Cassandra
The Grey Lady is not the only Ravenclaw ghost. Join me as I unlock the secrets of Cassandra Vablatsky; the greatest seer ever to have lived…
Gather 'round children, and I will tell you a story…oh what a story! 'Tis a tale of epic proportions; of deceit and betrayal! I was once a beautiful young woman. I was tall, taller than most men, and very slender. I was fair, with golden hair, and lips as pink as roses. But my eyes were the asset that people said were the prettiest. They were a brilliant icy blue, an unusual color, and men said that when I looked at them, it was as I was looking into the depths of their soul. So brilliant and unusual, they said, that one look at me, and my eyes were burned into their memories forever. No one ever forgot my eyes, because one look at them, and everyone knew what I was. But we will speak more of that later. As I was saying, I was a beautiful woman, the apple of my father's eye, the star of my family. Then, tragedy struck, and my family was completely destroyed. For I had a terrible secret. One that, when discovered, changed my life, and the lives of those around me forever.
I had said before that when one looked into my eyes, they knew what I was. This is because such eyes belong only to those with…unusual talents. They are the mark of a seer. I could see the future…and what a grim future it was! I saw kings slain and empires felled. I saw death and destruction bestowed upon every village. I saw cruel men who pillaged and plundered, raped and murdered. I saw terrible, terrible things. Of course, I also saw good things, but those were dark times, so good visions were few and far in between. So mostly, I saw terrible things.
The most unfortunate part of this gift was that I could See at anytime, anywhere. It could not be controlled. Try as I might, the visions came and went; like the ebb and flow of the tide. My mother had tried to offer me some advice about my gift. "Cassandra, darling," she had said. "Please do all that you can to control your visions, and do not let people know about them. They will use and abuse you cruelly." But I was a naïve child then, and I thought only of the best in people. "But Mama!" I cried. "I can help them. They will be grateful for what I tell them. I'll save their lives!" My mother pleaded with me to listen, but I refused. I would be a famous. Kings would shower me with riches. I would be the most beautiful woman in the world, with the finest things, and princes would clamor for my hand in marriage! These dreams danced tantalizingly in my head, and I began to brag about my talent to anyone who would listen. But I soon found out that my talent was a curse. One morning, my mother kissed me and left to go to the market. I was playing in the yard, and feeding the chickens, when I had a vision of my mother lying on the ground, eyes glassy. I screamed, and ran out of the yard and the house, desperately trying to find the marketplace. I had not thought to get help, and wandered for hours and hours. Finally, as stars shone like diamonds in the night sky, I found the marketplace, and located my mother. Later, they said that they had found traces of poison in her mouth. Belladonna, they said, a common ingredient in cosmetics. Most likely, they said, she had tried out a new product at the marketplace, and had overdosed. I refused to listen to anyone. The look of horror etched on my mother's face as she lay on the ground was burned into my mind forever, and I was adamant that she had been murdered. "Poor darling", people said, and patted my head sympathetically. "She is traumatized, and has always been inclined to be dramatic anyway." No one believed me. I tried to tell my father. "Why would anyone want to hurt us?" he said. "We have never hurt anyone." I tried to tell the cook. "Do not speak of such things!" she said. "It was fate. The gods decided that it was time to for her to leave this world. Are you questioning their judgment?" I shook my head meekly. So, I gave up trying, and hoped that things would improve.
Things did not, however. My father remarried less than a year after my mother's death. My new stepmother was so unlike my mother. Dark where she was fair, tall where she was petite, cold where she was full of warmth. She was dressed in black. Her skin was pale and her lips crimson. A cruel smile played upon her lips as she kissed my cheeks, saying she was so happy to be welcomed into our little family. I shuddered in fear. My father told me I was being silly. "Cassandra, she is kind and virtuous, and I can tell that she already loves you!" My poor father –she had ensnared him and I could already see that he was lost to me forever. And so it began. At first, she complained about little things. "Cassandra does not clean up after herself when she eats!" she'd say, or, "She forgets to feed the chickens!" Over the years, her complaints grew more and more vicious. "She mocks me behind my back! She steals from me! She lies constantly!" Day in and day out, she could be seen hissing viciously in my father's ear about my innumerable misdeeds.
One morning, I was on my way to the marketplace, and I had another vision. In it, I was in a dark room. I was much older – middle-aged I think – and I was crying bitterly and helplessly. After my vision, I was filled with dread. The sense of despair that I had felt while Seeing pervaded my senses. It enveloped me, and I could not break free from it. I had a horrible sense of foreboding, and quickly completed my errands so that I could return home, even though I was quite certain that what I had Seen would not come to pass for many years yet, since I had appeared so much older in the vision. Something else would happen today, however; I was sure of it. Somethng that would set things in motion and lead me down a dark path, farther and farther until at last I ended up alone in that room I had Seen, consumed with sorrow. I hurried on.
I opened the door to my house, walked in, and stopped short. There, in the hallway stood my stepmother. As I stared at her, a triumphant smile appeared on her face. "Darling, there you are!" she purred like a cat catching sight of her prey. She looked quite delighted. "Close the door, will you? It is becoming quite chilly these days, winter is approaching fast." And with that she turned, and moved into the next room, beckoning me with a long finger with the fingernail painted a deep blood red.
My father was in the other room. "Dearest Cassandra, Morena tells me that you have been having a lot of trouble adjusting to her joining our family. I know you are still upset about your mother, but you are not alone! Your new mother cares about you very much!" She smirked, and I saw red. "She is not my mother!" I hissed. She came to stand behind my father, and placed a hand on his shoulder. He went on as if he had not heard me, "We have decided to send you to stay with my sister. You will go to Hogwarts, and she will teach you how to behave like a young lady. It is a school for young wizards and witches. I am sure you will love it. " I pleaded with him, stomped my foot, and cried, but it was to no avail. I would be leaving in the morning.
It was with a heavy heart that I packed my bags and seated myself in the carriage the next day with my father. As we traveled down the winding dirt road that led away from our house, my father squeezed my hand and told me that everything would work out. He was sure that during my stay with my aunt, I would become a fine well-educated woman. The trip was altogether too short, and before I knew it we were there. He greeted my aunt and they talked in low voices for a few minutes. Then, before I knew it, I was hugging him goodbye as he got into the carriage and pulled away. I wondered if, and when, I would ever see him again…