadly, then lumbered off toward the staff table, still swinging the rodent.

“What do you think he’s been getting ready?” Ron asked anxiously.

“I’m not sure,” Harry said, “but we’d better go. Divination’s at the top of North Tower—it’ll take at least ten minutes to get there.”

The boys stood and started off, leaving Cassie to turn to Hermione.

“So, you’ve got Ancient Runes this morning?” Cassie asked.

“Yes! Do you?” Hermione’s eyes lit up.

Cassie nodded. “Shall we go then, Miss Granger?”

“We shall, Miss…”

“Lark,” Fred cut in helpfully.

“Sod off, Weasley,” Cassie said, rolling her eyes. She stood and grabbed Hermione’s wrist. “We’re going. Bye, Lyra. Bye, George.”

Both offered their goodbyes.

“See you later, Larkie!” Fred called after her.

“Hopefully won’t!” she shot back over her shoulder.

“So you’re still bickering?” Hermione asked as they left the Great Hall.

“He hasn’t stopped bothering me since yesterday,” Cassie said, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“He’s incessant,” Hermione agreed. “They both are.”

“George is actually rather nice to me. I like him more. Plus, I think he might have a little thing for my dorm mate.”

“That the girl sitting next to him?” Hermione asked. “I meant to introduce myself—say hello.”

“I’ll introduce you two later if you'd like,” Cassie promised.

“Thank you,” Hermione said warmly.

The two girls climbed their way up the stairs to the sixth floor, heading for Professor Babbling’s classroom. Hermione took the lead, clearly knowing the castle better than Cassie did.

“I wish I could have a guide all day,” Cassie muttered. “It’s so much easier than pulling out my timetable every five minutes.”

Hermione laughed. “I know. Before I even got here, I read the entirety of Hogwarts: A History. That helped a bit—but still, it wasn’t easy finding my way around this labyrinth of a school.”

“I read parts of Hogwarts: A History but never finished,” Cassie admitted. “Are your parents wizards?”

“No, they’re Muggles—dentists, actually. But they support me, and I’m grateful for that.” Hermione smiled, though she flushed slightly. “And Professor Lupin supports you, I assume?”

“Yeah, Moo—Remus is the best,” Cassie said quickly, correcting herself and hoping Hermione hadn’t caught the slip. “He’s supported me for years, and I’ve supported him in turn.”

Hermione tilted her head, curious. “And your parents? Are they magical as well?”

Cassie hesitated, her gaze dropping to the stone steps beneath their feet. “They were. Both healers. They passed when I was young, and Remus—being my godfather, like I told you on the train—he took me in.”

Hermione’s face fell. “Oh, Cassie, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up anything you wouldn’t want to—”

“It’s alright, Hermione. Really.” Cassie offered a small, steady smile. “I’m okay."

Hermione nodded in understanding, but her mind was already churning. “Healers, you said?”

Cassie nodded. “Yeah. Remus tells me they were brilliant. One day I hope I could get to even half of what they were.”

“Ah, so you want to be a Healer too?” Hermione asked, her eyes lighting with interest.

Cassie nodded again, a little more firmly this time. “Ever since I heard what my parents did for people… helping, healing—it just feels right. Like carrying them with me.”

Hermione smiled softly. “That’s wonderful, Cassie.”

“Thanks.” Cassie smiled sheepishly. “This is one of the classes I’ve read will help. Runes are a huge part of Healing,” she added as they reached the door.

“Oh, are they?” Hermione tilted her head. “I was curious about all the electives, so…I might have selected all of them.”

Cassie leaned against the stone wall just outside the classroom, brow furrowing. “Yeah, I noticed when I saw your timetable at breakfast. How—” She trailed off, giving Hermione a look.

Hermione glanced around quickly, then leaned in. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Cassie leaned in too, eyes gleaming. “Tell me.”

Hermione tugged something from beneath her collar—a delicate gold chain with a strange pendant. In its center was a tiny hourglass, framed by gold and circled with two delicate rings. “This is called a Time-Turner,” she whispered.

Cassie blinked. “What is it, some sort of time travel device?” she asked dryly.

“Exactly that.”

Cassie’s eyes widened, then she grinned. “Oh, wow. I am just a genius.”

Hermione tried not to laugh. “It’s how I can get to all those classes. Professor McGonagall gave it to me early this morning.”

Cassie shook her head with a smirk. “Hermione, you little sneak, you.”

Hermione shrugged, flashing a coy smile, then suddenly jabbed a finger beneath Cassie’s nose. “You tell nobody about this.”

Cassie raised both hands in surrender. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Good.” Hermione dropped her hand, though her eyes still glinted with warning.

Cassie chuckled. “You’re scary, ’Mione.”

“It’s how I get those boys to listen to me,” Hermione said primly. She nodded toward the door. “Now, I’m sure Professor Babbling is itching to start class.”

The girls took their seats as a few stragglers filtered into the room. When the classroom at last fell still and the last parchment was unrolled, Professor Babbling stood at the front.

“Good morning, students, and welcome to Ancient Runes,” she announced, her voice bright and businesslike.

The lesson began, the scrape of quills as students took notes filling the air.

By the time they were dismissed, Cassie had already finished half of the assignment and felt rather accomplished.

“I really liked that class,” Hermione said as they gathered their things.

“Professor Babbling is so knowledgeable,” Cassie gushed. “She’s like a total genius.”

Hermione smiled in agreement. “And the way she explains the etymology of the runes—it’s fascinating. I’m glad I chose this subject.”

“I’m glad too,” Cassie said as they walked together into the corridor, books clutched to their chests. “If every class feels like that, I might actually survive this year.”

They laughed softly, their voices echoing against the stone walls as they walked toward the staircases.

“I’m going up,” Cassie said, shifting her books in her arms. “I’m going to visit Remus, see how he’s doing.”

“That’s sweet,” Hermione said with a smile. “I’m off to my next two classes.” She gave a little laugh, shaking her head. “Hopefully I can keep up.”

“You’ll manage,” Cassie teased. “You’ve got time on your side, after all.”

Hermione rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her grin. “See you at lunch?”

“Definitely—you’re my saving grace against Fred.” Cassie waved as they split off at the stairs, each heading their separate ways.

Cassie found Defence Against the Dark Arts easily enough, her timetable pointing her to the seventh floor.

Pushing open the door, she stepped into a room half-buried in stacks of boxes and bare bookshelves. Remus stood with his back to her, arms folded as though he were surveying the chaos. He hadn’t heard her enter. With a soft click, she shut the door behind her.

“Hey, Moony!” Cassie called brightly.

Remus turned, a tired look on his face, though his arms relaxed when he saw her. “Thank Merlin you’re here. I wasn’t sure I’d manage all this on my own.”

“So basically you’re using me as your personal slave,” Cassie teased.

“That’s why I agreed to be your godfather,” Remus replied dryly.

“Ouch, Moons.” Cassie clutched her chest in mock offence. “Love you too.”

Remus chuckled as Cassie eyed the empty bookshelves.

“How’s your morning been?” she asked, slipping off her cloak and hanging it neatly on the coat hanger by the door.

“Good. Filch dropped these off earlier,” Remus said, nodding to the stack of boxes. “McGonagall’s given me today to get everything in order. Classes start for me tomorrow.”

“That’s nice,” Cassie said.

Remus raised an eyebrow at her. “Shouldn’t you be in class, young lady?”

“This is my class, old man,” she retorted, already crouching beside a stack of books. “I’ve got a free period.”

“Oh, do you now?” Remus said, amused.

Cassie nodded. “Meaning I’ll be hanging out in here every Thursday from 10:15 to 11:45.” She’d already begun sorting through the pile, separating textbooks from novels and shelving them with ease.

“Not being a distraction, of course,” Remus remarked.

“Of course not,” Cassie said sweetly, plucking a book from the stack and setting it aside for herself.

Behind her, Remus dug into a box and pulled out their home record player. Carrying it over to the table by the window, he set it down and began fiddling with the knobs.

Cassie glanced over, a smile spreading across her face. “You brought it?”

“Of course I brought it,” Remus said without looking up. “I’m barely surviving on my own—music might be the only thing keeping me going.”

“Strike two, Moony,” Cassie warned, holding up two fingers.

“Only joking,” he said quickly, a faint grin tugging at his mouth.

Cassie rolled her eyes and went back to sorting. After about half an hour of steady organising, she had her own neat stack set aside. Straightening with a soft groan, she stretched until her hips popped in a satisfying way, then gathered the books in her arms.

Crossing to the coat rack by the door, she set them carefully on the floor next to her cloak so she wouldn’t forget them when she left.

“Your own personal library now, am I?” Remus asked, nodding toward the stack she’d made.

Cassie only shrugged as she wandered over to him. “Just using my resources.”

“We do have a rather large library here, Cass,” Remus pointed out, pulling a bundle of oddly shaped candles from the box—each one carved to look like a human spine.

Cassie eyed them warily as he set them down. “Right, but I doubt the library has the sort of things I’d actually want to read for leisure. I’ll save the old tomes and textbooks for study.”

“Fair enough,” Remus chuckled.

Cassie’s eyes roamed the half-unpacked room. “Is Madame Pomfrey the school’s matron?” Cassie asked, recalling her conversation with McGonagall.

Remus’s eyes went wide for a moment, though Cassie didn’t notice as she explored. “Y-yes, she is.”

“I asked McGonagall last night after the Sorting—”

Remus interrupted, a grin tugging at his lips. “I completely forgot to say something—congratulations on Gryffindor.”

Cassie whipped around to look at him. “I didn’t tell you—how—?”

Remus pointed at her tie.

Cassie nodded, then continued, turning back to look around the room. “So after the Sorting, I was asking Professor McGonagall about any healing courses. She said there aren’t any specifically, but that I should speak with Madame Pomfrey about it. That’s my plan for when I finish classes today.”

Remus was quiet, which made Cassie turn toward him, a line forming between her brows. His expression carried a faint, almost sad smile.

“What?” Cassie asked, concerned.

Remus sighed. “I guess I never told you about Poppy, did I?”

“Poppy? That a girl you dated or something?” Cassie asked, eyebrow raised.

Remus laughed. “No. Poppy Pomfrey. For seven years, she escorted me to the Shrieking Shack once a month, made sure I was safe, even arranged a spot in the hospital wing for me after the full moon if I needed it… all while genuinely caring for me. Closest I had to a mother while mine was in the hospital.”

Cassie smiled softly, both teasing and sincere. “So that’s how you survived Hogwarts all those years without accidentally killing anyone.”

“Yes, that is how I did that,” Remus said flatly. “Merlin,” he rubbed his face, “haven’t seen her in years. I should pay her a visit, let her know I’m alive.”

“Come with me then,” Cassie said. “I’m sure she’d be happy to see you. Plus, I might score some brownie points if she knows I’m your goddaughter who’s been patching you up for years.”

“You’re such a little schemer,” Remus said, shaking his head with a low chuckle.

“The offer still stands,” Cassie replied, a small grin tugging at her lips.

“Alright,” Remus said. “Meet you at the hospital wing after classes.”

Cassie clapped her hands gleefully. “See you after classes, then.” She pivoted back toward the coat hanger, slinging her cloak over her shoulder and scooping up the stack of books. “See you later, Moons. You’re welcome for the help.”

Remus chuckled. “See you later, Cass. And thanks for the help.”

With that, the door clicked shut behind her. The Gryffindor common room wasn’t far from the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, both tucked away on the seventh floor. After trying not to lose her temper with the Fat Lady’s portrait, she was finally admitted inside. She hurried upstairs, dropped the books on her bed, and threw her cloak back on before heading straight back out. Not before grabbing The Count of Monte Cristo from her bed and shoving it into her bag.

When Cassie slipped into the Great Hall and started toward the Gryffindor table, she barely registered Lyra barreling toward her until she was suddenly wrapped up in a hug.

“It’s been ages since I saw you!” Lyra exclaimed, clinging tight.

“Two classes,” Cassie laughed, still making her way to the table with Lyra hanging off her.

“Don’t push my love away,” Lyra whined, though she was laughing too.

At the Gryffindor table, the twins were already waiting. George sat with his arms crossed, leaning back on the bench, while Fred rested his chin in his hand, a self-satisfied smirk painted across his face.

Cassie narrowed her eyes at him as she once again slid onto the bench beside him, letting Lyra plop down next to George.

“How’s your morning been, larkie?” Fred asked smoothly.

“Fine,” Cassie replied lightly, scooping shepherd’s pie onto her plate. She immediately cut into it and popped a bite into her mouth, hoping the food would act as a barrier against further conversation.

She was gravely mistaken.

“I bet your classes this morning were so boring without me,” Fred said, swinging his legs over the bench, arms crossed as he leaned back against the table.

“Actually, I thought about how nice it was not to have you in my classes,” Cassie said, not looking up from her plate.

“Hear that, Georgie? She thinks about me.” Fred’s grin widened.

“You’re going to get yourself punched,” George said in a sing-song voice, earning a quiet giggle from Lyra.

“I think about how to avoid you,” Cassie shot back.

Fred leaned in, all mock seriousness. “Still counts.”

Cassie finally glanced at him, unimpressed. “You’re like a gnat in the summer.”

George snickered into his goblet.

“You’re quick, Larkie,” Fred said, his smirk softening for a fraction before snapping back to teasing as he flicked a green pea onto her plate.

“How much longer of lunch?” Cassie groaned, burying her face in her hands.

Lyra sucked in air through her teeth like it physically hurt. “It’s been ten minutes…”

Cassie groaned again, earning another round of laughter from the table.

“Come on, Thorne, you’re supposed to be on my side!” Cassie complained, shooting a look at her friend across from her.

Lyra cleared her throat, though the giggles escaping her betrayed her. “Team Cassie, always,” she said, saluting before cracking up.

Cassie snatched up the pea Fred had flicked onto her plate and sent it soaring—landing squarely between Lyra’s eyebrows. “You suck,” she muttered, a grin tugging at her lips.

Fred’s pestering had quieted as he ate his lunch while Lyra and George whispered back and forth, completely absorbed in each other. Cassie pulled her book from her bag, settling into a rare moment of peace. She’d gotten through two short chapters and was just starting the third when she felt Fred’s presence creep up behind her.

“Whatcha readin’?” he murmured, his breath brushing her neck.

Cassie wrinkled her nose, leaning slightly away. “The Count of Monte Cristo.”

“And… what’s it about?” he pressed.

“Well, I’m barely three chapters in,” she said flatly, eyes returning to the page.

“Any good?” Fred persisted, leaning just a little too close.

“Not sure yet,” Cassie replied, a hint of irritation in her voice. “I’m barely three chapters in.”

Fred fell quiet for a moment, letting Cassie dive back into her book. Then, both of them looked up as a burst of laughter cut through the air—Lyra, caught mid-whisper with George, clearly amused by something only the two of them understood.

Again, Fred leaned in. “They just keep getting closer, don’t they?”

Cassie didn’t look up from her book. “Both emotionally and physically,” she muttered.

Fred leaned back slightly, smirking. “I’d bet five Galleons they’re practically inseparable by the time exams roll around.”

Cassie peeked over her book, eyes narrowing at the pair in front of them, completely oblivious to the world. “You’re on,” she said, “By Christmas.”

Fred chuckled, shaking his head. “You’ve got guts, Larkie.”

As if sensing eyes on them, Lyra and George glanced back. Fred quickly looked away, whistling innocently. Cassie pressed her nose deeper into her book, hiding the smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

The second half of Cassie’s day passed quickly. Her first class after lunch was Herbology, which she genuinely enjoyed. Professor Sprout was kind, and she met a lovely boy named Neville, who had a remarkable affinity for plants. He seemed a bit nervous himself, but his presence helped Cassie feel at ease in the classroom.

Next was History of Magic with Professor Binns, who, as it happened, was a ghost. Cassie tried her absolute hardest to stay awake and pay attention, but his monotone voice was incredibly soothing, and, to be honest, she wasn’t particularly interested in goblin rebellions. By the end of class, she was thoroughly tired and tempted to head back to the dorm for a nap, but she reminded herself of her plan to meet Remus and visit Madame Pomfrey.

Making her way from the first floor up to the seventh, she spotted Remus at the end of the corridor—his tall, imposing figure making him seem almost giant-like—and followed him, grateful for the familiar presence guiding her straight to the hospital wing.

"Hey, Remus," Cassie waved as she approached him. "You got here quick."

"My class is on this floor," he reminded her.

"Oh, right," Cassie said with a shrug. "Well… are you ready?"

"No," Remus said flatly, arms crossed.

"Let's go then!" Cassie declared, grabbing his arm and tugging him toward the door.

When she pushed it open, the familiar smell of antiseptic mingled with the soft, herbal scent of lavender, washing over her. The hospital wing was bright and airy, the sunlight spilling through tall windows onto rows of pristine beds, each neatly made with crisp white sheets and small pillows. A few enchanted curtains hung between the beds, ready to provide privacy when needed, and the faint hum of softly glowing lamps added a gentle warmth to the room. Cassie’s eyes wandered over the orderly shelves lined with neatly labelled bottles, tinctures, and bandages, giving the place a quiet, purposeful calm that contrasted with the chaotic energy of Hogwarts’ other corridors.

Remus followed behind, his gaze scanning the room as if measuring it anew. "Both everything and nothing has changed."

"Be right with you!" a voice called from somewhere near the back.

"She sounds exactly the same," Remus murmured.

Cassie smiled, warmth blooming in her chest.

The clack of heels echoed against the polished stone floors, and moments later a woman with a kind face appeared around the corner. Her grey hair was neatly pulled back beneath a cap, its fabric trailing down her back. She wore a deep red cloak-dress with a crisp white apron over it. Her eyes landed on Cassie first, her expression gentle—until they lifted to the tall figure next to her. Her face faltered, not with sadness, but with sheer astonishment.

“R-Remus?” she breathed, her hands creeping toward her mouth.

Remus nodded, holding back a larger smile. “Hi, Poppy,” he said softly.

With the confirmation that it truly was him, Madame Pomfrey strode forward, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck and tug him down into a hug. He folded her into his arms in return, and for a moment, it was as though he’d come home.

“Goodness, how have you been?” she asked, pulling back just enough to plant her hands on either side of his face, turning his head this way and that in a fussing, motherly way.

“I’ve been well,” Remus sighed happily.

“Good, good,” she said, her voice thick with relief.

They stood there a moment, smiling at each other—Remus with his hands shoved into his pockets, and Pomfrey with her eyes glassy, as though one more word might make her cry.

Cassie’s smile widened as she watched them, touched by the tenderness of their reunion. Then Pomfrey’s gaze flicked to her.

“Oh—oh, I’m so sorry, dear,” she said with a sniffle. “What can I do for you?”

Before Cassie could answer, Remus chuckled and stepped up behind her, resting both hands gently on her shoulders.

“Poppy,” he began with quiet pride, “meet Cassie—my goddaughter.”

The way his voice swelled with affection, paired with the look on Pomfrey’s face, was enough to undo her. A couple of tears slipped down her cheeks before she swept Cassie into her arms.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Cassie,” she said warmly as she pulled back, both hands now cupping the girl’s shoulders.

“Lovely to meet you too,” Cassie replied with a soft smile.

Pomfrey dabbed at her eyes but brightened quickly. “Come, come—no need to stand about. Let’s go into my office.” She turned back the way she came.

Cassie hesitated only a moment before Remus gave her a gentle nudge forward. She looked up at him, caught his reassuring smile, and returned it. Then together, they followed Madame Pomfrey toward her office.

As they both settled into the chairs in Madame Pomfrey’s office, two steaming cups of tea floated gracefully to them.

“Sugar?” she asked.

“Two,” they both said at once.

With a knowing little smile, Pomfrey flicked her wand, dropping two cubes into each cup before passing them over. Taking her own seat, she studied Cassie with a furrowed brow. Cassie held her breath under the weight of her gaze.

“You look so very familiar,” Pomfrey murmured at last. “Though I know I’ve never seen you before—I remember every student who’s come through this hospital wing.” Her eyes lingered, Cassie noticed, on the wand pinned through her hair.

Cassie flicked a glance at Remus, who met her look steadily.

“There’s a good chance you knew my parents,” Cassie said carefully. “Elodie Evans and Nicholas Lark.”

Pomfrey’s eyes widened, her hand lifting to her mouth before a smile bloomed. “I should have known. Those eyes are your father’s… and the way you tie your hair like that—that’s Elodie, through and through.”

Cassie’s lips curved faintly, but before she could reply, Remus leaned forward, voice quiet but full of pride.

“That’s not the only way she’s like her parents,” he said.

Cassie turned to him, brow arched.

“This young lady,” Remus continued, “is the reason I haven’t completely fallen apart each month. She’s a healer—just like her mum and dad.”

Cassie flushed but forced herself to meet Pomfrey’s gaze. “Which is why I’m here, ma’am. I asked Professor McGonagall about healing courses, but she told me there weren’t any. She did say, though, that I should speak with you.”

Pomfrey’s face softened into a smile. “Yes, Minerva did mention you might be coming by. I just didn’t expect such wonderful surprises all at once.” She folded her hands. “So—what is it you’d like from me, dear?”

“I was wondering if I could work here… with you. Like training.” Cassie hesitated, glancing down at her teacup before continuing. “I know how much you did for Remus—sorry, Remus—and I’ve been looking after him for years now. I just want to get better at it.”

“You’re the first person since your mum to ask me that,” Pomfrey said softly. “Of course I’ll help you.”

Cassie’s face lit up, and Remus gave a small, contented sigh.

“And like you said, Mr. Lupin was a bit of a handful in his school days,” Pomfrey added wryly.

“Hey, not my fault,” Remus said, holding up his hands in mock surrender, making both women laugh.

“Thank you, Madame Pomfrey,” Cassie said earnestly.

“Of course, my dear.”

Cassie finished her tea and set the cup aside as Pomfrey asked, “When can I expect you?”

“I’ve got free periods Wednesday and Thursday afternoons. I could come then?”

“Perfect.” Pomfrey stood, prompting them both to rise as well. “I’ll see you then, Cassie. And thank you for introducing yourself.” Her gaze shifted fondly to Remus. “And you—don’t be a stranger. Come by again.”

“Thank you, Madame Pomfrey,” Cassie said brightly.

“I’ll come back,” Remus promised with a small smile.

Pomfrey ushered them kindly to the door. They left the hospital wing side by side, both still smiling as they went their separate ways—Remus back to his office, Cassie through the portrait hole into Gryffindor Tower.

And Cassie was happy.

---

5. Ground Control to Major Tom

The late morning sun spilled through the cracks in Cassie’s closed curtains. She rolled over, tugged the fabric aside, and found Lyra’s bed empty. The curtains of the four-poster were thrown wide, blankets and sheets tangled as if she’d flung herself out in a rush.

Must’ve had a morning class, Cassie thought. Letting the curtain fall shut again, she turned over, pulled the blanket up to her chin, and smiled as her eyes drifted closed. She hadn’t quite fallen asleep when her alarm went off.

With a groan, she sat up. She still wanted to head out before classes started, just to be awake and moving. She changed into what were basically pajamas passable enough to leave the dorm in, grabbed her book and slipped it into a little tote along with her wand. Sliding on slipper-like shoes, she padded downstairs toward the common room.

Upon stepping foot in the common room she spotted him. Fred was sprawled across the crimson couch, lazily tossing a ball into the air and catching it. His head rested on a pillow, knees bent over the armrest. The giant barely fit.

Cassie froze, then pivoted back toward the stairs—

“Larkie!” Fred’s sing-song voice stopped her.

Cassie shut her eyes, then turned slowly. He was grinning, of course.
“Hello, Fred,” she said flatly.

“Slept in, did you?” Fred asked, sitting up.

“Free period,” Cassie said shortly, folding her arms.

“Lucky me,” he rubbed his hands together conspiratorially.

Cassie shut her eyes in anguish. “I don’t think I want to know why,” she whinged.

“Guess who else has free period with you.”

Cassie didn’t answer.

“This guy.” Fred jabbed his thumbs at himself. “And Lyra. And George, I guess—but I’m better.”

“Where are they?” Cassie asked with a slight groan.

“Great Hall. Bringing me breakfast.”

Cassie gave him a look. “Your brother is so nice to you—and for reasons unknown to me.” She relented, crossing the room and dropping into the armchair farthest from him to wait for Lyra.

“I gave him two sickles,” Fred admitted.

Cassie scoffed a laugh.

“Loook at that! I got her to laugh. Point: Fred.”

“Too bad no one was around to see.” Cassie pouted mockingly, swiveling sideways in her chair so she could drape her legs over the armrest the same way Fred had been sprawled earlier. Pulling her book from her bag, she flipped it open—though she wasn’t sure why she thought she could get any reading done with Fred sitting across from her.

Shockingly enough, he wasn’t saying anything. Just staring. Occasionally, she glanced up to see if he’d stopped, but there he was: chin propped on clasped hands, elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on her.

Cassie finally snapped her book shut with a sigh. “Can I help you?”

Fred just shrugged smugly, still silent.

Cassie narrowed her eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

Before he could break his silence, the portrait hole swung open. Lyra and George stepped through, each balancing a plate in their hands. The smell of toast and bacon instantly filled the common room.

“Breakfast delivery,” George announced, holding up Fred’s plate like it was a prize.

“Finally!” Fred shot up from the couch, grin wide as ever. “See, Larkie?

Lyra snorted and passed Cassie her plate without being asked. “Don’t let him fool you. He practically begged.”

“Bribed, actually,” George corrected with a smirk.

“You brought me breakfast?” Cassie asked, looking down at the plate in her hands.

“’Course I did!” Lyra said brightly.

“Thanks.” Cassie leaned her head against Lyra’s side, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Fred plopped back onto the couch, already shoveling food into his mouth. He pointed his fork at his brother. “I owe you.”

“You’ve owed me for years now,” George said without missing a beat.

“For what?!” Fred demanded, scandalized, half his words muffled around a mouthful of eggs.

“I don’t know. Something, probably.” George grinned and elbowed Lyra gently, earning a laugh.

“Now tell me, whose clever idea was it to give us four the same free period?” Lyra asked. “Being friends with you two already is chaos.” She gestured toward the twins.

“Wait till the pranks start,” Fred said mischievously. “That’s when the chaos really begins.”

Cassie raised a brow as she chewed. “So this is my life now? Surrounded by mayhem before I’ve even had breakfast?”

Fred leaned back with a smug grin. “That’s what friends are for.”

Cassie blinked. “Whoa, hold on—I never said we were friends.”

The mock-offended look on Fred’s face made George snort, and Lyra nearly choked on toast she took from Cassie. Within seconds, all three were laughing, while Cassie tried to bite back her own smile.

“Y’know,” Fred started, standing slightly and leaning over to pluck a piece of bacon from Cassie’s plate, “I have a prank idea.”

Cassie gaped, staring at the empty spot on her plate, then up at him. “You’re a prick,” she said flatly.

Fred waved the bacon like a pointer. “We’ve got a few dung bombs and doxy bombs up in the dorm. We could put ’em in Filch’s office.” He took a bite. “Rig one so it falls right on his head when he enters.”

“That sounds awful,” Cassie said, frowning. “Plus, Lyra and I have Defense Against the Dark Arts in forty-five minutes.” She looked at Lyra excitedly.

“Can we get there early so I can speak to him?” Lyra asked. “I’m excited for our first class with ‘Uncle Remus.’”

Cassie shut her eyes at the word uncle. She knew Lyra meant no harm—but she also knew the twins were about to have a field day.

“Uncle?” Fred’s voice rang out.

Lyra’s eyes went wide; her mouth shifted from shock to an apologetic little ‘oops.’

George glanced at his twin, then back at Cassie.

Fred put a finger to his chin, tapping it thoughtfully. “Defense Against the Dark Arts… uncle…” He trailed off, like he was piecing it together in his head.

Reading his thoughts, Cassie said, “Yes, Fred. Uncle.”

“You’re related to the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?” George asked, curiosity bright in his eyes.

Cassie shook her head. “Sure,” she said lightly, not wanting to explain everything.

“Larkie, you’re like the ultimate teacher’s pet,” Fred laughed, already scheming.

“Yep,” Cassie said dryly, nodding as she slid out of the chair and started for the stairs.

“Put in a good word for me with Uncle Remus,” Fred called after her.

Behind her, she heard Lyra mutter a soft goodbye and the light padding of her footsteps on the carpet. By the time Cassie was halfway up the stairs, Lyra had caught up.

“Cass! I’m so sorry—I wasn’t even thinking,” she said quickly.

“It’s alright,” Cassie said. “It’s not like it was necessarily a secret.”

“I know, but now you’ll never hear the end of it,” Lyra said apologetically.

“Really, Lyra, it’s okay.” Cassie put a hand on her shoulder. “They were going to find out sooner or later. Just one of my many family secrets.” She teased, though she wasn’t lying. “Plus, I’ll just tell Remus to go hard on him.”

Lyra’s worry softened into a small smile, and Cassie returned it. The two of them continued up the stairs together, slipping back into the quiet of their dorm.

Upon returning, Cassie went straight for the wardrobe, collecting her uniform and starting to change.

“Cassie,” Lyra said from behind her.

“Hm?” Cassie hummed, wobbling as she tugged on a sock and nearly fell over.

“I think we were destined to be friends,” Lyra said suddenly.

“Really?” Cassie laughed, glancing over her shoulder.

She found Lyra staring into the open wardrobe. “Our initials are similar, are they not?” Lyra pointed. “CLL and LLT.”

“Huh. I guess they are.” Cassie tilted her head to the side, considering. “Both Lyra and Cassiopeia are constellations, too. So that’s another.”

“Pause.” Lyra turned to gape at her. “I think you forgot to mention that your name was Cassiopeia.”

Cassie rolled her eyes with a smile and shook her head. “Doesn’t make it better that my middle name is Lune.”

“So you’re queen of the moon,” Lyra said slowly.

“If you’re being literal, yeah.” Cassie brushed hair from her face. “Blame my uncle for the middle name. There was always some variation of Cassie Lu or Lunie Lu.” Her chest tightened with the memory of Sirius calling her little Lunie Lu around the house.

Cassie nodded. “Yeah. Like Lune—but I guess im a Lupin by association.”

Lyra’s lips twitched. “My family used to call me Lyra Lou.” Cassie thought she caught the faintest shadow of a scowl. “Louise—my grandmother’s name.”

Cassie laughed. “See? We really were destined to be friends.”

“Next thing you’ll tell me, you had a dog named after the bloody Queen of England,” Lyra said dryly.

Cassie’s eyes widened before she burst into laughter.

“You’re an arse,” Lyra said, shoving her playfully.

“So, you ready for class, Lyra Lou?” Cassie teased.

“Ready, Lunie Lark,” Lyra shot back without missing a beat.

Grinning, the girls collected their things and left the dorm. Cassie led the way, already knowing the route. As they walked, her mind drifted. Lune—that had been Sirius’ idea. Cassie still wasn’t sure if he’d meant it as a joke—tying her constellation name to the moon the way Lyra had—or if it was… a Moony thing.

It was obvious they’d been close, Sirius and Remus, closer than anyone had ever explained to her. But Remus never spoke of it, and with Sirius’ escape still fresh, Cassie couldn’t bring herself to ask.

So she kept her questions folded away, hidden, like a secret note at the bottom of her trunk.

“Found it!” Lyra said, pointing to the door and pulling Cassie from her thoughts.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Let’s go in,” Cassie said.

Lyra grinned and pushed the door open.

Remus stood at the front of the room, waiting for students, his eyes lighting up when he saw them. “Welcome—” he began, then froze, noticing Lyra. “Oh, it’s just you,” he added when his eyes landed on Cassie.

“Ha ha,” Cassie deadpanned. “Remus, this is Lyra—my dorm mate and friend.” She gestured toward her.

“Hi, Professor,” Lyra said, “or should I say… ‘Uncle Remus’?”

Remus raised an eyebrow.

“It’s become a thing,” Cassie explained with a shrug.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you. Glad to see Cassie has a friend,” Remus said warmly.

“Don’t be like that,” Cassie said, smirking. “I just talk about ‘Uncle Remus’ so much that she wanted to meet you before meeting Professor You.”

“Ah, okay,” Remus said with a slight smile.

“Which reminds me,” Cassie continued, “Lyra accidentally blabbed that you’re my uncle—”

“I said I was sorry,” Lyra interjected.

“—and I got called the ultimate teacher’s pet. So basically, what I’m saying is… fail Fred Weasley,” Cassie finished with a dramatic flourish.

“Fail Fred Weasley?” Remus chuckled. “I’m sure Molly would be thrilled,” he said dryly.

“Hey, I’m going to go get us a seat,” Lyra whispered, already slipping Cassie’s bag off her shoulder. “Lovely to meet you, Professor.”

Remus nodded, and Cassie muttered a quick thanks before rounding back to her rant. “I mean, he’s a complete prick. Nearly took my head off on the train with a firework, and now he finds every excuse to annoy me. And the worst part is, I think he actually thinks we’re friends.”

“Or he’s trying to win your love,” Remus said lightly.

“Love?” Cassie spat, scandalized.

“Alright, maybe not love,” Remus amended with a hint of a smile. “But your friendship—he’s trying to prove himself.”

Cassie scoffed, crossing her arms. “He’s got an ego the size of the Black Lake. That boy doesn’t have to prove himself to anyone.”

As Cassie ranted, more students trickled in. A few passed by without a second glance. Others shot her confused looks—half because of her tirade, half because they were trying to puzzle out who she was and why she was already tormenting the poor new professor.

Remus was only half-listening, nodding greetings to students as they entered. Cassie wasn’t being especially loud, but the way she stood there, gesturing and scowling, made it look like she was scolding him. By the time he realized the class was fully seated, he finally cut her off.

“Alright, Cassie,” Remus said quietly, leaning closer. “your friend looks like she wants to crawl into a hole and die. Plus, I do need to start class.”

Cassie glanced back at Lyra, who was staring at her with a flat look, though her eye twitched with barely-contained amusement.

“Oh.” Cassie deflated, nodding at Remus before shuffling over to Lyra and dropping into the seat beside her. “Sorry,” she whispered.

Lyra just shook her head with a quiet laugh.

Remus followed, making his way to the front of the class. He moved without issue, his cane abandoned at the back of the room. Technically, he didn’t need it right now—but he liked having it close, even if only for the comfort it brought.

Remus cleared his throat, wringing his hands slightly. “Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts. I’m Professor Lupin, and I’ll be stepping in as your teacher for this year. Today, we’ll begin with gnomes—very basic, I know, but that’s where we’re starting.”

Cassie couldn’t help but smile. He might not realize it, but Remus Lupin was completely in his element up there.

“We’ll start on spells next class,” he finished before dismissing class. Students filed out, chatting as they went. George appeared in the doorway, and—as expected—Lyra immediately crossed over to him, launching into conversation while she waited for Cassie.

Before following, Cassie slipped up to Remus at the front of the class. “That was brilliant, Moony!” she whispered, pride unmistakable in her tone. “Truly, that was a great first class.”

“Really?” Remus said with a doubtful smile. “I felt like I was barely holding it together.”

“Oh, come on, you’re the best teacher I know.”

“I’m the only teacher you know,” Remus teased.

“Not true!” Cassie retorted, ticking them off on her fingers. “You, Professor Babbling, Professor Sprout, Professor Binns… Madame Pomfrey counts, and after lunch I’ve got Potions. That’s six.”

Remus sucked in a sharp breath. “Good old Snivelly, then.”

Cassie groaned, smacking a hand to her forehead. “Oh, bollocks, I completely forgot he taught that class. Is he going to have some personal vendetta against me just because I’m your goddaughter?”

“Maybe,” Remus admitted with a shrug. “Or maybe the bloke’s changed.”

“Doubt it. From what Harry’s said, Snape hates him.”

“Oh—you’re friends with Harry?” Remus asked, his expression softening.

“I’d say so.” Cassie shrugged. “At least I dont think he dislikes me.”

“Good. Very good.” Remus nodded, thoughtful.

Cassie hesitated, lowering her voice. “Can you… talk to him soon? About everything? He has a right to know, and he’s—he’s family.”

“I will. I promise.” Remus’s voice was gentle but firm. “You’re right, he does deserve to know. But… the time isn’t right just yet.”

Cassie sighed but nodded. “Alright. I’m off to lunch. See you later, Moons.” She gave him a little wave.

“Bye, Cassie.”

She hurried to catch up with Lyra and George.

“Bye, Remus!” Lyra called over her shoulder.

“Lovely to meet you, Lyra,” Remus replied warmly.

“So,” George said as they headed toward the stairs, smirking, “how was class with Uncle Remus?”

“Shut up,” Cassie scoffed, though she couldn’t keep the smile from her face as she shoved him with her shoulder.

On their way down, Fred eventually found them, falling into step with Cassie.

“Found us, mate,” George said, reaching around Cassie to punch his brother in the shoulder.

“Yeah, and I’m offended nobody picked me up from class,” Fred said, giving Cassie a pointed look.

“What, are you looking at me? You expect me to walk you from class to class? Now I know you’re mad,” Cassie retorted.

“George picked up our little Rosie here,” Fred said smugly.

“Rosie?” Cassie asked, confused.

“It’s a stupid nickname they came up with,” Lyra said, rolling her eyes. “Because my last name is Thorne.”

“Because roses have thorns,” Fred added helpfully.

“Right,” Cassie said, raising an eyebrow.

“Which isn’t true for Lyra,” George said, and Lyra tried to turn away to hide a blush.

Cassie leaned closer to Fred, whispering, “Hope you have my money ready, Firecrotch.”

Fred froze, his mouth falling open. He looked like she’d just slapped him with a jelly slug, then shook his head and let out an incredulous laugh as they continued walking.

As the four of them made their way into the Great Hall and neared the Gryffindor table, they spotted Ron, Hermione, and Harry scowling across at the Slytherin table. For good reason.

A gaggle of Slytherins had gathered around, with the blonde boy at the center. A girl with a blunt, short black bob was practically fussing over Draco. “Does it hurt terribly, Draco?” she asked, overly sweet.

Draco’s hand was wrapped in a white bandage extending up his forearm, with a sling that did little to support it.

“It comes and goes,” Draco said, inspecting his wrist. “Still, I consider myself lucky. According to Madam Pomfrey, another minute or two and I—uh—could’ve lost my arm. I couldn’t possibly do any homework for weeks.”

Cassie’s brows furrowed as she took in the scene while following her friends to the table.

“Listen to the idiot,” Ron muttered as they sat with the trio. “He’s really laying it on thick, isn’t he?”

“What happened?” Cassie asked, slipping in next to Lyra, across from Harry.

“A Hippogriff threw him to the ground and gave him a scratch,” Lyra explained in a mocking tone.

“That’s Draco Malfoy for ya,” George said, resting his chin on his hands.

“Well, at least Hagrid didn’t get fired,” Harry noted.

“Yeah, but I heard Draco’s father is furious,” Hermione added. “We haven’t heard the end of this.”

It was then that a boy came running into the Great Hall, paper in hand, yelling, “He’s been sighted! He’s been sighted!” His Irish accent cut through the chatter.

“Who?” Neville asked.

The Irish boy slammed the paper onto the table. “Sirius Black!” he said.

Cassie felt a stone drop into her stomach. Around her, everyone gasped, leaning in or standing to get a better view.

“Dufftown?” Hermione said, eyes widening. “That’s not far from here.”

“Y-you don’t think he’d come to Hogwarts, do you?” Neville stammered, fear edging his voice.

“With Dementors at every entrance?” a boy muttered.

“Dementors,” the Irish boy scoffed. “He’s already slipped past them once, hasn’t he? Who’s to say he won’t do it again?”

He had a point.

“That’s right,” another boy said, voice low and ominous. “Black could be anywhere. It’s like trying to catch smoke… like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands.”

Cassie looked down at the page. A moving picture showed one of the kindest men she had ever known, screaming like a deranged man. His dark, once-well-kept curls fell into his eyes as others held him back and pushed him aggressively against the wall.

It was almost sickening. It felt horrible, the dissonance between the man she knew and the fear everyone else felt. She couldn’t imagine how someone who was so good could be so feared and hated.

Once lunch formally began, Cassie barely noticed. She moved on autopilot, her fork scraping against her plate without thought, her mind locked in a loop she couldn’t escape. That picture of Sirius, mouth open in a scream , replayed again and again. Her chest felt tight. It was as if everything she thought she knew had cracked in two, leaving jagged pieces she didn’t know how to fit together.

Her gaze had gone unfocused, zeroing in on the back of some Hufflepuff’s head without her realizing. The conversation around her dimmed to a buzz. She didnt even realize all her friends staring at her.

“Cassie?” George leaned in, brow furrowed.

“Is she alright?” Hermione asked cautiously.

“Larkie,” Fred sang, drawing out the syllables like he was calling a dog.

“Did we break her somehow?” Ron added.

“Hello? Earth to Cass. Ground control to Cassie Lark?” Lyra waved her hand in front of her face. The motion snapped her back, though her eyes were still heavy, still fixed somewhere far away.

“That’s a David Bowie song,” Cassie said flatly, her voice oddly detached. “Space Oddity.”

Fred snorted. “When did Lark turn into a robot?”

She blinked, finally shifting to look at him. Her head gave a small shake, not sharp but deliberate, a mix of annoyance and disappointment tugging at her expression. Lips pressed into a thin line, she didn’t bother answering.

Fred’s grin faltered, just slightly.

Cassie cleared her throat. “I’m actually not that hungry. I’ll just head to class now—see you all at dinner.” And with that, she pushed back her bench and slipped out of the hall.

On her way down to the dungeons, her stomach twisted. Potions was something she’d always been good at—years of practice brewing with Remus had made sure of that—but the stories she’d heard about its miserable master soured her mood. She wasn’t sure if Snape knew of her personally, but he certainly knew of her parents, and their ties to the Marauders.

The thought dredged up a memory: a photograph tucked away in her room at home. Eight teenagers sprawled across the Gryffindor common room, frozen in the warmth of firelight. Sirius, caught mid-laugh, head thrown back, dark hair flying. Remus at his side, scowling, though his smile betrayed him. Her mother leaning against her father’s shoulder, looking up at him with a love-struck grin—and he, of course, gazing back just the same. James and Lily were tangled together on the couch, Lily’s head in James’s lap, her legs dangling over the armrest. On the carpet below, a blonde girl leaned against another, whose dark curls framed her striking features: Marlene McKinnon and Mary MacDonald, honorary Marauders alongside Lily and Cassie’s parents.

Peter was missing, presumably behind the camera.

The firelight bathed them all in gold, caught in their own little worlds, laughter and love forever frozen in the photograph.

Now… six of them, including Peter, were dead. Mary had obliviated herself, unable to carry the memories. Sirius was a fugitive. And Remus—Remus was right back where he’d started.

Now Cassie feared failure—not because of the subject, but because this man surely had something against her predecessors.

The air grew colder as she descended deeper into the dungeons. Shadows stretched along the stone walls, and her footsteps echoed, mingling with the few other students headed in the same direction, all with the same thought: get to class early.

When she entered the Potions classroom, it was nearly empty. A handful of students were already scattered about, pulling books and quills from their bags, their voices low, filling the space with an uneasy hush.

Cassie tugged her cloak tighter around her shoulders, the chill of the dungeons seeping deeper as she sat. From her bag, she pulled out her supplies and opened Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger. She also carried Advanced Potion-Making by Libatius Borage—Remus’s old copy, its margins scrawled with notes. Most of her supplies had been handed down from him, and she never minded; his textbooks were always alive with scribbles—class notes, sarcastic commentary from James and Sirius, and the occasional vulgar doodle that made her bite back a smile whenever she found one.

The scribbles had brought some small measure of resolve, but it all flitted away when a shadow fell across her and the table.

“This seat taken?”

Cassie could hear the smile in his voice.

Fred.

She pressed her hands to her face, rubbing her eyes with her fingers. “Yeah, whatever—it’s free,” she muttered, not in the mood to argue. Not really in the mood for anything at all.

She knew he felt victorious; she could see it in the way he straightened, pulled the chair out, and plopped down. He leaned a little closer than necessary—not offensive, but certainly too close.

Cassie organized her supplies, forcing her focus elsewhere while they waited for Snape to arrive. Every few seconds, she caught the sound of quiet snickering. Glancing over without turning fully, she noticed Fred scanning the notes in her book, chuckling at the scribbles. At least he wasn’t actively bothering her.

There was light chatter in the room, students murmuring about the potions they hoped to attempt. Cassie found herself quietly wishing she’d discover new ways to help Remus—and maybe others—in the future.

Then the door swung open. Professor Snape entered, his black cloak billowing dramatically behind him. The room went instantly silent, the kind of silence where even the faintest sound seemed amplified, like a pin dropping could echo through the stone walls.

Snape glided to the front of the classroom, his cloak swishing silently behind him. As he reached the center, his eyes locked onto Cassie’s. The look was sharp, deliberate and icy—and Cassie felt a jolt of unease. There was no mistaking it: he was irritated, and she was the focus.

Shit.

Finally, his cold, measured voice cut through the silence. “Today, we will be making the Draught of Peace. Follow the directions in your textbooks exactly. Open to page fifty-four.”

Cassie flipped her book open, every instinct on alert.

Snape’s gaze swept the room once more, lingering a fraction longer on her before continuing: “You will be partnered with the student sitting next to you. That partnership will remain for the duration of the year.”

Cassie’s eyes flicked sideways at Fred. No way was she passing this class with him as a partner.

“Begin,” Snape drawled, and the ingredients appeared neatly on their tables.

Fred had already flipped the book open to the assigned page.

“Powdered moonstone, syrup of hellebore, stewed mandrake, powdered unicorn horn, powdered porcupine quills… and water,” Cassie muttered, reading carefully.

Fred reached for the mandrake, but Cassie slapped his hand away.

“Hey! What was that for?” he protested.

“I understand we have to work together,” Cassie said, sliding him a mortar and pestle, “but you are not ruining this for me. You will grind the moonstone, unicorn horn, and porcupine quills into a powder.”

“So… you get to do all the fun stuff?” Fred asked, leaning back slightly and crossing his arms.

“I’m boiling and mashing a glorified potato and juicing a plant,” Cassie said flatly, reaching for the mandrake.

“Wouldn’t that be… milking?” Fred grinned.

As he worked the quills down later, he paused, eyebrow raised. “What do you think would happen if I snorted this?”

Cassie didn’t even look up from the mandrake she was cubing. “Probably nothing noticeable—your brain’s already mush.”

Fred chuckled, unbothered, and went back to grinding.

Cassie replaced the water in the cauldron and dropped the mandrake cubes into a mesh bag, tying it tight before slipping it into a second one to prevent fallout. Using a flat metal press, she crushed the softened mandrake into pulp and lowered the heavy teabag into the simmering water to steep.

When she pulled on gloves to squeeze syrup from the hellebore, her nose scrunched in concentration—the stuff was dangerously poisonous.

Fred caught the fleeting scrunch, unexpected and oddly endearing.

All the concentrates of the ingredients were laid out when Cassie turned to Fred.
“I will allow you to add ingredients—if you do exactly as I say,” she warned.

Fred’s smile was instant.

“Do not make me regret this.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Lark,” he said, far too smug.

Cassie scanned the book. “Remove the mandrake and add the powdered moonstone. It should turn green. Green.”

“Alright, Larkie, I’m not color-blind,” Fred replied, fishing out the teabag.

Cassie raised her hands in mock surrender and turned back to the cauldron.

Together they worked through the instructions. The potion shifted in a dizzying display—green to blue, purple, pink, turquoise, back to purple, orange, yellow, then looping again. Finally, after one last round of shifting hues—red, purple, pink, orange—it settled into a clean, silvery white.

There were close to ten minutes of class left when Snape began his rounds, either doling out points or dragging them away depending on how the potions turned out. When he reached their table he gave a curt nod.
“Five points to Gryffindor.”

Cassie bit back a smile.

“Miss Lark — see me after class,” he added, the k at the end of her name clicking like a snapped pebble as he moved on.

Cassie’s eyes widened. In her peripheral vision she caught Fred, his mouth agape in shock, though a grin was threatening to break loose. Under his breath he murmured, “Ooooh, Larkie’s in trouble.” Resulting in a glare from Cassie.

Cassie’s eyes widened. In her peripheral vision she caught Fred, his mouth agape in shock, though a grin was threatening to break loose. Under his breath he murmured, “Ooooh, Larkie’s in trouble.”

When class finally ended, Cassie gathered her things and walked over to him.

“Professor,” she said.

“Miss Lark.” That hard k again. He regarded her with that familiar sneer. “At the request of Professor Dumbledore, I am required”—he nearly spat the word—“to assist Mr. Lupin with his… condition.” The pause was loaded, dripping with disgust. “I will brew the Wolfsbane Potion. You will collect it and see that it reaches him on time.”

Cassie nodded stiffly.

“Let me be perfectly clear,” Snape continued, his voice low and deliberate. “If you fail in this simple task, it is he who will suffer for it. Not me. Not you.” His lip curled. “Him.”

“Yes, sir,” Cassie said, her mind already darting ahead to the library for research.

“You are dismissed.” With a swirl of his cloak, he swept away toward his office.

The breath Cassie had been holding left her in a quiet shiver.

Cassie left the dungeons, her bag thumping against her hip as she started the long trek back up. By the time she finally reached the fourth floor, her legs were screaming in protest. She sank down onto the nearest step, breathless.

The stairs at Hogwarts were brutal.

Finally, she pushed herself back to her feet with a groan and trudged toward the library. No matter how much the castle stairs tried to kill her, she wasn’t about to let them win. Sliding inside the quiet, cavernous room, Cassie wasted no time heading straight for the shelves, eyes already scanning for anything that would possibly mention Wolfsbane.

Cassie scanned the shelves up and down, not entirely sure what she was even looking for. Her eyes darted over titles in frustration, and in her distraction she walked straight into someone’s back. The impact jolted her, and she stumbled before blinking up at a boy with fluffy blond hair and a kind, open face. He wasn’t ugly by any stretch — in fact, there was something striking in the way his features balanced between sharp and soft, his square jaw softened by the warmth in his expression. The yellow trim of his robes marked him as a Hufflepuff, and a gleaming prefect’s badge caught the light on his chest.

“Oh my— I am so sorry, I was completely not paying attention,” Cassie blurted.

“No harm done,” the boy said easily, extending a hand. “Ernie.”

“Cassie,” she replied, shaking his hand. “Prefect?” she asked, then instantly felt stupid — the badge gleamed right there on his chest.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I help Madam Pince with shelving books every Friday.”

“Oh, cool.” Cassie brightened. “I’m a prefect too! Though… my badge is probably buried somewhere in this bag.” She gave a sheepish laugh.

Ernie chuckled. “Is that so?”

“Yeah. I just patrol at night, mostly.”

“That’s the best part,” Ernie said. “Wandering an empty castle, exploring with no one around.”

Cassie grinned. “It is pretty great. Actually—wait. You can help me. Possibly.”

“Oh, can I?” Ernie raised a brow.

“Can you?” Cassie asked sweetly.

“That depends on what it is,” he said, amused.

“I’m looking for a book, but I’m not sure which,” she said. “I plan on being a healer one day, so I want all the information on potions I can get.” It was all true.

“Smashing,” Ernie said. He was quiet for a moment, thinking, then snapped his fingers. “We just got a new book by Damocles Belby with a ton of advanced potions.”

“Brilliant!” Cassie said.

“One problem,” Ernie added. “That book would be in the Restricted Section.”

“Shit… I need a note for that, don’t I? Should I go grab one?” Cassie asked.

Ernie wagged a finger at her, shaking his head. “Lucky for you, I can go in and grab it for you.”

“Oh, would you?” Cassie said, hopeful.

“'Course,” Ernie said, already walking away, leaving Cassie alone for only a few minutes.

When he returned, he carried a dark chartreuse book titled Advanced Potion Theory: Masterworks of Damocles Belby.

“This contains some of the hardest potions—Dragon Hide Elixir, Shape-Shifter’s Salve, and the newest one, Wolfsbane,” he said. “It just came in yesterday.”

It was exactly what Cassie needed. “How do you already know all that?” she asked.

“Oh, I read the back on my way over here,” Ernie said matter-of-factly.

Cassie laughed, and Ernie laughed with her.

“Well, thank you for your help,” she said. “I’ll come find you so you can join me on a fun little stroll around the castle during my next patrol.”

“Sounds like fun,” Ernie said.

“See you around,” Cassie waved as she walked away.

“Bye, Cassie,” Ernie called back.

“Nice kid,” Cassie murmured, heading toward the stairs.

She made her way up to Gryffindor Tower and slipped into the comfort of her dorm. Her bag hit the floor with a soft thud as she flopped onto her bed, tugging the curtains closed.

It wasn’t until Lyra entered the dorm that Cassie realized she’d dozed off. She stirred when the door clicked shut, peeking her head out from behind the curtains and squinting.

“Oh, hello, tiny harp,” Cassie said.

“Tiny harp? Boy, is that a new one. You all are on a roll with the nicknames—Lyra Lou, Rosie, tiny harp,” Lyra listed.

Cassie smiled, shaking her head.

“How’re you doing? How have you been?” Lyra asked.

Cassie narrowed her eyes at her friend. “Good?”

“Just making sure,” Lyra said, crossing her arms. “You left lunch so abruptly.”

“Oh yeah…” Cassie murmured, remembering. “Just some family stuff.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Lyra asked gently.

Cassie shrugged. “Sure, whatever.” She pushed the curtains open and patted the spot beside her as she scooted up toward the headboard. Lyra climbed onto the bed and sat facing her.

“Alright. Whenever you’re ready, I’m listening,” Lyra said.

“Well, my parents died when I was three,” Cassie said coolly. “Snatchers. Never saw them again. Remus took me in without hesitation. And that's kind of why I'm here, Remus was offered a job and I came with.”

“Oh, Cassie… I’m so sorry,” Lyra whispered.

“I’m okay, Lyr, really,” Cassie replied, her tone light, almost dismissive.

Lyra nodded slowly. “But… is that why you left lunch?”

Cassie rubbed the back of her neck, chuckling awkwardly. “Funny story, actually…”

Lyra leaned in, eyes searching her friend’s face.

“Remember when that little Irish boy ran in with the Daily Prophet?” Cassie asked.

“Seamus?” Lyra guessed.

“Is that his name?—anyway, remember that picture of Sirius Black?”

“Yeah. He looked proper mad,” Lyra said, making Cassie wince.

“And if I told you I used to call him Uncle Sirius?” Cassie asked.

Lyra’s eyes went wide with disbelief. “Rewind—what?”

Cassie sighed and launched into the story. She explained the bond between her parents and the Marauders, how tight-knit they all were, and told Lyra about the nights spent in the little London townhouse with just Sirius, Remus, and her. She even added the bit about her mum and Lily—Elodie had been adopted into the Evans family, which made Cassie Lily’s niece.

“That makes you—”

“Harry’s cousin,” Cassie finished for her.

Lyra gaped. “Does he know?”

“No, he doesn’t. Remus wants to tell him first, so please don’t say anything,” Cassie said, her tone edging into seriousness for the first time.

Lyra held up her pinky. “This better not be some sick joke.”

Cassie let out a laugh and hooked her pinky with Lyra’s, locking the promise. “All true.”

Lyra sighed. “Well, that explains why you were on a different planet today.”

“Just looking for Bowie,” Cassie teased, earning a snort of laughter.

“You’re ridiculous,” Lyra said, shaking her head but smiling all the same.

“Well, your turn now,” Cassie teased.

“You actually want to hear it? It’s… a lot.”

“Oh no, I was only joking—unless you want to.”

Lyra shrugged. “Trauma for trauma. In short? My parents are awful.”

Cassie tilted her head. “How so?”

“I’d been getting Hogwarts letters for five years before finally making it here. I’m Muggle-born, and when my family found out I had magic, they sent me to a mental hospital. Thought it would ‘fix’ me and I’d come out brand new.”

Cassie’s smile fell.

“Clearly that didn’t happen,” Lyra went on, voice light but brittle. “On September first, McGonagall finally had enough. She came to get me herself.”

Cassie could tell Lyra was trying to downplay it, but the hurt was there.

“I’m not allowed back home,” Lyra added quietly.

“I’m sorry, Lyra. That’s… awful.”

“Yeah. But I’m here now, and that’s what matters.”

Cassie hesitated. “But what about the holidays?”

Lyra sighed. “I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.”

“Alright. Well—you’re always welcome at the cottage.”

“Thanks.” Lyra smiled faintly. They sat in silence for a moment before she suddenly laughed. “Look at us. You’ve got a crazy uncle who wants to kill your cousin, and my parents are the worst.”

“Lucky us,” Cassie said, smiling as Lyra rested her head on her shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re here, Cass,” Lyra murmured. “Thanks for being my friend.”

Cassie bumped her head lightly against Lyra’s. “Oh, you sap. Shut up before I cry.”

---

6. Dementors Suck

Immediately after lunch, Cassie practically ran to the hospital wing for her first lesson with Madame Pomfrey. When she pushed open the doors into the medical bay, the matron was already waiting, hands clasped behind her back, wearing a warm smile.

“Right on time, Cassie,” she said.

“I am so ready, Madame Pomfrey,” Cassie beamed.

“As am I.” Pomfrey’s smile widened. “Let’s start with a brief tour.”

The hospital wing stretched before Cassie, a long hall lined with staggered beds on both sides, each with a curtain for privacy. The familiar scent of antiseptic and lavender hung in the air, just as it had that first day she’d come in with Remus.

With a beckoning hand, Pomfrey led her to the far right corner where the supplies were kept. Closest to the entrance stood a large credenza desk, neat stacks of linens folded beside an open storage box filled with small vials.

“Just a few new tinctures I’ve made,” Pomfrey explained. “If you brew any, they can be stored here.”

She turned, gesturing to the wall perpendicular to them. Built into it were two massive hutches. From the floor up to about a foot high, nine drawers lined the base — three wide ones in the center, flanked by three shorter drawers on either side. Above those, shelves brimmed with thick volumes, cubbies crammed with ingredients, and tall cylindrical jars that gleamed in the light. Even higher were rows of labeled drawers Cassie couldn’t even read from where she stood.

“For those,” Pomfrey said knowingly, “just use the Summoning Charm. They’ll fly right to you.”

“Is it tall enough?” Cassie joked, craning her neck.

“Not nearly.” Pomfrey chuckled, her sarcasm warm. “Now, I’d like to see what you know.” She gestured toward her office.

“Thank you,” Cassie murmured as she followed her inside.

Behind her desk, Pomfrey slid a sheet of parchment across and set a quill beside it. One side listed potions, spells, and salves; the opposite side left blank lines for answers.

“I’m sure you can guess what this is,” she said, smiling. “Give me a basic definition of each so I can get a sense of your healing knowledge.”

Cassie nodded and bent over the parchment. The small office was quiet but for the steady scratch of her quill and the occasional clink of Pomfrey’s teacup. When she finished, only two spells were left blank. She slid it back across the desk.

Pomfrey scanned the sheet, her expression unreadable until she lowered it again with a smile.

“Well, Cassie,” she said. “Normally, I’d say I’m impressed—and I am—but I can’t say I’m surprised. Not after hearing how you’ve cared for Remus.”

“Well, Cassie,” she said. “Normally, I’d say I’m impressed—and I am—but I can’t say I’m surprised. Not after hearing how you’ve cared for Remus.”

“He’s a handful,” Cassie muttered with a wry smile.

Madame Pomfrey chuckled. “As he grew older, he talked back more. But when he was young… it was dreadful. Always looked so tired.” Her voice softened with memory, eyes momentarily distant.

Cassie had known from the start that Pomfrey was empathetic—she’d seen it in the way the matron cried when she first saw Remus again—and this only confirmed it.

“But always lovely,” she finished, voice warm with fondness.

“Madame Pomfrey…” Cassie hesitated, fingers worrying at the edge of her sleeve. “What was my mum like… with the healing?”

Pomfrey stilled, her expression softening as though a tide of memories had washed over her. She leaned back in her chair, a wistful smile tugging at her lips.
“Oh, Elodie…” she breathed, almost to herself. “She was the most apt student healer I ever had the privilege to teach. Natural, really—like the craft was stitched into her bones. Quick to learn, steady hands, and a heart that never wavered. She always thought of the person first and the ailment second.”

Her eyes softened further, as though she were seeing the past instead of the office around her.

"You know, she was here every month after the full moon, sitting with Remus, tending to him. She never missed classes for anyone, but for him she did—and no matter how hard he tried to push her away, she never left his side. Not only was she the most gifted student healer I’d ever seen, but also the kindest and most devoted young woman I ever had the privilege to know."

Cassie smiled faintly. "Remus doesn’t tell me much—I reckon it still hurts—but I do know he was very close with the Evans girls."

"It seemed as though your mother was his very best friend," Madame Pomfrey said gently.

"I’m sure she was," Cassie replied.

"How old were you when they passed if you dont mind me asking?" Madame pomfrey asked

"Three" Cassie said "though i remember nothing, not sure if i blocked it out or just plain have no recollection" she gave a halfhearted chuckle "and i was at godrics hollow on Halloween too"

"I'm sorry dear" Madame pomfrey said

Cassie shurgged "S'alright, dont remember much anyway" she said again "i do remember meeting my aunt and uncle thought" she smiled at the memory

"Lily and james" pomfrey said

Cassie laughed "Or as i called them, auntie lily and uncle Jamie" she smiled at the memory "that was the night i had met them for the first time"

"So then… Mr potter is you cousin" Madame pomfrey said

Cassie winced "Yes but he doesn't know yet. Remus is waiting for the right time, not entirely sure when that is but i hope its soon."

"Yes yes, im sure he would be happy to hear he has family here." Madame pomfrey said

"I hope so" Cassie said

It was quiet for a moment. Slightly awkward. Till Madame pomfrey spoke

"That should be all for today Cassie, it has been wonderful to continue to get to know you, i shall see you tomorrow as well yes?"

Cassie nodded

"Lovely! We will get into practical work tomorrow then" Madame pomfrey said

"Thank you Madame pomfrey!" Cassie said standing and heading for the door and opening it "oh and thank you for the story"

"You're welcome dear" Madame pomfrey said, and Cassie shut the door.

***
Cassie’s wrist was caught in Lyra’s grip as she was reluctantly dragged down to the Quidditch pitch. She’d barely had a moment to change before Lyra was already hauling her out the door.

“Look, Lyr, I know you just want to watch Weasley try out—but why me?” Cassie complained.

“Quit your griping. I brought you a book to read,” Lyra said cheerfully, holding up The Count of Monte Cristo, which Cassie had been working through. “I just didn’t want to sit out here alone.”

“There’s no one else you could have dragged?” Cassie muttered.

“Nope!” Lyra said, and Cassie could hear the grin in her voice.

Cassie rolled her eyes but let herself be tugged along—right up until they were wedged between Fred and George Weasley. She shut her eyes against the glare of the sun, only for it to be blocked by a looming shadow and a too-familiar voice.

“Hello, Larkie.”

Lyra and George immediately slipped into easy conversation, while Cassie dropped into a crouch with exaggerated, pitiful—if entirely fake—sobs, her wrist still trapped in Lyra’s hold, as though she feared Cassie might bolt.

Fred circled around and crouched in front of her. “Bit dramatic, aren’t we today, Larkie?”

Cassie lifted her foot and shoved him square in the knees. Fred toppled backwards with an “oof,” flat on his back. He might’ve been brilliant on a broom, but solid ground clearly failed him today. Cassie almost laughed—almost—but she knew better. He’d only take satisfaction in winning that.

“I’m flattered, Lark, really. You just can’t stay away from me,” Fred said, brushing himself off and leaning in far too close to Cassie’s face.

“Correction—you can’t seem to stay away from me for reasons beyond my comprehension,” Cassie shot back, jabbing a finger between his eyebrows to push him back.

“Semantics,” Fred shrugged, entirely unbothered.

Cassie huffed. “And just so we’re clear, I’m only here because Lyra dragged me to watch your brother fly, not to put up with you.”

Fred only smirked wider, clearly satisfied at having gotten a rise out of her.

Meanwhile, Lyra and George were already lost in their own world, leaving Cassie stuck with the far more irritating twin.

“Oi! Weasleys!” a sharp voice called from the direction of the changing tent. “Quit flirtin’ and get your arses on the pitch! Just ’cause you’ve been on the team before doesn’t mean you’ve got a guaranteed spot!”

Cassie turned her head and caught sight of him. His short, neatly kept brown hair barely shifted in the wind, and his sharp hazel eyes missed nothing. His mouth was set in that unmistakable half-grimace, half-grin of someone who thrived on competition, and his posture radiated urgency, every movement precise and purposeful. Even from a distance, it was clear he commanded attention—and respect—without needing to shout.

“O Captain, my Captain,” Fred muttered, pushing himself up on his knees to stand.

“Comin’, Wood!” George called, then snickered. “Remind me not to say that again,” he said to Lyra.

“Gross!”

Wood turned and entered the tent. “Get out, Lee,” Oliver said flatly. Shortly after, a boy with dark skin and dreadlocks stepped out, a smitten smile on his face as the twins greeted him in passing.

“All right, up,” Lyra said, hauling Cassie to her feet.

Cassie dusted off her jeans, and when she looked up, she was slightly surprised to see the boy.

“Hiya,” he said. “Lee Jordan.” He offered both hands to the girls and crossed them.

Both girls laughed, each shaking a hand.

“Cassie.”

“Lyra.”

“Friends of the twins?” Lee asked.

“No,” Cassie said.

“Yes,” Lyra interjected, glancing at Cassie. “Yes!” she added more forcefully.

“Fred infuriates me, while Lyra here, my dear sweet friend, is utterly infatuated with his twin,” Cassie explained.

“Cassie!” Lyra cried, face turning red.

“Ah, hopelessly in love too?” Lee teased.

“I’m not—just—Cassie!” she sputtered again.

“Walk with me, ladies,” Lee said, already turning toward the stands.

Cassie followed quickly, mostly because Lyra had started poking her furiously wherever she could reach. Her lips were pressed into a flat line, nose wrinkled, but there was no real malice in it. Cassie broke into a jog up the stairs, laughing, while Lyra chased after her.

“You’re a right prick, Cassiopeia Lune Lark!” Lyra called.

“And you’re all flower, no thorn, Lyra Louise Thorne!” Cassie shot back with a grin.

Lee dropped onto the bleachers with a relaxed grin, leaning his arms back against the row behind him, relaxing. Cassie slipped in right after, making sure to take the far side so that Lee sat neatly between her and Lyra—her buffer against any more pokes or swats.

“So you like Quidditch?” Lee asked, watching the team zoom about the pitch.

“You think I’m out here of my own volition?” Cassie shot back, one brow arched as she flicked her gaze toward Lyra. Lyra stuck her tongue out at her in response.

“Right—George,” Lee said, snapping and pointing at Lyra. “Those two have been my mates for—Merlin—years. And now that I think about it, he has been acting different.”

Lyra scoffed, crossing her arms and changing the subject. “Alright, Lee, tell me about the team. We saw you walk out of that tent—spill.”

Lee chuckled, holding his hands up in mock innocence. “Okay, okay. So, I’m sure you know Harry.”

Cassie nodded heavily.

“He’s the Seeker—smallest on the team, fastest on a broom. His whole job is to catch the Snitch and end the game.”

“And the twins?” Lyra asked, trying to keep her tone even but sounding far too giddy.

“Beaters,” Lee said. “Bats in hand, smashing Bludgers away from their teammates—and at the other team whenever they can manage.”

He grinned, pointing out three girls flying in a tight formation. “Those are the Chasers—Alicia Spinnet, Katie Bell, and Angelina Johnson. They pass the Quaffle around and score goals.”

“Uh oh, looks like Lee’s in love,” Cassie teased.

“I’ve been in love with Angie since first year,” Lee said, utterly serious. “She always turns me down, but one day—one day—I can feel it. She’ll return my love and we’ll live happily ever after.”

Both girls burst out laughing.

“I’m sure of it,” Lee said.

Lee pointed toward the boy with the whistle who was circling above, scanning the team with sharp, assessing eyes. “And that’s Oliver Wood. Keeper and Captain—his job’s to guard the hoops. Trust me, no one takes Quidditch more seriously than Wood.”

“Are you sure? Doesn’t seem like he cares much,” Cassie said sardonically, tilting her head as though unimpressed.

“Yeah, right,” Lee scoffed. “Quidditch is all he cares about. Bloke doesn’t even have time for a girlfriend—Quidditch is his one and only love.”

“Sounds terrible,” Lyra pouted, resting her chin in her hand with her elbow propped on her knee, playing it up dramatically.

“And you, Lee? Where are you on this team? You know so much about Quidditch,” Cassie asked.

“Me?” Lee grinned. “I’m not exactly on the team, per se. I’m the announcer at matches. And Cassie—hate to break it to you—but that’s just basic Quidditch knowledge.”

Cassie pressed her lips together and nodded slowly. “Riiiight.”

A sharp whistle cut through the air, pulling their attention back to the pitch. Oliver Wood hovered mid-air on his broom, shouting directions to his team with the intensity of a general leading troops into battle. The players zipped around him, snapping into formation, clearly used to his booming voice and no-nonsense style.

The girls settled into watching, though Lee couldn’t help tossing in the occasional bit of commentary—half announcer, half comedian. “And there we have the famous Gryffindor Chasers, demonstrating how not to pass when your Keeper is glaring holes through your skull.” His dry delivery sent both Cassie and Lyra into bursts of laughter, drawing a warning glance from Wood that only made them laugh harder.

Cassie hugged her knees to her chest, still smiling, while Lyra leaned back on her hands, clearly enjoying herself as much as if it were an actual match.

After what felt like a flurry of brooms and shouts, Wood blew his whistle one last time and called the team to a halt. “All right, that’s enough for today! Good effort, everyone, but remember—precision beats speed every time!” He swooped down from the air, landing with a controlled thud and brushing his robes off.

The team dismounted, murmuring among themselves, while Wood’s eyes swept the field one final time. “Team list’ll be on the bulletin by the end of the week!” he called, giving a sharp nod before striding toward the locker room.

Suddenly, Fred swooped down in front of the three of them, his broom skidding to a dramatic halt. “So, what’d you think, Lunie?” he asked with a wicked grin.

“Lunie?!” Cassie shot to her feet.

Fred leaned back on his broom, cackling with his eyes shut. When he finally glanced at Cassie’s thunderous expression, he doubled over, clutching the handle. “Stop—stop it! I’m going to fall off my broom!” he gasped between laughs.

“Better off that way!” Cassie shrieked. Then she spun sharply on her heel, finger stabbing in Lyra’s direction. “And you! You’re not allowed to speak anymore!”

Lyra only laughed harder, collapsing against Lee, who was no help at all since he’d already dissolved into snickers.

Fuming, Cassie turned back to Fred and jabbed a finger at him, stalking toward the edge of the bleachers like it was a proper standoff. Before she could get a word out, a shriek split the air—George had swooped in, scooping Lyra clean off her seat. Her initial scream of terror quickly melted into more helpless laughter as she dangled from his broom.

“Fancy a fly, Lu?” Fred asked, grinning between Lyra twisting in George’s grip and Cassie’s scowl.

“I’d rather die,” Cassie snapped. With a sharp turn, she stormed off the bleachers and back up toward the castle.

That same evening, in the library—

“I just don’t get it,” Cassie muttered, arms overloaded with books. “Why am I the chosen one so blessed to be constantly pestered by him?”

Ernie chuckled, plucking a book from her stack and sliding it neatly into its spot on the shelf. “That Weasley charm is certainly something,” he said, shaking his head.

“It’s beyond obnoxious,” Cassie groaned, dropping her pile onto the nearest table with a thud. “Sorry to dump all this on you, but Lyra’s practically in love with George, and I don’t really want to bother her with my—”

“Boy trouble?” Ernie cut in, eyebrows raised.

“It’s not boy trouble,” Cassie shot back immediately, bristling.

“Mm-hm,” Ernie said, sliding another book onto the shelf, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “Sounds a lot like boy trouble to me.”

Cassie narrowed her eyes at him. “It’s pest trouble. There’s a difference.”

Ernie laughed. “Sure, sure. A very handsome pest, though, isn’t he?”

“Excuse me while I go vomit.” Cassie made an exaggerated gagging noise.

Ernie held his hands up, feigning innocence. “Just saying—he is rather a ladies’ man.”

“So he’s the Casanova of Gryffindor Tower?” Cassie deadpanned.

“I was thinking more like slag,” Ernie said with a smirk, putting the final book on the shelf.

Cassie sputtered a laugh, and Ernie joined her—until Madame Pince appeared, seemingly out of thin air, and shushed them harshly.

“Sorry,” Cassie whispered, holding back another giggle.

“I’m sorry, Madame Pince,” Ernie whispered.

She disappeared around the corner, and the pair exchanged a final laugh.

“All right, I have patrol tonight. You coming with?” Cassie asked.

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

And with that, they left the library for the night.

***

Thursday morning, after Ancient Runes with Hermione, Cassie made her way to Remus’ classroom like she had the week prior. She shuffled in just as the last students were filing out, leaving Remus with nearly ten minutes before his next class would arrive.

“Morning, Cass,” he said, taking a sip of coffee and immediately wincing as it hit his tongue with a slight “bleh.”

“Is that black coffee, Moons?” Cassie asked, crossing her arms and leaning against the credenza by the window.

Remus nodded, grimacing. “Mhm.”

“You hate black coffee,” Cassie said.

“I’m also exhausted. Spent all night coming up with lesson plans for today,” Remus admitted.

“Since when do you procrastinate?” Cassie asked.

Remus chuckled. “Last night, apparently.”

“Right. Well, you know you’re allowed to put sugar in it. Should wake you up just the same—the caffeine content isn’t changed by adding sugar.”

“Reverse placebo,” Remus said, taking another sip of the bitter drink.

“What?” Cassie mouthed, shaking her head.

“So, what are you doing here?” he asked, setting the mug down.

“Sitting in on your class, obviously,” Cassie said, emphasizing obviously like Snape would, which made Remus laugh. “I have a free period, remember?”

“Oh, right,” Remus said, slipping on his coat. “Boggarts today.”

“So that’s what’s in the giant wardrobe,” Cassie said.

Remus nodded. “And Harry’s in this class.”

“And I assume you haven’t spoken to him yet?” Cassie asked.

“Nope,” Remus said.

Cassie sighed dramatically.

“Soon, I promise,” Remus said, holding up his pinky.

“Fine,” Cassie said, linking her pinky with his.

Remus had always stayed true to his pinky promises—ever since she was a little girl, they’d been doing them. Big promises, small promises, silly promises—it didn’t matter. If he gave his word with a pinky, it was as good as done.

Students had started trickling into the classroom, greeting them both with waves. Remus turned to Cassie. “Right—five minutes till class. And I mean this with the utmost love—just stay out of the way. They still have to learn.”

“Of course,” Cassie said, trying to sound compliant.

Remus raised an eyebrow skeptically.

“I will,” Cassie groaned, rolling her eyes.

That’s when Harry and Ron walked into the room.

“Cassie!” Ron called, waving.

“Hi, Cassie,” Harry said with a grin.

“Hey, guys,” Cassie replied, smiling.

“You in this class too?” Ron asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, just sitting in on Remus, making sure he’s a good teacher,” Cassie said, giving a playful shrug.

“And staying out of the way,” Remus added, resting a hand lightly on Cassie’s shoulder.

“He’s decided to be a naff today,” Cassie whispered, though she wasn’t exactly trying to keep it from Remus.

“All right,” Remus said, flicking his wand so a chair slid up next to the table that held the record player. “You’ll be over there for class.”

“What is this? Dirty Dancing?” Cassie asked, crossing her arms.

“No, but yes,” Remus replied, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “I’m putting Cassie in the corner. Now go on, get over there—I’m starting.”

With a wry eye roll Cassie made her way over and sat crossing a leg over her knee.

Remus clapped his hands once, drawing the class’s attention. “Right, everyone—over here. Clump together, if you would.” He herded them toward the wardrobe, which gave another violent shake, making the students eye it warily.

“Intriguing, isn’t it?” he said, almost cheerfully. “Would anyone like to venture a guess as to what’s inside?”

“That’s a Boggart, that is,” a boy near Harry spoke up.

“Very good, Mr. Thomas,” Remus said with a nod. “Now—can anyone tell us what a Boggart looks like?”

“No one knows,” Hermione answered, seemingly appearing at Ron's elbow. Cassie wasn’t even sure when she’d slipped in. “Boggarts are shape-shifters. They take the shape of whatever a person fears most. That’s what makes them so—”

“So terrifying, yes, yes, yes,” Remus cut in smoothly, just as the wardrobe gave another resounding thud. “Luckily, a very simple charm exists to repel a Boggart. Let’s practice it now—without wands, please. After me.”

Thud.

“Riddikulus!”

“Riddikulus,” the class echoed back.

“Very good. Louder, clearer—listen.” He lifted a finger. “Riddikulus.”

“Riddikulus!” the group chorused again, stronger this time.

“Excellent,” Remus said, smiling faintly. “Well—so much for the easy part. You see, the incantation alone won’t do it. What really finishes a Boggart is laughter. You need to force it into a shape you find truly amusing. Let me explain. Neville—will you join me, please?”

Thud.

Neville looked around, as if checking that Remus had really meant him.

“Come on, don’t be shy,” Remus encouraged, beckoning him forward with both hands. “Come on, come on.”

Neville eyed the rattling wardrobe, then shuffled forward, uneasily clutching his wand.

“Hello, Neville,” Remus said warmly. “What frightens you most of all?”

Neville stammered something under his breath.

“Sorry?” Remus leaned in.

“Professor Snape,” Neville said louder, his face pinking.

The class burst into good-natured laughter.

Remus nodded thoughtfully. “Professor Snape. Frightens all.” He bounced once on the balls of his feet, then added, “And I believe you live with your grandmother, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Neville admitted quickly. “But I don’t want the Boggart to turn into her either!”

The class laughed again, and even Cassie snorted softly from her corner.

“No, no, it won’t,” Remus assured him, glancing back at the wardrobe as it thudded once more. “I want you to picture her clothes, Neville. Only her clothes. Very clearly in your mind.”

“She carries a red handbag…” Neville started.

“We don’t need to hear,” Remus said with a small smile. “As long as you see it, we’ll all see it. Now—when I open that wardrobe, here’s what I want you to do…”

He leaned in, whispering something in Neville’s ear. Neville’s eyes widened.

“Can you do that?” Remus asked, then answered for him with brisk confidence: “Yes. Wand at the ready. One… two… three!”

With a low whistle, the wardrobe clicked unlocked and creaked open. From the shadows stepped Snape himself—hook-nosed, menacing, arms folded, glaring down at Neville.

“Think, Neville. Think!” Remus urged from just behind him.

Snape stalked forward, slamming the wardrobe door behind him.

Neville raised his wand. “R-Riddikulus!”

In an instant, Snape stumbled backwards—swallowed by a long green dress, topped with a ridiculous vulture hat, a fox fur draped around his shoulders, and a bright crimson handbag swinging at his side. Yellow stockings peeked from beneath the hem, ending in dainty ladies’ boots.

The class howled with laughter.

Neville blinked, then broke into a grin, shoulders squaring.

“Wonderful, Neville! Absolutely wonderful!” Remus praised, clapping him lightly on the back. “Alright, to the back. Everyone else, form a line.”

The students hurried to comply, excitement bubbling in their chatter.

“Now,” Remus continued, striding to the front, “I want each of you to picture the thing you fear most—and then turn it into something funny. Cassie—music, if you please.”

Cassie hopped up and dropped the record needle. After a scratch of static, jaunty swing filled the room—Hot Liquorice by Dick Walter.

“Perfect,” Remus said, nodding along. “Next—Ron!”

Ron froze, horrified, but shuffled reluctantly to the front as Remus guided him forward with a hand and wand point. Cassie leaned her chin into her hand, already entertained.

“Concentrate, Ron,” Remus urged. “Face your fear. Be brave.”

The Snape-in-grandmother’s-clothes dissolved into a whirling mass that shot forward, reshaping itself into a massive spider with gleaming legs.

Ron whimpered, stumbling back, but drew his wand shakily.

From Cassie’s corner, Remus leaned casually against her chair. “Wand at the ready, Ron. Wand at the ready!”

“That’s my ear, Moony,” Cassie muttered without looking up, swatting his elbow away.

“Riddikulus!” Ron bellowed, pointing.

In a flash, bright roller skates snapped onto each of the spider’s hairy legs. It immediately began to teeter and shuffle, sliding helplessly across the floor, its balance gone.

The class roared with laughter, and Ron, finally grinning, dropped his shoulders in relief.

Remus chuckled pointing "you see very good, very good. Marvelous. Absolutely, very very enjoyable. Next—Parvati,” Remus said, flicking his wand toward her.

Parvati stepped forward, her face pale but determined. The wardrobe gave another violent shudder before bursting open, and out slithered a massive hissing cobra, its hood flaring as it reared up to strike.

Cassie’s feet immediately pulled up onto the rungs of her chair.

he snake gave a lurch mid-strike, twisting and stretching unnaturally until it shot upward into a giant jack-in-the-box clown. Its springy body wobbled, its painted face grinning far too wide, swaying forward and backwards towards Parvati and away.

The class burst into relieved laughter, but Cassie scrunched her nose, still finding it rather unsettling.

Remus turned to her, giving her shoulder a light push. “They’re doing well, aren’t they?”

Cassie nodded, though her eyes flicked nervously toward the front. Harry was stepping up next. Both she and Remus watched him with a quiet, unspoken concern—what on earth would his boggart become?

The wardrobe shuddered, then split open. At once, the air grew colder. The shape twisted, darkened, and finally solidified into a dementor. Taller, darker, and infinitely more horrifying than the one on the train, it leaned toward Harry with a rattling breath.

Cassie didn’t even think—she leapt from her chair, only to slip on the polished wood and land hard on the floor. At the same moment, Remus lunged forward, planting himself between Harry and the boggart.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion.

“Here!” Remus shouted, arms spread wide, shielding Harry. From the floor, Cassie’s breath caught in her throat as the dementor wavered, then warped, its body dissolving into a rolling bank of dark clouds. The clouds swirled, parting to reveal a bright, shimmering white moon.

Cassie scrambled to her feet instantly, heart hammering.

“Riddikulus!” Remus cried, snapping his wand. The moon gave a ridiculous squeal, then deflated like a punctured balloon. It whizzed wildly around the room, bouncing off the walls as students ducked and yelped, until finally it zipped back into the wardrobe. The door slammed shut with a bang.

Harry remained frozen, still staring at the wardrobe, his knuckles white around his wand.

“Right, well,” Remus said, slightly breathless, trying to recover the moment. “Sorry about that. Uh—yes, that’s enough for today. If you’d all collect your books from the back, that’ll be the end of the lesson. Thank you.”

The class groaned in protest, muttering as they shuffled toward the back, though Remus added apologetically, “Sorry, sorry—go on. You can have too much of a good thing.”

Behind him, Harry lingered, motionless, before he finally turned and left in silence.

Cassie dragged herself back over to the chair and dropped into it with a sigh. Remus shut the classroom door, then turned, scrubbing a weary hand down his face.

“That could not have gone worse,” he muttered, leaning against the wall beside her.

“It was good until the end,” Cassie said quickly. “It was very good.”

“Till the dementor,” Remus said flatly.

Cassie was quiet a moment.

“And you?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“The moon.”

Remus sighed, shoulders sinking. “Fine… y’know, that was the first moon I’ve seen with my own eyes in close to twenty-nine years.”

Cassie pressed her lips together, words caught in her throat.

Remus cleared his throat, forcing a lighter note. “Whaddaya say we go to lunch early?”

“Let’s do it.” Cassie stood, and together they headed for the door. Remus held it open for her.

As they walked into the corridor, Cassie glanced up at him. “Did you see me eat shit?”

Remus burst out laughing. “Yes.”

---

7. Up Till Dawn Dawn Dawn (Dun Dun Dun)

The weeks after the start of term passed in a blur of lessons, shifting weather, and the steady rhythm of castle life. September melted into October with the easy slide of parchment across desks, the scratch of quills, and the clatter of cauldrons in dungeons. Cassie found herself juggling her time between classes, prefect duties, and the long afternoons Madam Pomfrey set aside for her training.

Snape remained infuriatingly consistent: every potion Cassie brewed was marked “acceptable” or “admirable,” never “outstanding,” no matter how carefully she chopped or stirred. In the hospital wing, however, Pomfrey was more generous, praising her steady wandwork on healing charms and letting her prepare salves with only minimal supervision.

The air had turned sharp and crisp, autumn leaves scudding across the courtyards like scatterings of gold and rust. By late October, the castle was buzzing with talk of the first Hogsmeade weekend of the year, with promises of sweets, butterbeer, and freedom from the castle walls.

On Halloween morning, Cassie and Lyra were in their dormitory, tugging on scarves and chattering about everything they’d do once they reached the village, when a sharp crack broke their rhythm.

Lyra had smacked her palm against her forehead. “Oh, bugger,” she groaned.

Cassie blinked. “What?”

Lyra dropped onto the edge of her bed. “I never turned in a signed slip. Not that my parents would’ve signed it anyway.”

Cassie’s heart pinched. “We could ask Remus,” she said gently, stepping closer. “I’m sure he’d sign it for you.”

Lyra shook her head, giving a halfhearted smile. “S’fine. We’ll go next time.”

Cassie nodded and set a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Next time,” she assured her. Then, with a spark of mischief, she added, “But today—what d’you say we roam the empty corridors of the castle?”

Lyra’s smile reached her eyes. After a beat, she nodded. “Let’s go, then.”

Lyra followed Cassie down the stone steps and into the common room. The sight that met them was nothing short of dazzling. Pumpkins had been tucked into every available corner, some stacked in little towers, others bewitched to drift lazily above their heads. Every so often, a golden leaf would spiral down from nowhere, vanish before touching the floor, and reappear again high above. The common room always had a warm, inviting glow, but today it shimmered with something extraordinary.

It wasn’t entirely empty—clusters of younger students lingered near the fire, playing chess or whispering in low voices. The hearth blazed cheerfully, radiating a warmth Cassie and Lyra could feel even as they walked past.

As always, Cassie’s gaze slid to the bulletin board, more out of habit than curiosity. The Gryffindor team announcement and the schedule for practices and matches had been pinned there since tryouts, parchment curling at the corners. But something new had caught her eye—a flyer so brightly colored it nearly shouted for attention:

Fred and George Weasley’s Wonderfully Wicked Halloween Party!
Pumpkin carving contest! Costume contest! Tricks, treats, and prizes!
Tonight, in the Gryffindor common room—be sure to dress your best.

Lyra’s eyes lit up as she read the flyer. “Can we go?” she asked, practically bouncing on her toes.

Cassie hesitated. “Maybe.”

“Come on, Cass, please?” Lyra pressed, giving her best pleading look.

Cassie frowned a little. “I don’t know… tomorrow’s Monday. We’ve got class.”

Lyra tilted her head. “Will you at least think about it?”

“I’ll think about it,” Cassie promised.

The two girls slipped out of the common room and began wandering toward the clock tower, the castle corridors quiet and empty in the early morning. The stone walls glimmered faintly in the soft light of enchanted sconces, casting dancing shadows that flickered like tiny ghosts. Faint echoes of footsteps and distant laughter carried down the hallways.

Cassie glanced up at the high windows, where pale sunlight streamed through, catching dust motes that floated lazily like tiny sparks in the air. “Have you been up to the Owlery yet?” she asked.

Lyra shook her head, eyes tracing the curling autumn leaves pinned magically to the walls. “Haven’t needed to.”

Cassie grinned, brushing her hand against the cool stone banister. “Wanna go check it out?”

Lyra shrugged, her gaze lingering on a row of enchanted portraits that winked and whispered as they passed. “Why not?”

The girls made their way down to the first floor and into the clock tower in the south wing of the castle. It wasn’t a long walk from the Gryffindor common room—just a few flights of stairs and several window-lined corridors.

Upon entering the tower, they were greeted by a wash of natural light streaming through a large stained-glass window on the far stone wall, opposite the door that led to the courtyard. But the most striking feature—both surprising and somehow perfectly fitting—was the massive pendulum swinging slowly from the ceiling, stretching to just a few feet above their heads.

“Not sure what I expected from the clock tower, but it wasn’t that,” Cassie said, eyes wide as she took in the massive pendulum.

“I guess it makes sense… but why is it so close?” Lyra asked, her gaze following the pendulum as it swung rhythmically back and forth.

“All right, I’ve seen enough,” Cassie said, grabbing Lyra’s wrist and already hauling her toward the door ahead. Pushing it open, they stepped out into the courtyard, immediately in front of the giant well and fountain at its center. Cassie released Lyra’s hand and began digging in her pocket.

Lyra pulled out two Galleons and handed one to Cassie. She stepped closer to the well, shut her eyes, and tossed her coin in. Cassie followed suit, closing her eyes and letting her own Galleon clink into the depths.

“So… what did you wish for?” Lyra asked, turning toward the wooden bridge.

“You’re the one who provided the wish coins,” Cassie replied, falling into step beside her. “I’d assume you know that saying a wish out loud pretty much means it won't come true."

“I was just thinking you’d tell me yours in exchange for hearing mine, but… I’m just going to tell you mine anyway,” Lyra said, glancing up at Cassie with a sheepish smile.

Cassie raised an eyebrow. “Okay?”

Lyra bit her lip, looking away for a moment before shrugging.

“What? Tell me!” Cassie laughed, nudging her lightly.

“Well… it’s a bit childish, but… I don’t want to tell you now,” Lyra murmured, cheeks tinged pink.

“You’re such a tease, Rosie,” Cassie said, shoving her gently.

Lyra laughed and finally relented. “All right, fine! I wished that George would make a move.”

Cassie’s eyes widened in mock seriousness. “Well, it’s no secret he fancies you.”

“You keep saying that—”

“He quite literally swept you off your feet last month when he swooped in and pulled you onto his broom,” Cassie pointed out, grinning.

“That did feel… different,” Lyra admitted, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

“He definitely has a thing for you,” Cassie said, falling into step beside her. “You could always make the first move too, because right now it’s this painful back-and-forth that I’m stuck watching.”

Lyra bumped her with her hip. “You’re so annoying.”

Cassie laughed. “Sounds like I’ll be getting my money.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lyra asked, raising an eyebrow, before looking back out at the Scottish highlands.

“Well…” Cassie began, trying to keep a straight face. “I may or may not have a bet going with Fred on how soon you and George will become an item.”

Lyra whipped her head toward Cassie. “You’re betting on my relationship that isn’t a relationship?”

“Yup,” Cassie said with a smug nod.

“With Fred?! I thought you hated him!” Lyra exclaimed.

“I have deep disdain for him, yes,” Cassie admitted, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t bet with him… a bet I’m winning, by the way.”

Lyra shook her head, laughing. “You’re ridiculous.”

Cassie just grinned and laughed with her, the bridge echoing with the sound of their amusement as the autumn wind swirled leaves around their feet.

Leaving the bridge behind, Cassie and Lyra veered to the right, following the winding path up to the Owlery. They crossed a stone bridge that arched over a small waterfall, the water sparkling as it tumbled into the stream below. The sound of rushing water mingled with the rustle of autumn leaves underfoot, filling the air with a crisp, lively energy.

The girls climbed the stone steps that curved around the base of the tower, muscles protesting with each step. When they finally reached the entrance to the Owlery, they paused, gasping for breath.

“Ju-just… gimme a… minute,” Cassie huffed, doubled over as if she’d just run a mile.

Lyra flopped down onto a flat rock nearby, giving Cassie a tired thumbs-up, panting aswell.

Once their breaths evened out, they stepped into the Owlery, the cool air brushing against their flushed faces as they began the spiral staircase.

“This,” Lyra huffed, gripping the railing, “was a bad idea, Cass.”

“We would’ve been wandering around Hogsmeade for hours doing basically the same thing,” Cassie countered.

“It’s a little village, Cassie. We wouldn’t be going uphill,” Lyra protested, wobbling slightly with each step.

“Well,” Cassie said, peeking over the railing, “we’ll be able to see a lot from up here.”

Lyra shot her a mock glare, puffing out her cheeks. “If this isn’t good, I swear I’m throwing you off the tower.”

Cassie gave her a playful glare.

When the girls reached the top, they found the Owlery far less magical than they’d imagined—yet somehow exactly what one might expect. Dozens upon dozens of owls perched along the rafters and window ledges, their golden eyes following the girls’ every move. Feathers drifted lazily through the air like snowflakes, and the sharp scent of owl pellets mixed with the damp chill of stone filled the space.

Cassie brushed a stray feather from her shoulder. “Well, it’s… atmospheric,” she said diplomatically.

“Atmospheric?” Lyra repeated, stepping carefully to avoid a rather unpleasant-looking pile near her boot. “It’s disgusting, Cass.”

One of the owls hooted indignantly, as if taking offense.

Cassie smirked. “I think you’ve hurt its feelings.”

Lyra rolled her eyes but smiled all the same. “You owe me butterbeer for this.”

“Deal,” Cassie said, grinning as she glanced toward the open windows. A cool breeze tugged at her hair, carrying the scent of autumn up from the grounds below.

“Right, can we go?” Lyra asked. “Quicker, preferably.”

Cassie nodded. “Yup. Merlin, I wish we were of age so we could Apparate.”

“What’s that?” Lyra asked, already hurrying down the stairs.

“Sort of like teleportation,” Cassie explained, following after her.

“That’s bloody cool,” Lyra said.

“I know,” Cassie replied. “We could be back in the dorm by now instead of trekking all the way down.”

“At least we’re going downhill this time,” Lyra said.

“True, true,” Cassie agreed with a grin.

Finally, they made it back down from the Owlery and veered toward the Quidditch pitch, planning to loop back into the castle.

“You know,” Lyra said, kicking at a stray leaf that skittered across the path, “all this wizard slang really confused me when I first came.”

“Did it?” Cassie asked, tilting her head.

Lyra nodded and let out a soft laugh. “Merlin’s beard… I didn’t even know who Merlin was. Sheltered girl gets thrown into the craziest place ever, knowing absolutely nothing.”

“When did you know you were magical?” Cassie asked.

“When I was eleven,” Lyra said, stepping on another leaf that crunched beneath her foot. “I made the lights flicker in the whole house when I got mad—my mum probably yelled or sent me to my room. After that, I started doing it for fun: making the lamps flicker, plates float at dinner… they didnt like that, and so I ended up in a mental correctional facility. It never worked, of course. Eventually, they just… abandoned me. Didn’t provide for me. I’m convinced they never liked me.”

“Was it just you?” Cassie asked quietly.

Lyra let out a soft, bitter laugh. “No, I have a brother—Liam. He’s always been my parents’ angel child; he could do no wrong while I was the problem. But he was also my best friend… my biggest supporter, no matter what. He was always there for me.” She hesitated, her voice lowering. “He’s only nine. The only comfort I have is knowing he’s being cared for and that he’s safe.”

Cassie’s chest tightened. “I’m really sorry, Lyra.”

“Me too,” Lyra said softly, her gaze drifting toward the rippling lake. “But if I’m being honest, Hogwarts has completely changed my life. A few years ago, when I was just getting the letters, I was curious—but actually being here…” She trailed off, smiling faintly. “It’s a whole new world. It feels like home, y’know? I’ve never felt more welcome—or more myself—than I do here.”

Cassie nodded, her eyes following the shimmer of sunlight across the water. “I grew up with stories about this place, but being here now—experiencing it for real—it’s… surreal.”

The girls made their way back across the Hogwarts grounds, their conversation flowing easily, laughter echoing off the stone walls as they climbed through the castle corridors.

“Fortuna Major,” Cassie said to the Fat Lady’s portrait. With a swing and a creak, the portrait opened, and they stepped into the common room—still mid-laugh—until Cassie’s voice faltered.

Harry was sitting on the couch, turned completely toward her, watching.

“You’re my cousin,” he said flatly, though his tone was unreadable.

“Harry—” Cassie started, moving toward him. “I wanted to tell you, really. It just never felt like the right—”

Before she could finish, Harry crossed the space and pulled her into a hug.

“You’re my cousin,” he said again, this time his voice softer, almost disbelieving.

Cassie hesitated, then slowly wrapped her arms around him.

“I didn’t think—didn’t know I had family still,” Harry murmured into her shoulder.

Cassie smiled faintly and shut her eyes, resting her cheek against the side of his head. “I wanted to tell you, but Remus made me wait—so I reckon he spoke to you,” she said softly, pulling back to look at him.

Harry nodded. “He said he was really close with my mum… and my aunt.”

“My mum,” Cassie said with a small smile. “The Evans girls.”

She felt Lyra step up beside her, quiet but present.

“He also talked to me about the boggart,” Harry continued, shaking his head slightly. “But that’s not important. Merlin, I have… I have you now.”

“Well, I’m glad we didn’t go to Hogsmeade,” Cassie joked, turning to Lyra.

“What a lovely little reunion,” Lyra said with a bright smile.

“I want to hear everything I’ve missed,” Cassie said turning back to Harry, already making her way to the couch.

“Me too,” Harry agreed, following after her.

Lyra tagged along, settling beside Cassie as Harry began to speak.

He started with the Dursleys—Petunia and Vernon—their aunt and uncle who had been awful to him for years.

“They hate anything magic,” Harry said. “They were forced to care for me—if you can even call it that—but they never told me a thing about you or your parents.”

“Figures,” Cassie muttered. “Remus told me they probably never said anything about us Larks.”

“I’d expect nothing less of them,” Harry said bitterly.

The conversation shifted to Cassie. She told Harry about her parents being taken by Snatchers, and how Remus took her in without hesitation. It was a story she’d told a thousand times, but somehow it felt different sharing it with Harry.

“So our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is your godfather?” Harry asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

Cassie nodded. “And a bloody good one at that.”

“Did… did you know them?” Harry asked quietly. “My parents?”

Cassie’s expression softened. “I met them twelve years ago—today, actually,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. From the look on Harry’s face, she could tell he’d just realized the date too.

“I was there that night in Godric’s Hollow,” Cassie continued gently. “I met your parents—my aunt and uncle—but you were upstairs, fast asleep. I remember wanting to meet you so badly.”

Cassie remembered the crisp chill of Halloween night, the smell of woodsmoke and fallen leaves curling through the quiet village. She sat perched on Sirius’s shoulders, her small hands tangled in his hair as she patted the top of his head like he was some kind of tall, scruffy horse. Remus walked beside them, his breath forming soft clouds in the air. Cassie kept giggling every time she exhaled, delighted by the wisps of white that bloomed and vanished in front of her face. The night was cold, but it felt alive—warm laughter, crunching leaves under boots, and the comforting murmur of the two men who had become her whole world.

The Lark house sat just beside the Potters’ — their chimneys almost touching, the gardens divided by a short, ivy-covered wall. They’d come that night to say hello… and to gather the last of Cassie’s things.

Inside the Potter cottage, everything had felt warm and alive — laughter, the faint crackle of a fire, Lily humming somewhere in the kitchen. Cassie remembered Lily’s red hair glinting in the candlelight and James crouching down to grin at her.

“She’s getting so big,” James said, mussing her curls.

“Too clever for her own good.” Sirius teased, giving her a wink.

Remus chuckled softly, though there was a tiredness in his eyes that Cassie was too young to understand then.

After a bit of chatting — promises to meet in the morning, good-natured teasing between the Marauders — they’d said goodnight. Remus carried Cassie next door while Sirius lingered behind, saying he’d join them in a minute.

The Lark home felt hollow without her parents, but Remus had always been careful to make it feel safe. He’d placed a silencing charm over the walls — “just so you can sleep easy, pup,” he’d said — a small ritual he never skipped.

After a string of long, dramatic goodnights from Sirius—each one louder than the last as Remus tried to usher him out—Cassie finally curled up beneath her blankets in the upstairs bedroom. The soft hum of the silencing charm wrapped around the house like a lullaby, steady and soothing. Her eyelids grew heavy as the wind whispered outside, and she drifted off, unaware that just beyond the garden wall, in the house next door, everything was about to change forever.

When she woke the next morning, Sirius was gone. Remus’s face was pale, drawn tight like he hadn’t slept. He told her they had to leave—now. There was no time to ask why. He bundled her up, and they left Godric’s Hollow behind.

Cassie never saw that village again.

“Remus wanted to take you,” Cassie thought, the words pressing on her tongue—but she knew better.

Before she could say anything, the portrait hole swung open and a burst of chatter filled the common room. The Gryffindors who had gone to Hogsmeade spilled in, cheeks flushed pink from the cold, arms weighed down with bags from the shops.

When Hermione and Ron spotted the three on the couch, they hurried over. Hermione greeted the girls warmly while Ron dropped a bulging paper bag straight into Harry’s lap.

“There you go,” Ron said proudly. “We got as much as we could carry.”

“Thanks,” Harry said, already picking up a small packet of Pepper Imps.

“You two look like you had the time of your lives,” Cassie said, grinning as she sifted through the pile for something she might like.

“What’s Hogsmeade like? Where did you go?” Lyra asked eagerly, leaning forward.

Hermione began listing on her fingers. “Dervish and Banges, Zonko’s Joke Shop, the Three Broomsticks for hot butterbeer, Honeydukes of course—oh! And the post office, Harry!” she added, eyes bright. “About two hundred owls, all sitting on shelves, color-coded depending on how fast you want your letter to get there!”

Cassie laughed. “Sounds like you were everywhere today.”

Ron nodded enthusiastically. “We think we saw an ogre—honestly, they get all sorts at the Three Broomsticks.”

“Wish we could’ve brought you some butterbeer,” he added. “Really warms you up. What did you lot get up to?” Hermione asked. “Did you get any work done?”

“No, Hermione, I did not get any work done,” Harry said flatly, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at his mouth as he tore open a Chocolate Frog box.

Ron snorted. “Didn’t think so.”

Cassie smirked. “To be fair, neither did we. But we did have quite the adventure without ever leaving the grounds.”

“Oh,” Harry said, sitting up a little straighter. “I did speak with Professor Lupin.”

“About the boggart?” Hermione asked quickly, leaning in with that familiar worried look she’d worn ever since the lesson.

“Well, yes,” Harry said, then glanced at Cassie. “But what took up most of our conversation was about my family.”

Ron, halfway through a Chocolate Frog, blinked. “Did he know them or something?”

“Oh, he knew them,” Harry said with a small smile. “He was close with my mum—and my aunt.”

“Like your Aunt Petunia?” Hermione asked, incredulous.

Harry chuckled and shook his head. “No. I found out my mum had another sister—Elodie.” He turned to Cassie, meeting her eyes.

“My mum,” Cassie said quietly, looking between them.

Hermione’s eyes widened, her expression softening into a delighted smile. “Oh… that’s wonderful!” she breathed.

Ron blinked, pointing a chocolatey finger at Cassie. “Hang on—she’s your cousin?”

“That she is,” Harry said with a grin, clearly still getting used to the sound of it.

“Familyyy,” Cassie said in an exaggerated, high-pitched voice, drawing out the word with a grin of her own.

They all laughed, the sound echoing warmly through the common room.

Hermione checked her watch. “We’d better go down, the feast’ll be starting in five minutes…”

Harry jumped up and dashed to his dorm to stash the sweets, while the rest of them waited, joking quietly as he returned. Soon, the five of them hurried through the portrait hole together, slipping into the bustling crowd of students in the Great Hall.

Upon arriving at the Great Hall, they found it transformed into a glowing masterpiece of autumn and magic. Pumpkins of every size filled the room—stacked in corners, lined along the tables, and floating in midair, their carved faces flickering with candlelight. Real bats swooped lazily beneath the enchanted ceiling, which churned with thunderclouds lit by flashes of distant lightning. The air smelled faintly of cinnamon and wax.

Cassie couldn’t help but smile; it felt like stepping into a dream. Still, as she watched the bats glide and dip, she thought about how long it had been since she’d flown herself. The thought tugged at her chest, soft and familiar.

As they neared the Gryffindor table, Cassie turned to Lyra. “I’ll be right back. Haven’t seen Remus all day—going to talk to him for a minute.”

Lyra smiled. “We’ll be here,” she said, slipping into the seat next to George.

Cassie turned toward the front of the Hall—and froze. “Boo!” Fred’s voice rang out, and there he was, towering in front of her with his hands curled like claws.

Cassie jumped, her heart leaping, then spun to glare at him once she regained her senses.

“What?” Fred said innocently, hands still raised. “Just getting into the Halloween spirit.”

“I’ll show you Halloween spirit,” Cassie muttered, nudging past him toward the staff table.

Remus looked up and smirked as she approached.

“What?” she grumbled, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice.

“He really is relentless,” Remus said with a teasing lilt.

“Relentless,” Cassie repeated, rolling her eyes but unable to hide the hint of a smile.

“Has Harry spoken to you yet?” Remus asked, his tone gentle but curious.

Cassie nodded, her smile broadening. “We talked, yes. I wasn’t sure how he’d feel at first, but he seemed… happy to know he has family.”

Remus glanced over her shoulder at Harry, and Cassie followed his gaze. Harry was laughing, eating, and genuinely happy—light spilling from him in a way that made her chest warm.

That’s when Fred caught her eye. She shot him a glare before swiveling back to Remus, who had clearly noticed.

“Relentless,” Cassie muttered again. “I just want to get in his head, y’know? Figure out what’s going on in there—and what drives him to make it his life’s mission to irritate me.”

Remus sighed. “When I first met… Pads,” he whispered the last part, wary of prying ears, “I met him on the train. The minute I heard his high-class, posh accent, I wanted nothing to do with him.”

“Not like you were the most open eleven-year-old ever,” Cassie teased.

Remus ignored her. “He was spoiled, loud, and irritating… not someone I’d naturally like.”

“So when did you become friends?” Cassie asked, brow raised.

Remus paused, thinking. “I think it was when I got in a fight with a Slytherin and planned… revenge. That’s when the pranks started. Over time, we got closer—and eventually became friends.”

Cassie laughed. “If you’re telling me to pull a prank… you’re mad.”

Remus chuckled. “No, that’s not what I meant. But you’re always around each other, yes?”

“It’s just… because Lyra fancies George, we’re kind of forced to be close all the time,” Cassie said, rolling her eyes.

“You’ll be friends one day,” Remus said with a wink. “I’m sure of it.”

Cassie turned away, shuddering at the thought. Never happening, she told herself firmly.

She made her way back to the table; Hermione scooted over to make room. Cassie smiled thanks, then fell silent for the rest of dinner — not because she was sulking, but because she hadn’t realised how hungry she was and was now terrifically, unapologetically chowing down.

“Someone’s hungry,” Fred teased, watching her shovel in another spoonful.

Cassie pointed her spoon at him, cheeks ballooned with mashed potato. “I am going to stuff your head in a pumpkin,” she mumbled around her mouthful, which only made Fred grin wider.

The feast wound down with the Hogwarts ghosts floating through the Hall, weaving between walls and tables in a sort of chaotic, synchronized flight. Nearly Headless Nick made a dramatic (and slightly grisly) recreation of his own beheading, wobbly head and all. It was strange, a little eerie, and entirely entertaining all at once.

Fred and George bolted from the Hall the moment the ghostly spectacle ended, shouting quick goodbyes over their shoulders as they went—no doubt off to set up for their Halloween party.

The girls left with Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Dean Thomas, joining the steady stream of students heading back upstairs. The corridors buzzed with chatter about the twins’ party—everyone seemed to be talking about it, thrilled that not just Gryffindors, but Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were invited too.

But as they rounded the last staircase, the mood shifted. A crowd had gathered in front of the Gryffindor common room.

“What’s going on?” Harry asked.

Ron scoffed. “Probably Neville’s forgotten the password again.”

“Hey!” Neville called from the back of the group.

“Oh—you’re there,” Ron said, surprised.

“Uh—let me through, please. Excuse me, I’m Head Boy!” someone shouted from the second flight of stairs, pushing through the throng of students.

Ron groaned.

“Get back! All of you! No one is to enter this dormitory until it has been fully searched!” the boy barked.

“Merlin, he is such a prat,” Ron muttered.

“Is he another one of your brothers?” Lyra asked.

“Sadly,” Ron sighed.

That’s when a young girl came running from the crowd toward their small group.

“And that’s my sister,” Ron added.

“There’s a lot of you,” Cassie said under her breath.

“The Fat Lady—she’s gone!” the young girl exclaimed, eyes wide.

Ron scoffed. “Serves her right. She was a terrible singer.”

Everyone craned their necks to see. When Cassie’s eyes found the portrait, she suppressed a gasp—there were deep claw marks slashed across the canvas, and the Fat Lady was nowhere to be seen.

“It’s not funny, Ron,” Hermione chastised him.

The surrounding portraits were just as confused. The air filled with the sounds of crying babies, laughter, and shrill, nervous chatter from painted figures rushing between frames.

“Ravenclaws—back to your common room!” the Head Boy ordered in his superior tone. “All quiet!”

The students on the stairs parted as Filch, the grizzled caretaker, rasped, “Come on, move!” and Dumbledore swept up the staircase.

Dumbledore stopped before the shredded portrait, his expression grave. He raised his hand, gently touching the torn fabric as though piecing the scene together.

He turned, his eyes somber, just as Professors McGonagall, Remus, and Snape arrived at his side.

“Mr. Filch,” Dumbledore said calmly, “round up the ghosts. Tell them to search every painting in the castle for the Fat Lady.”

He nodded to the teachers, who immediately began scanning the nearby portraits.

Filch, who had been peering upward, rasped, “There’s no need for ghosts, Professor.” He lifted a crooked finger. “The Fat Lady’s there!”

All the students gasped, then broke into a scramble toward where Filch was pointing.

Cassie hung back, her gaze darting over the chaos. When her eyes met Remus’s, there was a moment of silent understanding between them. Neither spoke.

They both turned back toward the shredded portrait, then followed the crowd up the stairs.

“Dear lady, who did this to you?” Dumbledore asked gently, his tone threaded with concern.

The Fat Lady peeked out from behind a painted hippopotamus in a sunlit savannah, her face pale and trembling.

“Eyes like the devil, he’s got—and a soul as dark as his name,” she whimpered, voice quivering. “It’s him, Headmaster. The one they all talk about. He’s here… somewhere in the castle. Sirius Black!”

She let out a shriek and disappeared once more behind the painted beast.

Cassie’s stomach dropped. It was exactly what she had feared.

“Secure the castle, Mr. Filch,” Dumbledore ordered, his voice suddenly firm. “The rest of you—to the Great Hall.”

Down in the Great Hall, Gryffindor was soon joined by the other Houses—Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and even Slytherin—each group buzzing with confusion and worry.

“Hey, what happened?” Ernie suddenly appeared at Cassie’s side, looking anxious.

“Ernie, hi,” Cassie said, brushing her hair back and glancing toward the staff table. “Um—how do I put this lightly? Sirius Black is in the castle.”

Ernie blinked. “Oh,” was all he managed. “Right. Yes. Of course.”

Before Cassie could say more, Dumbledore’s voice echoed across the hall, instantly silencing the noise.

“We must conduct a search of the castle,” he said gravely, as several professors moved to close and lock the massive doors. “I’m afraid that, for your own safety, you will have to spend the night here.”

He turned toward the students. “Prefects will stand guard over the entrances to the hall, and I am leaving the Head Boy and Girl in charge. Any disturbance should be reported to me immediately.”

Percy puffed up with importance, his chest swelling as Dumbledore continued, “Send word with one of the ghosts.”

The Headmaster paused, then added with a faint, almost weary smile, “Oh, yes—you’ll be needing…”

With a casual wave of his wand, the long tables soared gracefully to the edges of the room, pressing themselves against the walls. Another wave, and the stone floor shimmered, suddenly covered in hundreds of squashy purple sleeping bags.

“Sleep well,” said Professor Dumbledore, his voice soft but firm as he stepped through the doors, closing them behind him.

Some students had already settled onto the sleeping bags, quietly chatting about the much-anticipated—and now canceled—Halloween party, while others huddled together, worried and seeking comfort from friends.

Harry, Hermione, Ron, Lyra, Fred, and George lingered in a small group, their voices low. Harry looked particularly concerned. Cassie tugged gently on Lyra’s arm, pulling her aside for a moment.

“I have to go stand guard,” she said, pointing toward one of the hall entrances. “I’ll be right over there. Come get me if you need me.”

Lyra nodded and turned back to the group, while Cassie started walking toward an entrance with Ernie.

Cassie leaned against the stone wall near the entrance, keeping one eye on the hall while Ernie joined her, shifting nervously from foot to foot.

“Crazy night, huh?” Ernie said, trying to keep his voice light.

“You could say that,” Cassie replied, folding her arms. “I don’t think I ever expected this—but on Halloween, funnily enough, it’s fitting.”

Ernie nodded. “Yeah… I was really looking forward to the twins’ Halloween party too.” His eyes flicked toward the other students, then back to Cassie. “I had this brilliant costume planned.”

“Oh yeah?” Cassie asked, raising an eyebrow. “Tell me, Macmillan, what was this bloody brilliant costume?”

“It was going to be a surprise,” he said with a small shrug, “but since it’s not even happening anymore, I guess I’ll tell you. Being a Hufflepuff means owning a shite ton of black and yellow, so naturally… I was going to be a bee.”

Cassie laughed. “A bee?!”

“Yes, a bee,” Ernie said, smirking. “Is that funny now, Lark?”

“Yes, it is—funny and ironic,” Cassie replied. “I was going to be a ladybug. We’d practically be matching.”

“You’re serious?” Ernie asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, silly. I’m Cassie,” she said, teasing lightly, though the situation in the castle was far from ideal.

“Ha ha. Very funny,” Ernie said, deadpan.

Cassie gave a dramatic bow. “Why, thank you.”

“Alright, jokes aside—next year then. Bee and ladybug,” Ernie said, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Deal,” Cassie said, grinning.

As the pair talked, they gradually sank closer to the floor until, eventually, they were slumped back-to-back on the cobbled stone, talking drowsily and becoming slap-happy into the wee hours of the night. The castle was quiet—but not eerily so—and it felt more like a huge sleepover in the Great Hall than anything else. Cassie wasn’t sure what time it was when sleep finally claimed her, her head resting on her arms, knees curled into her chest. Ernie leaned against her back, snoring softly beneath the starry, enchanted ceiling, the soft glow of floating candles casting a gentle warmth over the scene.

---

8.Under the Weather

Because of the night everyone had, the students were still given the next morning off. Even so, Cassie woke with the sun, her eyes stinging from exhaustion. Ernie had shifted in the night and was now curled in a corner, no longer using her as a pillow. She glanced around the Great Hall—everyone else was still asleep.

The next thing she knew, a dark figure was striding toward her. For a moment, Cassie thought she was dreaming—until the sweep of his cloak and the sharp click of his boots jolted her fully awake. Snape.

He reached into his robes and drew out a small bottle of shimmering violet potion. The color caught the faint morning light, swirling like smoke in glass.

“I’d recommend delivering this sooner rather than later,” he said, his tone clipped.

The moon was on Friday.

Cassie nodded and pushed herself to her feet, her legs stiff from sleeping on stone. “Thank you, Professor.”

Without another word, Snape pulled open the Great Hall doors, the hinges groaning in the quiet. Before the echo faded, his voice followed her out: “You are to return here after delivering it.”

Cassie only nodded again, clutching the bottle tight as the doors shut behind her.

Cassie made her way up to the seventh floor at a sluggish pace, still groggy and bleary-eyed but determined. When she reached the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, she knocked softly instead of barging in like she usually did.

The door creaked open to reveal Remus, still in his pajamas, hair a complete disaster, rubbing a hand over his face like he was trying to wake himself up.

“Oh. It’s just you,” he said flatly, though one corner of his mouth twitched. “Come on, then.”

Cassie slipped inside and shut the door behind her. “Do you have a bedroom in here or something?”

“Yes,” Remus said, already turning toward his office. “There’s a door in the back that leads to it.”

Cassie raised her brows. “That’s… weirdly domestic. Should I start knocking before entering your home now?”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “Considering the hour, yes. Preferably with breakfast.”

“Next time I’ll bring coffee,” she said, following him in. “You look like you could use a gallon.”

“I could,” he said dryly. “But I’ll settle for not being ambushed at dawn.”

“Ambushed? Please. You opened the door.”

He gave her a look—half amusement, half exasperation—that said she wasn’t wrong. Then he turned and motioned for her to follow.

“Come on,” he said, leading her through the classroom and into his office.

The room was dim, lit only by the gray morning light filtering through the high windows. Books were stacked on every available surface, papers spilling over the edge of his desk in that distinctly Remus way—organized chaos. A chipped mug sat beside a pile of essays, steam long gone.

Cassie trailed in behind him, taking it all in. “Wow,” she said. “And here I thought my dorm was a mess.”

Remus gave a tired huff of laughter. “You try keeping tidy after grading fifty first-year essays about hinkypunks.”

“Sounds riveting,” Cassie said, pulling the small bottle of purple potion from her pocket. “Speaking of fun things…”

He glanced at it, and for a moment the easy humor between them softened into quiet understanding.

“Snape?” he asked.

Cassie nodded. “Said to deliver it sooner rather than later.”

Remus sighed—half relief, half resignation—and took the large vial carefully, the light catching in his tired eyes.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, uncapping the vial and pouring the potion into the goblet sitting on his desk. The liquid shimmered faintly, thick and purple in the morning light.

“How much of that are you supposed to take?” Cassie asked, wrinkling her nose.

“A full goblet every day before the moon,” Remus said. He lifted it with a grimace. “Tastes vile, by the way—and before you ask, no, sugar doesn’t help, it actually renders the potion useless.”

Cassie smirked. “You’ve tried?”

“Desperation makes a man creative,” he said,with a resigned sigh, he lifted the goblet and downed the potion in one go. Cassie winced as he swallowed, his expression twisting like someone forcing down cough syrup.

“Merlin,” he muttered, setting the empty cup aside. “Every month I tell myself it can’t possibly taste worse. Every month I’m wrong.”

Cassie laughed softly. “On that note, I should probably get back.”

She straightened, affecting her best deep, dramatic voice. “‘You are to return here after delivering it,’” she recited in a near-perfect Snape impression.

Remus gave her a tired but genuine smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Excellent delivery. Though I’d advise you not to let him catch you doing that.”

“I value my life, thank you,” Cassie said, grinning as she headed for the door.

That same day, the portrait of the Fat Lady had been replaced by a mad knight and his fat white pony—Sir Cadogan. Cassie had heard from Seamus that he’d already changed the password twice that morning.

After Halloween, talk of Sirius Black was at an all-time high. Remus had been preparing for the moon himself, and Cassie hadn’t told him yet that she planned to be with him in the shack that night. She was still struggling to come up with an excuse for Lyra explaining why she wouldn’t be in the dorm.

The weather had been worsening all week, and by Friday it was truly awful—as if nature itself knew what was coming that night. Remus had been given the day off, and Snape, who had coveted the Defense Against the Dark Arts post for years, jumped at the chance to teach.

“Two-roll parchment on werewolves by Monday,” Harry said, plopping down into an armchair.

“Werewolves?” Cassie asked, uneasy.

Why was Snape, who knew of Remus’ condition, teaching Remus’ class… about werewolves, the very thing he was trying to hide?

“Right git,” Ron said, scowling as he sank into the armchair across from Harry, then glanced at Hermione.

Hermione hadn’t looked at anyone since entering the common room, but the moment she sat, she laid her head on Cassie’s shoulder. Cassie didn’t ask; she simply rubbed Hermione’s back in comfort.

“I’m sorry you got detention, Ron,” Hermione murmured softly from her place on Cassie’s shoulder.

“Hermione, stop,” Ron said quickly.

“It was my fault,” Hermione insisted.

Cassie glanced at Harry.

“We hadn’t talked about werewolves yet,” he said. “Snape was asking questions, and the only person who knew the answers was Hermione.”

“Because she’s brilliant,” Ron said.

“Because I’m an insufferable know-it-all,” Hermione muttered.

Cassie placed her hands on Hermione’s shoulders, lifting her to meet her eyes. “He said that?”

Hermione nodded, her expression sad.

“He asked the question,” Ron added. “Why ask if you don’t want to be told?”

“Those words landed him in detention,” Harry said.

Cassie scowled, brushing Hermione’s hair from her face. “He is miserable, Hermione, and you are so bright. Just because he can’t see it doesn’t make it any less true.”

Then she turned to Ron. “And you defended her—detention or not—it was the right thing to do.”

“She’s my friend,” Ron said. “Plus, it had to be the most ridiculous reason for him to be angry.”

“So… is Professor Lupin okay? Because I’m not sure how much longer I can endure Snape,” Harry asked.

“He’s not feeling well,” Cassie said, the lie coming easily after all the practice. “Might be the weather, though when he gets sick, he really gets sick—and often. Smoked when he was younger, so his immune system’s terrible.”

“Is there anything we can give him?” Ron asked, desperation creeping into his voice.

“Yes. Snape’s been brewing something to help,” Cassie said.

“Snape?” Ron repeated, incredulous. “And Professor Lupin is willingly drinking it?”

“Snape wouldn’t dare poison him,” Cassie replied firmly.

“How do you know?” Harry pressed.

“Because he wouldn’t,” Cassie said.

Later that evening, after dinner, Cassie and Lyra sat on their beds in the dorm, working on their homework. Lyra scribbled diligently, but Cassie’s quill hovered over her parchment, untouched. Her mind was elsewhere, running through the plan for the next few hours.

She would leave the dorm and make her way to the Shrieking Shack, timing it so she arrived just before the moon rose. She needed to check in with Remus, make sure he was alright before the transformation. Then, she would stay out of the way, keeping quiet through the night, and tend to him in the morning before returning in time for classes.

The only complication: her friends. Cassie had to think of a reason for her absence that wouldn’t raise questions, especially from Lyra, who would notice if she suddenly disappeared for hours.

“I’m gonna go shower,” Lyra said suddenly, sliding off her bed and rubbing her face. “I cannot do another line of work.”

“’Kay,” Cassie said. “Oh— I’ll be in the library late tonight helping Ernie.” The excuse came so quickly she felt a flicker of pride.

Lyra turned, one brow raised. “You’ve been spending an awful lot of time with Ernie lately, Lark.”

Cassie crossed her arms. “If you’re insinuating I fancy Ernie, you’d be mistaken.”

“Maybe he fancies you,” Lyra said with a shrug.

“Merlin, I hope not. He’s far too good of a friend,” Cassie said, wrinkling her nose.

Lyra held her hands up in mock innocence. “Will I see you later?”

“Eh, probably not,” Cassie said after a beat, trying to sound casual. “I’ll be out late, so I’m planning on sleeping in.”

“Okay, but if I find out you’ve been snogging Macmillan all night—”

“Gross.” Cassie cringed. “I hope you drown in the shower.”

Lyra laughed. “Alright, can I bring you breakfast in the morning?”

“That’d be lovely, thank you,” Cassie said, forcing a small smile. “You’re still a bum, though.”

“You love me,” Lyra said over her shoulder as she disappeared into the bathroom.

As the door shut, Cassie called after her, “Hate you!”

The door cracked open again; Lyra stuck her head out with a grin. “Liar.” Then she vanished behind it for good.

That was Cassie’s cue. She slipped into her pajamas—that way, when Lyra saw her the next morning, it'd be believable—and quietly cracked open the window, letting in the soft hiss of rain. Not wide enough for Lyra to notice, just enough for her to slip back in later without anyone realizing she’d ever left.

"I'm leaving!" Cassie called over her shoulder.

"Okay!" Lyra’s voice came faintly through the sound of running water.

And with that, Cassie slipped out of the dorm, her heart thudding as she made her way down toward the south exit. Rain pattered against the stone walls and the halls were quiet at this hour, shadows stretching long across the stone. By the time she reached the wooden bridge, the night air—damp and sharp with rain—had her fully awake.

Halfway across, she broke into a sprint, her boots splashing through puddles, hair plastered to her face as droplets ran down her cheeks. She noted to use a drying charm later. She raced toward the standing stones, rain stinging her skin. She thought she might hide behind one to transform—still torn between slipping through the tunnel beneath the Whomping Willow, which would recognize her in bird form, or simply flying straight to the Shrieking Shack and finding her own way in.

When she reached the stones, wind and rain biting at her cheeks, she made up her mind. The tunnel was the safer bet—Merlin forbid she got there and couldn’t find a way inside.

Cassie took a steadying breath, letting the rain wash over her. The night air seemed to hum around her, cool and alive, tugging at something deep in her chest. Her heartbeat grew lighter, quicker—like wings beating just beneath her ribs. She could almost feel the air sliding over feathers that weren’t there yet, the pull of instinct urging her upward, away.

She closed her eyes and leaned into that pull. The shift came softly, almost like an exhale—the chill of the wet ground slipping from her skin, her senses sharpening to the rustle of grass, the hiss of rain on stone, and the far-off hoot of an owl. When she opened her eyes, the world was wider, brighter.

Just like that, she took off—wings spreading wide as the rain-slicked air caught beneath her. It felt good to be in the sky again, weightless and wild, gliding through the cool, stormy dusk. The castle lights faded behind her, and the wind and drizzle rushed past in soft, steady currents that lifted her higher.

The flight was short but freeing all the same. Rain streaked across her vision, and spattered her feathers. Through the downpour she spotted the dark hole nestled among the twisted roots of the Whomping Willow. She tilted her wings and circled once above it, the wind tugging at her as sheets of rain lashed past. From this height, the opening looked impossibly small.

She debated her options: land and waddle awkwardly into the tunnel like some overgrown pigeon, or dive straight in and risk smacking face-first against the packed dirt floor. Neither sounded particularly graceful.

With a faint huff, Cassie tucked her wings and swooped low, trusting her aim. She dove from the darkened sky, rain stinging her eyes, and slipped into the tunnel, skimming just above the floor before catching herself. Wings steady, she glided down the subterranean corridor, droplets dripping off her feathers, navigating a few flights of stairs with practiced ease, until she finally reached the room where Remus stayed.

“Is that a bird? How did a bird—” Remus started, watching as Cassie glided around the room. Then his voice cut sharp: “Cassiopeia Lune Lark, get down here this instant!”

Cassie grew back to her human size midair, landing lightly on the tattered wooden floor of the shack.

“You know,” she began, brushing her hair from her face, “I was thinking… all the Marauders have nicknames for their Animagi, right? Don’t you think it’d be easier for me to have one too?”

“Cassie,” Remus said, his voice a mix of exasperation and concern. “What are you doing here?”

Cassie looked around, as though it were obvious. “Staying with you tonight.”

“No, you’re not,” Remus said firmly.

“Yes, I am,” Cassie insisted. “I’ve done it before.”

“This is completely different,” Remus said.

“How?” Cassie asked.

“Because we’re at school,” Remus replied, spreading his arms wide. “We’re stuck in this shack.”

“I’m here to make sure you get the help you need, then I’ll leave. I promise,” Cassie said.

Remus let out an exasperated sigh, seemingly out of retorts. “Where do you plan on staying?” he asked, crossing his arms.

Cassie looked up. “I’ll get comfy on one of those beams up there.”

Remus scrubbed a tired hand down his face. “There’s no stopping you.”

“Nope,” Cassie said.

“Sounds like you’re just as bad as your friend Fred,” Remus said.

“Do not compare me to that prick,” Cassie shot back.

Remus glanced out the window with a laugh, then back at her. “Alright, get up there. Should be happening soon.”

Cassie nodded, complying. She shrank once again and flapped up toward a beam.

Remus pointed a warning finger at her. “Don’t watch.”

Cassie gave a whistled acknowledgment. “I won’t.” And it was true—she’d seen it once before, and never again.

Cassie perched on the beam, bracing herself for the worst part of the night. A flash of lightning lit the sky outside the shack, followed almost instantly by a deafening boom of thunder. That was when the transformation began—nature could be cruel sometimes.

She twisted her head back, resting it against the beam, and shut her eyes, waiting for the worst of it to pass.

It was moments like these that Cassie was glad great-eared nightjars were nocturnal. She could stay up all night as an Animagus without problem, though it would hit her in the morning. When she had first chosen the bird, she’d been swayed by its dragon-like look—those tufted “ears” giving it an almost mythical silhouette—but over time, she’d come to appreciate all the other remarkable traits.

The way it could hover silently in midair, wings spread wide, made her feel like a shadow gliding over the earth. Its enormous eyes, perfectly adapted for night vision, let her see in near-total darkness. She loved the soft, cryptic patterns of its feathers, which blended seamlessly into the forest floor or the bare wooden walls of the shack, making her almost invisible. And, of course, the almost eerie, melodic calls that carried through the night—it was a song only the night understood.

It had been a good choice.

The night passed fairly quickly, though Cassie watched Remus pace in circles around the shack for hours. She half-expected him to wear an indented path into the wooden floor.

As soon as Remus was human once more, Cassie checked him over and tended to any injuries, making sure he was steady before leaving. She slipped out of the shack through the tunnel beneath the Whomping Willow and took to the sky. From above, the earth smelled sharp and alive—the damp, earthy scent of wet dirt and sodden leaves rising from the ground, mingling with the faint tang of moss and wood. Every gust of wind carried the storm’s wild energy, tugging at her feathers, urging her onward toward the castle.

The flight back to Gryffindor Tower felt like gliding through a world painted in faint pinks and shades of grey. Cassie tucked her wings and swooped low, skimming the treetops before finally approaching the familiar silhouette of the castle.

She slid quietly through the window into her and Lyra’s dorm. The room was warm and still, and the soft, rhythmic sound of Lyra’s snores drifted across the room. She tiptoed to her bed then eased herself onto it, curling beneath the covers, and let exhaustion claim her.

Cassie had layered the Impervius Charm over everything she was wearing, but it didn’t stop the cold from biting through. The rain came sideways, needling her cheeks and seeping into her sleeves, and though she didn’t care much for Quidditch, she was there.

There’d been a sudden change that morning—Slytherin was out, Hufflepuff was in—and the stands were buzzing despite the miserable weather. Students huddled beneath umbrellas and cloaks that whipped in the wind, laughter and chatter carrying over the roar of the storm. Cassie, as you’d expect, wasn’t one of the excited ones.

A familiar voice called over the noise. “Hey, Cass!”

She turned to see Ernie Macmillan forcing his way through a cluster of soaked Gryffindors, his blond hair plastered to his forehead, arms wrapped tightly around himself. He looked thoroughly miserable.

“Merlin, Ernie,” Cassie said, grinning, “you look— and I mean this in the nicest way possible—like a drowned rat.”

Ernie gave her a flat look. “You have such a way with words, Lark.”

Cassie laughed, pulling out her wand. With a flick, she cast a quick Tergeo to dry him off, followed by the same Impervius charm she’d used on herself and Lyra. “Better?”

Ernie sighed in relief. “Significantly. I might actually survive this.”

Lyra, sitting on Cassie’s other side, cleared her throat pointedly. “I’ve heard so much about Ernie Macmillan, yet haven’t had the pleasure of a formal introduction.”

“All good things, I hope,” Ernie said, shooting Cassie a teasing look.

“I’m not in the mood to boost your ego, Ernie,” Cassie said dryly. “This is Lyra Thorne, my dorm mate.”

“Her best friend,” Lyra corrected with a grin.

“Yeah, yeah,” Cassie said, rolling her eyes fondly.

“So,” Lyra went on, tilting her head, “how was the library, you two?”

Before Cassie could reply, Madam Hooch’s whistle cut sharply through the steady patter of rain, signaling the start of the match.

Ernie leaned slightly toward Cassie as the players took off. “Library?” he murmured.

“I needed an excuse to sneak off,” Cassie said under her breath. “You were the excuse.”

Ernie shrugged, lips twitching. “Fair enough,” he said, turning his attention back to the game.

A flash of lightning split the darkened sky, illuminating the pitch for a heartbeat, followed by a low, rolling crack of thunder that shook the stands. Rain sluiced down in sheets, drumming on the umbrellas and cloaks of the crowd.

One umbrella, loosened by the wind, snapped free from a Hufflepuff student’s grasp. It spun wildly into the air, twirling end over end before vanishing into the misty gray above the pitch. Cassie flinched and pulled her cloak tighter, watching as the players streaked into the storm, robes plastered to their bodies, brooms slicing through the sheets of rain.

Ernie muttered something under his breath, and Cassie only nodded, her eyes glued to the chaotic blur of scarlet and yellow above the field. The wind tugged at her hair, the rain stung her cheeks, and yet she couldn’t look away—every sudden movement of a player or Bludger sent her heart skipping.

From the announcer’s tower, Lee’s voice rang out, carrying over the howling wind. “And Gryffindor takes the lead—what a dive from Angelina Johnson! Careful now, don’t lose the broom in that wind, love!” he added with a wink Cassie could just imagine at the pitch.

Another streak of lightning cut the sky, momentarily revealing the players as little more than streaks of color. A Bludger shot past, skimming dangerously close to Harry. Cassie’s stomach lurched as she leaned forward, gripping the edge of the stand. The chase was on, and the storm made every move unpredictable, every dodge a small miracle.

A stitch of lightning struck the tail of Angelina Johnson’s broom. Flames erupted instantly, licking the wet wood and fabric, and she plummeted toward the pitch.

“Merlin, Angie!” Cassie breathed, clutching her cloak tighter as the rain sluiced down her face.

Harry shot upward, dodging her flaming broom with barely a thought, eyes locked on the glimmering Snitch darting through the sheets of rain. Brooms sliced through the storm like streaks of color, players twisting and turning to avoid the Bludgers that whistled past.

From the announcer’s tower, Lee’s voice cracked with genuine alarm. “Bl—blimey! Angelina! Hold on, hold on—steady, steady! Oh Merlin, that broom—fire—she’s falling—don’t let her—!”

Cassie couldn’t even see Harry now. Her eyes scanned the storm-dark sky, but all she caught were heavy, pelting droplets that stung her face and blurred her vision.

Cedric had already fallen back toward the pitch, swept aside by the gale.

“These are not playable conditions! This is insanely dangerous!” Cassie cried, her voice almost lost in the roar of wind and rain.

“Wood isn’t one to let up,” Ernie said, squinting through the downpour. “Rain or shine, Oliver Wood will have Quidditch.”

“He’s mad,” Lyra muttered, shivering in her cloak.

Harry had been gone for nearly two minutes. Usually, that wouldn’t feel long—but now it stretched into an eternity. The game itself didn’t matter. Not really. All that mattered was him.

Around the three-minute mark, a wave of shouting erupted from the stands. Fingers pointed skyward, voices breaking above the storm. Cassie followed their gaze—and her heart dropped.

Harry was plummeting, a helpless figure hurtling toward the pitch, his broom nowhere to be found. Nausea churned in her stomach. He was mere centimeters from crashing, bones about to shatter under the impact, when a clear, commanding voice cut through the chaos:

“Arresto momentum!”

Time froze. Rain hung suspended in the air. The match ended in an instant.

Cassie didn’t wait to process it. She pushed herself out of the stands and bolted, racing across the sodden grass toward the hospital wing the moment Harry was carried off.

Cassie paced the length of the hospital wing, boots thudding softly against the flagstones, trying to ignore the fact that her cousin lay unconscious only a few feet away. The air was thick with the sharp tang of potions and the low hum of worried chatter. Every bed seemed to hold another casualty from the match.

Madam Pomfrey darted between them like a general on a battlefield, robes flaring as she hurried to a Hufflepuff boy with several umbrella spokes embedded in his neck—an awful, stomach-turning sight that made Cassie wince. Nearby, Angelina Johnson groaned faintly on her cot, her head bandaged and her curls singed at the ends. “Just slightly concussed,” Pomfrey had said, but Cassie wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be comforting.

Lyra soon appeared and fell into step beside her, pacing in silent solidarity. Across the room, Fred and George hovered near Harry’s bed, unusually quiet, while Ron and Hermione stood vigil on the other side. Seamus and Neville arrived last, faces painted Gryffindor red and gold but streaked with worry, their cheers long since gone hoarse.

The room was a whirl of motion—of whispered spells, hovering bandages, and the nervous rustle of uniforms—but for Cassie, everything narrowed to the steady rise and fall of Harry’s chest.

Suddenly, Cassie heard her name being called.

“Oi, Larkie!”

Her head snapped toward the cluster of friends gathered around Harry’s bed. Heart leaping, she hurried over and perched carefully on the edge of the mattress, waiting. Everyone leaned in as Harry began to stir.

“Looks a bit peaky, doesn’t he?” Ron said, leaning over Hermione.

“Peaky?” Fred echoed.

“What’d you expect?” George said.

“He fell over a hundred feet,” Fred added.

“Yeah, c’mon, Ron,” George teased. “We’ll walk you off the Astronomy Tower and see what you look like.”

“Probably a right sight better than he normally does,” Harry muttered, voice rough but laced with snark.

A ripple of laughter broke out around the bed as Harry shifted, grunting as he pushed himself upright until he was propped against his pillow.

“How are you feeling?” Hermione asked, her voice soft and worried.

“Oh, brilliant,” Harry said dryly.

“You gave us a right good scare there, mate,” George said, shaking his head.

“What happened?” Harry asked groggily.

“Well,” Ron said, “you fell off your broom.”

“Really?” Harry said flatly. “I meant the match. Who won?”

The question landed heavy. No one answered right away. Hermione glanced at Cassie, who pretended to brush some imaginary lint from Harry’s blanket.

“Um… no one blames you, Harry,” Hermione said at last. “The Dementors aren’t supposed to come inside the grounds.”

Harry sighed.

“Dumbledore was furious,” Hermione added quietly. “As soon as he saved you, he sent them straight off.”

Ron stepped forward, clutching a plaid fabric bag that sagged oddly in his hands.
“There’s, uh… something else you should know, Harry,” he began uncertainly. “When you fell, your broom—it, um… it sort of flew into the Whomping Willow. And…”

He opened the bag. Inside was what could only be described as a jigsaw puzzle of Harry’s Nimbus Two Thousand.

“Well, it’s, uh…” Ron trailed off, fishing out a splintered piece that looked particularly branch-like.

Harry didn’t say anything. He just turned his head toward the window, eyes fixed on the rain-slick branches of the Whomping Willow thrashing in the wind.

“How’s Wood?” Harry asked finally, voice flat.

“In the showers,” Fred said. “We think he’s trying to drown himself.”

Harry groaned, scrubbing a hand down his face.

Fred clapped a hand on his shoulder—then shook him rather violently.

“Hey!” Cassie snapped. “Let the boy recover, Merlin.”

“It’s one match, Harry,” Fred said, entirely ignoring her. “You’ve never failed to catch the Snitch.”

“’Cept today,” Harry muttered.

“That doesn’t count,” Lyra said firmly. “There were Dementors on the grounds.”

“Exactly,” Fred agreed.

“Hufflepuff might’ve won,” George added, “but even Cedric said he wants a rematch—said the conditions were unfair.”

“Doesn’t matter now,” Harry said, sinking back against his pillow to stare up at the ceiling.

For a few moments, the room was quiet save for the soft patter of rain against the windows. Then Madam Pomfrey appeared, brisk as ever, and began ushering them toward the door.

“Let him rest,” she said firmly, flapping her hands at them like errant chickens.

“We’ll come and see you later,” Fred promised. “Don’t beat yourself up, Harry — you’re still the best Seeker we’ve ever had.”

The group drifted out one by one until only Cassie remained, still hovering beside Harry’s bed.

“I understand you’re family,” Madam Pomfrey called gently from the doorway, “but he needs rest.”

Cassie glanced from Harry to her, then nodded. “Be back later,” she murmured, rising to her feet.

“How is he?” Pomfrey asked as Cassie joined her by the door.

“Bruised ego’s the worst of it,” Cassie said, managing a small smile. “Other than that—perfectly fine. Just tired.”

“That’s about what I expected,” Pomfrey said with a knowing sigh.

“Thank you,” Cassie added quietly.

Madam Pomfrey smiled. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to tend to that poor boy over there. Nasty business—who knew umbrellas could be so dangerous?”

Cassie winced at the memory. “Right. I’ll see you Tuesday, then.”

“Tuesday,” Pomfrey confirmed with a nod.

Cassie gave a little wave before slipping out to join her friends in the corridor, the echo of rain and laughter fading behind her.

Madam Pomfrey had insisted that Harry remain in the hospital wing for the weekend, so Cassie visited whenever she could — though most of Sunday was lost to sleep. She was still drained from the long night in the Shrieking Shack, the exhaustion settling deep in her bones. Sleeping until noon was wildly out of character for her, but Lyra didn’t notice; she, too, had slept in late after spending most of the evening with George.

By Monday, Remus was back to teaching, and November had settled fully in — each day colder than the last. The threat of Sirius Black still hung over the castle like a shadow, and Cassie couldn’t shake the feeling that their paths would cross sooner or later. She just didn’t know what she’d do when that moment finally came.