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Queen Under the Lake

"You should tell me."

I glared at Blaise, who had said the very same thing at least a hundred times over the past three days. I knew he was right, too - but once more, I found myself in the kind of impossible situation that made it terrifying to tell him as well as to keep silent.
How was I supposed to tell him that you had put a part of your own soul in me? How to say that you had committed an atrocity, had done it seven times, had condemned me to certain death? How to say that I would ultimately have to die?

"I don't know how," I said. "And I honestly don't want to think about it."

"Then leave some of that burden on my shoulders," Blaise said. "It'll do you good."

I shook my head. Even if I brought myself to tell him - which former experience suggested I would, he had a knack for getting these things out of me - this was hardly the time and place for a vomit-inducing topic like that.
As it was, we were on the fourth floor, it was close to midnight and we were waiting for Ginny Weasley to show up with the paint we needed.

Ginny herself called it a 'New Year's prank', Longbottom insisted it was a 'happening' - either way, recruiting messages were painted on the walls all over the school that night.
It was crazy difficult to get everyone through the school safe - Ginny insisted that Potter once had a map that would have been very helpful, but as it was, Harry was gone and had taken the trinket with him. So I had to rely on my knowledge about the way the prefects patrolled the corridors to sent people to the right spots at the right time, which required both precision and incredible luck.

"She ought to be here by now," Blaise said.

"You try making your way from seventh floor to the fourth in two minutes." Ginny put down one of the containers that she carried, making both me and Blaise flinch with the clang echoing through the hallway. The paint shimmered in a bright red. "I got those from Fred and George," Ginny said when she saw my gaze. "They say Filch is going to shrub for weeks before this comes off."

"I'm sold," I said. "And tell your brothers they're truly brilliant."

It took about ten minutes until we were done and could step back to admire our work: bright red letters that shone even in the dim light produced by our wands.
WE WANT YOU - FOR DUMBLEDORE'S ARMY!

"Not very British," I said. "But I suppose it's good enough."

The original plan had been to bring the paint back to the Room of Requirement, but we were already so late that it seemed unsafe - past midnight was a time that not even prefects patrolled anymore and the only one about would be Mrs Norris.
Blaise proclaimed that he would, indeed, take the risk if I thought it necessary, but I was honestly happy to go straight back. At this hour of the night, I was dead tired and ready to fall into my bed.

As it happened, my bed did not see me quite as soon as I had wished for it. The common room was packed, which was especially striking at this late an hour.

"Oh Cassie, thank Merlin!"
Daphne Greengrass hurried forward, grabbed me by the arm and pulled me along. I dropped the paint, but could not turn to see whether it spilled or not.
"It's my sister."

There she was: Astoria Greengrass, pale as death, rocking back and forth as she sat on the couch, her friends from fifth year gathered around her. Daphne knelt down in front of her, but she did not react, only adjusted her rhythm as to not hit her sister.

"She was out after hours and the Carrows caught her..."

"Cruciatus?" I asked, though it was hardly a question.

Daphne's eyes filled with tears and she flung herself into Pansy's arms. While the other girl patted her back, Draco stepped forward and sat down next to Astoria on the couch. He frowned deeply as he reached out and Astoria flinched away from him.

"It was Crabbe and Goyle," he said. "You know how they enjoy it..."

"But that's my sister!" Daphne howled. "She's one of us!"

Draco opened his mouth, but closed it without accomplishing anything. Honestly, I understood how he felt. There was not a whole lot to say about this, except that it was wrong, terribly wrong and that it never should have happened.
The thought that Vince and Greg had done this - it made my hands shake with anger. How dare they turn their wands against a fellow Slytherin? Had I not made myself clear before? Did they not have enough decency to know better by themselves?

"All right. You two," I gestured to two of Astoria's friends who had backed away slightly when I had arrived. "Take her to Madam Pomfrey. If someone stops you, say you're on your way by my orders."

They nodded frantically. Astoria flinched again when they touched her, but they managed to heave her up to her feet. The crowd parted when they made their way through the common room and over the paint that had, indeed, spilled all over the floor.
A dreadful silence fell over the room as the door closed behind them, broken only by Daphne's continued sobbing.

"The rest of you listen to me," I said. "This was it. None of you will raise your wand against another student, not against a fellow Slytherin, nor against anyone else. You won't do it by the Carrows' orders, most certainly not by Filch's and if I catch any of you doing it just so, rest assured that I will let my displeasure be known."

Daphne, her eyes red and puffy, sat up from where she leant against Pansy. Draco shifted uncomfortably and Theo did not look at me. Only Blaise looked mildly pleased.
When I looked at the younger students, though, the look I got was mostly one of relief. It was this, which ultimately assured me that I was on the absolute right track.

"It's my word that counts now," I said. "If anyone asks you to do differently, you tell them the Dark Lord's daughter said otherwise. We're not a part of this. We're Slytherins and that means we don't bow to anyone. And it means hat we are better than this, a lot better."

Draco let out a humourless laugh. "The Dark Lord-"

"Would certainly agree with my assessment," I said loudly. "And if he doesn't, then I don't care to know."

An awed sort of mutter crossed through the room.
Here is something that I had realized after Christmas: I was safe. You might torture me - though honestly, what was the point? - but you could never kill me. I was one of your failsafes, I carried a part of your soul and it made me untouchable.
I wondered when you realized that this had been a terrible mistake. Did you only know when it was already too late or did you ever see it coming? For such a clever mind, you were sometimes extraordinarily blind.

"And Crabbe and Goyle?" Daphne asked. "What about them?"

I squared my shoulders. "They," I said. "Don't belong to us anymore. You go ahead and make sure they know."

They did. Daphne hexed Goyle, and his nose grew until it was the only part of his face that could be seen. Younger students, who had apparently been forced to do the pair's homework, now squared their shoulders and told them 'Cassie forbid it!'. I was proudest of Theo's work, though, who caught Crabbe using the Cruciatus on yet another student and magically sewed his mouth shut. It took Madam Pomfrey half the night to fix it.

I seemed to have struck a nerve throughout. The Carrows were now finding it hard to find willing torturers and had to do their own work, which of course did not make things any more pleasant. They did not dare target my classmates, of course - if because they did not want to roughen up purebloods or because they were a bit afraid, I could not say. I hoped for the latter, though. They ought to have been.

"You know," Blaise told me, about two weeks after the incident when we waited outside the Transfiguration classroom. Early as we were, no one else had arrived yet. "A year ago, I wouldn't have believed to see you like that."

"A lot's changed since then," I said.

He shrugged. "You were afraid he'd kill us all back then, you included," he said. "Did he get more docile?"

I shook my head. Look, I am not stupid. I knew exactly what Blaise was doing - he was trying to lure the truth out of me again.
He was watching me closely, and when I did not answer, he let out an exaggerated sigh.

"If he finds out what you said then," Blaise continued. "He's definitely going to kill you."

"He can't."

Blaise's eyebrows rose so high they almost met his hairline. "Look, if you think that sentimentality-"

"I don't think that," I said and stared firmly out of the window. The snow was melting and the first flowers bravely made their way above ground. "He can't kill me because... Blaise, he did something terrible."

His bag hit the ground and he stepped closer, but I did not turn to look at him. Now that I had started, I would have to go through with telling him, but I felt a lot better not having to look him in the face during it.

"He created... He wanted to be immortal. He created something called Horcruxes."

"Hor- what?"

"Horcruxes. It's a piece of your soul, separated and stored in a vessel," I explained. "It's... gruesome. No matter what you imagine, it's a hundred times worse. He made seven of them."

When Blaise did not speak for a good minute, I finally chanced a glance in his direction. He was not looking at me. In fact, just like I had, he was staring outside, perhaps watching as Hagrid wandered out of the forest.

"One of those vessels," Blaise said when he noticed my glance. "Is you, right?"

My teeth dug painfully into my lower lip as I nodded. Yes, I was one of those vessels. Every heartbeat of mine kept you alive.
Blaise leant his forehead against the certainly ice-cold window. Every fiber of me longed to reach out and see what he was thinking - just a little peak, I told myself, would it really matter? - but it did matter and I did not do it for fear of upsetting him when he noticed.

"So if we're ever to be free of him," Blaise asked, his voice more heavy than it usually was. "You have to-"

"Die?" I finished when he broke off. "Yes, certainly." And in an effort to console either him or me, I could not be too sure if it was one or both, I added. "At least I get to be a hero, huh? You'll get to sing heroic lays about me and everything."

It almost worked. Blaise snorted, the sound as close to a laugh as was possible in this situation. I even smiled slightly when he turned to face me.
Look, I wanted to be nonchalant about this. You had condemned me, but I refused to live my life overshadowed by this fact. I would fight as if I would be there to see the result. I wanted to smile and laugh and I certainly did not want to see Blaise as miserable as he was now.

"I'd rather you be there to sing them yourself."

"I'll make up some terrible rhymes up front, it'll be just the same," I said.

By now, the first of our classmates had arrived. Blaise looked like he wanted to say more, but he did not get to; Daphne put her bag down right in front of me and started chattering about the Charms essay we would have to hand in on Friday. While I assured her that, yes, she was quite right in her description of the Sonorus charm, my gaze met with Blaise's over her shoulder.
I smiled again, but he did not return it. In fact, it seemed he was so deep in thought that he saw right through me.

McGonagall had us practicing conjuring for the third week in a row. Most students were now able to at least produce something, though it was rarely the intended object. I got it mostly right by now, though I was struggling a bit with larger mammals, as was to be expected. Inanimate object were a piece of cake, though.

Terry Boot from Ravenclaw had just conjured a vicious tortoise that was half alive and half porcelain when Blaise leant over to me and whispered to me.

"Have you ever thought," he asked. "To make one yourself?"

I turned my head slightly to look at him without Professor McGonagall noticing our conversation. "Have you gone mad?"

He shook his head. "Think about it - if you had one yourself... you could die - but then you wouldn't."

I stared at him, certain that he had, indeed, lost his mind - because how could I possibly do it? Kill someone, drink their blood, rip my soul apart?
But as I laid in my bed that night and stared at the green ceiling, I could not help but thinking: he did have a point.

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