A/N: What's written in the square brackets is from Warner Brothers.
Stars dusted the navy blue sky and the full moon was large enough so passersby could see its craters. The chilly air rocked the large ship, which sat upon the lake, its creaking echoed throughout the grounds. Magnificent white horses in a small paddock shifted restlessly and snorted. Some even glanced at the elegant periwinkle-blue carriage hopefully as they wished to be hoisted to it so they can fly freely again. The carriage would have reminded some of the one made of pumpkin in the muggle tale, Cinderella. A lone owl swooped through the clearing from the forest and through an opened window of the castle. It navigated its way in the empty hallways. The moonlight reflected off the white coat as the owl soared, enjoying the flight, until it flew into the girls' bathroom.
A girl in a gorgeous white-silk gown exited the bathroom of which the owl flew. Her thick silvery-blonde curls were tied in a loose ponytail on the side and her hair brought to the front. Her studded earrings were made of white gold and blue zircon, as were her rocking horse pendent necklace and ring. In a passing window she checked her make-up again. It was exactly how she wanted; frosty pink glossy lips, black mascara that elongated her already-full lashes, lightly applied ice-blue eyeliner just on the lower rim to make her piercing blue eyes to appear larger and bluer, and finally dusty white eye shadow that sparkled silvery blue in the light. She looked at her hands to make sure her silver painted nails weren't chipped, taking a moment to admire the charm bracelet on her left wrist. What she loved about her jewelry is that the zircons changed to whichever colour she wanted.
She smiled, as finally she could be herself again. No more pretending as she hid from those who wanted to snatch her. She had this one night to finally be herself. In a few more years, though, she wouldn't have to hide ever. She'd be set free. Her lack of schooling was troublesome. How could she make a living? If only she had the chance. Water lined the rim of her eyes but she refused to cry, blinking back the tears she continued through the deserted corridors. Beautiful music reached her ears and she closed her eyes and put her hands on her face. She stayed like that for a few moments, soaking in the bliss of it and trying to calm her nerves. She swayed in time to the music and her delicate fingers trembled down to her rapidly beating heart. As she exhaled heavily she opened her eyes and continued toward the Yule Ball.
She stopped right outside the door and peeked inside, her head visible to anyone who was looking as she held onto the frame. There he was. The boy she went through so much trouble for. She would have done anything for him. She treasured him in her heart. It wasn't because he was famous nor because he was participating in the Triwizard Tournament. No, it was because he chose her. He took her in when she had nowhere else to go. He took care of her and made sure she was fed. And he loved her back with every ounce of his heart, though not in the way she would have hoped. He loved her more like a family member, like a sister. She wished there could be so much more.
She walked into the room, fumbling with her nails and biting her cheek as she drew more attention then she would have liked. She did not want this night ruined; this was her night, her only night. If they found her she wouldn't know what to do. Girls watched her jealously as boys watched her longingly. Her cheeks grew a soft pink. Everything seems to come with a price. Should she have chosen to come to this dance appearing plain her one and only special night would have been ruined and she would not have that. Still, the attention is alarming, for if they came to take her away she would have to reveal her secret and that would cost her even more. For she would never be safe, being the only one of her kind in the area, she'd be caught so easily.
She avoided contact with anyone. Though she felt suffocated, claustrophobic, as if everyone was closing in on her, waiting to grab her. She refused to look anyone in the eye fearing they'd see the panic and know who she was. A fugitive in a way, though she has committed no crime. That does not seem to matter though. They'd take her anyways. It was too late to go back now. If she would flee from the ballroom she would surely be noticed for whom she has. Already these faces that watched her knew she did not belong amongst them. Never had they before seen her. It made it terribly difficult to reach him. She had to concentrate so very hard, she was sure it was apparent on her features.
"May I have this dance?"
Her voice was smooth as glass but the words left her mouth in a whisper. She was awfully shy and she blushed, as she knew he must have seen her lack of confidence. She couldn't stare in his eyes for very long, not only out of timid-ness, but she was afraid he'd recognize something in them. He stood to her great joy and she smiled shyly as he took her hand and led her to the dance floor. Her heart was beating erratically now as he wrapped his hand gently around her waist and clutched her hand firmly. She had never danced before and she silently prayed she wasn't the worst as they took off.
The song that they were waltzing to would be treasured forever in her heart; so lovely, so perfect for this moment. When he would spin her around she would get a whiff of his cologne and she'd almost lose her footing. After a while he stopped spinning her for he must have noticed her difficulties with balance. When he was caught slightly leaning in to smell her own perfume she would blush deeply but was still grateful she had chosen to wear the one that smelled like honeysuckle and pears. She plastered on a smile as best she could so as not to lead him to believe she was not enjoying the dance but she was so anxious that she was sure her smile was grim. It could be worse, she thought.
"I do not believe I have ever seen you around, do you attend Beauxbatons?"
He had spoken to her! Directly to her! Not through the other way of which she hated. She nodded, lying quickly, though realized her fault. She knew he knew she lied as he stared into her eyes for she hadn't the slightest French accent. In fact she probably didn't have a very strong British accent at all either for she rarely speaks if ever. As the song faded they stopped dancing. He was staring at her, in her eyes as he tried to make sense of her. Why would she lie? And she knew he would most likely figure it out if he truly wanted to. She was aware of his past achievements.
The music ceased and she slipped out of his grasp unwillingly. But she had to, for the stare was becoming unbearably suffocating. She had drawn too much attention to herself. She curtsied before heading straight for the giant doors of the Great Hall. Upon exiting she saw a pair of students really going at it. They were the boy's favourite companions. She hurriedly and as quietly as she could, rushed to stand behind a pillar in the other direction. She did not know what to do. She wasn't very familiar with these hallways and she needed to head back to the bathroom of which she came. The boy she'd been dancing with suddenly left the ballroom as well in a dazed fashion.
["Where have you been?" Hermione asked. Before he could answer she said: "Never mind! Off to bed the both of you!" She said to both Ron and Harry. Harry glared at her angrily before going up the stairs. Ron was waiting for him, angry himself.] The girl in white-silk looked up wide-eyed. She wondered what it would be like if she attended Hogwarts with them. And if she did, would she have the courage to talk to them? Though tonight was something different, a once occurring event. And as much as it saddened her she would never meet them again. Even if she could she wouldn't have the courage. Though, she must have some nerve for never letting the ones who wanted her get her, for not giving in nor giving up on herself, on her freedom.
["They get a bit scary when they're older," Ron said.
"Ron, you have spoiled everything!" Hermione yelled before falling on the stairs in a sob. She undid her shoes and threw them in front of her.] She cursed Hermione for still being in the way of her escape, though the sight saddened her. No one should be sad on a wondrous night like this. She wanted to reach out to her. Sit beside her and hold her. But she knew: Hermione was very smart. What if she started asking too many questions? What if she were alarmed by her presence? What if she told on her? And what if Hermione was grateful to her for her comfort and lets everything else go? She took one step forward, hesitantly. Is she worth the risk? Before she could do anything else, she felt a hand on her shoulder.
"Good evening, Miss Hartwood."
She stiffened as her breath caught. She had almost forgotten her name. To hear it again was startling. She closed her eyes and placed her hands on her upper arms as if to hold herself together. Her heart was hammering in her chest again. They had found her. She was going to be taken away. She knew it was a mistake to come tonight, to come as herself. After years of carefully avoiding it, she has now been caught. It goes to show how dangerous reckless behavior is. Now she'll have to face the reality she's been trying to escape, the grief she did not want to face. She turned around –the hand falling from her shoulder– and bowed her head in surrender.
"Professor Dumbledore."
She could not keep the strain out of her voice. Dumbledore turned around and started down the hall, wordlessly telling her to follow. Soon, the sounds from the Great Hall faded as they walked deeper into the castle. She thought of how she might escape this. She probably would not get far. He has a wand and she does not. When they had reached a statue he muttered a word and it began to move, revealing a hidden staircase. She stepped on to it after him and it began to spiral upwards. What if they were waiting for her in his office? Her lips quivered slightly and a single tear fell from the corner of her eye. Dumbledore handed her the most beautiful handkerchief and she clutched it tightly in her hand, dabbing at her face.
The staircase stopped and they walked onto the platform. She held her breath as he opened the door to his office. She felt a wave of relief to see that no one was there. Despite everything she was excited to see his office. It was quite fascinating. She wanted to know what each intriguing item that lay scattered around the office could do. He gestured for her to sit in the chair that sat across from his own. She hesitated, clutching the handkerchief to her chest. If she sat down she would have her back to the door, something very dangerous indeed. She learned quickly that the only way to survive is to be alert and ready, to never turn your back when it could render you defenseless. She finally sat down, feeling the air leave her puffy dress and looked over her shoulder once for reassurance.
"Cassia," he started. She couldn't look into his eyes, feeling a rising lump in her throat. She wound her arms around her torso as she felt nausea creep in. "My dear, you have a chance to be happy. Why do you run away from it?" He asked. She had to, but she could not explain it to him. She knew the reason yet it was known unconsciously, not willing to admit it to herself for fear of believing the truth. "You should be around people your age. I'm sure you'd make a wonderful witch, just like your mother," he said softly. Hot tears trickled down her chin. She hated that the paintings watched curiously and she wiped her face with the handkerchief that matched her ensemble.
"My parents," she started shakily, "are not dead," her voice cracked and ended in a high note. "I can't go to that place," she said as she cried even harder. "Please. I'd like to think they just went away on a long vacation. I don't mind this life. Harry takes care of me. He loves me," she blurted and sniffled when her nose began to run. She remembered how she provided the same favor in return when the summer came and Harry had no one but her to talk to. She always wished she could contribute to the conversation. What would he do if she never came back to him because she went with these people? He would be very sad and she would feel truly sorrowful if he replaced her. He wasn't so easily replaced. She loved him. "Please," she whispered.
"How do you think he would feel if he found out you were an unregistered animagus?" He asked kindly. She looked wide-eyed into his, realizing her mistake. She told him her secret. Or perhaps he knew all along. Snowy owls don't even live in London. And they aren't even as loud as she was sometimes. She suddenly wished she weren't the most beautiful owl. She averted her eyes from the deep blue spheres. A slight smile crept on her lips when she saw the beautiful phoenix called Fawkes. "Or running away from 'home'?" She was grateful to him for not saying the word that she could not bear to think of.
"Probably about the same way Ron felt when he found out Scabbers was," she said sorrowfully. She remembered how Peter Pettigrew betrayed Harry's parents to Lord Voldemort. She remembered how twelve years was a curiously long life for a rat. What if she outlived the years of a magic owl? Well, she thought, he wouldn't have to see me outlive the years for once I turn seventeen I am on my own. I won't need to go to that wretched place. "Professor," she was looking in his eyes now, her own pleading. "Is there no other way? Harry will be sad if I did … leave," she said in a rush. She had to find some way around it. She wasn't going but she doubted Dumbledore would let her stay. "Please, sir. I'd do anything!" She was begging now.
Dumbledore was already up and taking down the old tattered hat, which sat on a shelf, the Sorting hat. If she were an actual student she might have felt nervous but she felt more concerned as to why no one had busted in Dumbledore's office looking for her yet. Dumbledore came and stood before her and she sat still as he placed it on her head. After a few moments: "Hufflepuff!" A wave of happiness came and cheered her wounded heart. The same house as my parents, she thought as she grinned helplessly; though, faltered when she realized it was Harry's least favourite house. She didn't know why. It was the house for friendly, loyal and honest people. Though, the last she was not. She's been lying to everyone this long.
"I will teach you," Dumbledore said after putting back the hat. "I'll teach you everything from first year, that is, if you are willing to learn. And you can stay here," he said staring out the window absentmindedly. Before she could stop herself she had her arms around his waist in thanks and quietly sobbing. He placed his hand on the back of her head. "My child, there is no need to thank me. I should thank you for finally giving yourself a chance at a normal life." I'm going to Hogwarts, she thought. It's not perfect but I still got my wish. She sighed happily and smiled as she looked at Fawkes through her blurry vision.
She heard the door creak and she stiffened. Was it all a hoax to calm her down? Did Dumbledore set her up? She pulled away from him and ducked under his arm to hide. She peeked out behind as the door closed shut and she could see a tall figure draped in black robes. His black hair was long and greasy and his nose was too big for his face. And she knew, this must have been the dreaded Professor Snape that Harry despises so. He was exactly how she'd pictured him. His face showed no emotion as he advanced. He glanced at her, his eyes meeting her curious and yet fearful stare; question flicking through his eyes but his face revealing nothing more as if it weren't unusual.
"Headmaster–," Professor Snape started before Dumbledore interrupted.
"My dear," he addressed her but continued to stare at Professor Snape. "Why don't you run along upstairs? On the first landing, to your left is your room. Your things will be waiting there," he said. She was surprised. She did not own any personal belongs, apart from her cage. Her tension slipped when she realized Professor Snape had not come to take her away. As she passed Fawkes the phoenix she stroked him once with the back of her finger. Then with one more glance over her shoulder she walked up the stairs. Her hand gripped the beautiful banister and her fingers trailed along as she ascended. As promised a door stood to her left and she opened it eagerly with fierce curiosity.
"Severus–"
The rest was drowned as she shut the door. She was sure if she looked into a mirror her face would be etched with shock –or smeared with make-up. On the left wall were seven shelves, each full with books. Seven shelves and seven years, she thought. Underneath was a beautiful dresser with many drawers. On her right was a twin bed right up against the wall, the head where she stood. The comforter was a pastel yellow and the stitching black. At the foot of the bed was a trunk. Her own trunk! Straight ahead of her was a large window and below it laid a desk, the chair pulled in. She resisted the urge to squeal. She was going to be learning magic! And she wasn't going to that wretched place, ever! She felt the utmost gratitude towards Dumbledore. He did all this for her.
Directly to her left was another door and when she opened it she found a yellow themed bathroom with her own shower-tub and the bright yellow towels had black H's on them, for Hufflepuff. She watched her face glow in the mirror before her. Back on her bed laid two sets of flannel pajamas, one in yellow and the other in black. She was so excited and hurriedly undressed and pulled on the black one that had a yellow H on the left breast pocket. After hanging up her dress behind the door, placing her jewelry atop her dresser and washing her face she pulled down the first book from the shelf and sat at her desk cross-legged and barefoot. She would study hard but she wouldn't stop seeing Harry. He needed her; she was his little owl. His Hedwig.