DISCLAIMER: If I owned Harry Potter, I wouldn't be sitting here writing fanfiction. I would be sitting in a mansion somewhere writing fanfiction. So, clearly, Harry Potter is not mine.
A/N: Helloooooo! Plot's definitely picking up now, isn't it? Just you wait for this chapter. And the next . . . and the next . . . The end of the school year always seem to be very intense in the Harry Potter books, so why not here? Mwuhahahahahahaha!
Review and enjoy, marvelous readers!
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"It is with a grave heart that I make this announcement," said Dumbledore loudly. The Great Hall stared up at him, students tittering with nervousness. Cass and Harry glanced at each other, wondering what cover story the headmaster had concocted.
It was two mornings since that catastrophic night Cass mentally named "Doom's Night." It was a full day since saying good-bye to her grandparents. And time hadn't made either situation better (not that Cass had expected her feelings to magically get better overnight, but somehow it still hurt when they hadn't). Snape was still in the Hospital Wing, though he had been moved to a more secluded room behind Madam Pomfrey's office. Cass nursed a throbbing headache—a result of poor sleep and shattering visions—and from the looks of it, her brother was faring the same. His green eyes were clouded with exhaustion and worry. Next to him, Hermione and Ron swallowed worriedly, both their eyes glued to Dumbledore. Brooke sat to Cass's left, munching on a piece of bacon uneasily. Cass had explained part of last night's events, sticking with only Snape's involvement and his rescue. She hadn't mentioned the Order, or Harry, but she knew her friend was suspicious of what Cass had left out.
"Professor Snape has been injured in service to the school and to Wizarding Britain itself. Certain individuals do not wish me to tell you this, but considering Professor Snape taught at this school, to you students, I think it your right to know—"
"Headmaster Dumbledore!" interrupted Umbridge furiously. "The Ministry has forbade—"
"The Ministry does not regulate what I can and cannot say to my own students, Professor Umbridge," said Dumbledore calmly, but there was no mistaken the warning in his voice. "My students deserve to know why Professor Snape will not be teaching for the remainder of the year. It is one thing to keep them in the dark when threats arise outside this school, however it is quite another to do so when the threats have harmed their professor, a member of my own staff."
"You know who awaits you outside those doors, Headmaster," said Umbridge triumphantly. "Your words cannot stop them."
Beside Cass, Harry frowned, glancing at the closed doors of the Great Hall. Ripping her eyes away from the toad, Cass did the same, her mind already casting itself out in search of answers. None came. Cursing her gift for not working, she returned her attention to the staff's table, where she saw Umbridge about to take out her wand. Anxiously, she fingered her grandma's silver locket; what was going on?
"Do not make the mistake of thinking you can fire your wand here, Professor Umbridge, in front of my students. You will not endanger them," said Dumbledore, the barest look of anger on his face.
Whispers broke out in the Great Hall, students everywhere taking out their wands. Tension charged the air. Everyone could tell something was about to happen. The Hall doors shuddered, as if something outside pressed to come in, and everyone jumped. Brooke let out a startled, "Flipendo!" that knocked over a jug of orange juice, which Hermione distractedly spelled away. With similar expressions of "what now?" on their faces, Cass and Harry locked eyes.
"Do not fear, students, I will not let anyone in until I have spoken," said Dumbledore, shaking his head slightly at where Brooke sat. Cass resisted the urge to snicker as her friend's face turned tomato red. Now was certainly not the time. "It is imperative that you all hear these words. For your own safety, you can no longer believe the lies our own Ministry has spun."
"What the hell is he doing?" demanded Ron in a whisper. "He knows the Ministry won't stand for this—the lot of them refuse to believe You-Know-Who's back."
"Shh, Ron!" snapped Hermione. Cass nodded in agreement with her, wanting—needing—Ron to be quiet so she could listen to Dumbledore.
"Severus Snape worked as a spy for myself," announced Dumbledore. The Slytherin table perked up, perhaps the one House table not erupting into whispers. "He was to obtain information on You-Know-Who, so that myself and a few select others could work against the Dark Lord."
Someone from the crowd shouted, "Mad lunatic!" Cass winced as she noticed a Gryffindor shaking his head, scowling at the headmaster.
"Everyone, please, stay calm," said Dumbledore urgently, his eyes flicking from the shuddering doors to his students. "Two nights ago, Professor Snape was compromised, and I was barely able to rescue him. He is now in a secure location, which I will not disclose for obvious reasons."
"Enough!" shrieked Umbridge, apparently over whatever fear she had of Dumbledore. "Students, do not listen to this man! He will be apprehended momentarily—"
Suddenly, Umbridge cut off, her lips still moving to form words but no sound coming out. Cass tilted her head, puzzled, until she peered at the High Table and saw Professor Flitwick discreetly pointing his wand in Umbridge's direction. His face contained no hint of his spellwork, and Cass could almost say it wasn't him at all. But a feeling in her gut told her otherwise.
"Early this morning," continued Dumbledore, as if nothing had happened, "Professor Umbridge here met with a student who informed her of a clandestine club conducted here at Hogwarts."
Brooke dropped her bacon on her plate (had she seriously still been eating? Now?), and her eyes grew wide and frightened. Cass sucked in a gasp while Harry swore quietly under his breath. Over at the other House tables, students in the D.A. all glanced apprehensively at one another; Cass met Sarah's eye and saw her own worry reflected at her.
"This group, known as Dumbledore's Army, was instructed by myself to train as preparation against the inevitable attacks our world will soon face. Let me make myself clear to you all, and to you, Professor Umbridge: the students in this club are not to blame," said Dumbledore firmly.
Cass realized he was lying to protect them, throwing himself in the fire in the process. She blinked back an unexpected surge of guilt and listened on.
"It is for this reason, students, that they are Aurors just outside this room. The Ministry believes this club to be a weapon against them, and they are here to arrest me. I am sorry to all of you." Dumbledore sounded genuinely regretful, and Cass had to remind herself that, despite all his flaws, he was a headmaster at heart. A headmaster who loved his students. She glanced downwards, snuffing out the small bead of guilt in her stomach. Even if she deserved the guilt, now was not the time for it. Guilt could not help them. She noticed Harry had looked down at his hands, too, and a similar guilt to her own flashed in his eyes.
"I sweat to you all, no matter what the Ministry may say, I am not a weapon against the Ministry. The true threat is outside these walls. But even more worryingly, it is inside them as well. Be careful, students." Dumbledore didn't look at Umbridge, but it was obvious who he was referring to. Umbridge appeared livid, but clearly she wasn't bold enough to go against the most powerful wizard of all time. At least she isn't stupid, thought Cass, though she wondered a second later if things would be easier if she were.
Contrary to just moments before, the Hall was silent in the face of the news that Albus Dumbledore was leaving the school.
Looking at all the students, he addressed the entire Hall:
"Remember that help should always be given to those who ask for it. And, students, keep in mind that happiness can be found in even the darkest of places, if only one remembers to turn on the light."
Cass could hardly believe what was happening right then. There wasn't any room in her mind but shock—else she might have wondered why on Earth hadn't she Seen this coming?
"Minerva, Pomona, Filius—I leave them in your hands," murmured Dumbledore, almost too quietly for Cass's ears to pick up.
The doors thundered open, Aurors poured in. A cry of a phoenix resounded in the Great Hall, over the clamoring of the Ministry officials, and Dumbledore reached his arms up, catching the phoenix Fawkes between his hands. A flash of brilliant orange light, a wave of warmth, and Dumbledore was gone, leaving startled Aurors and students in his fiery wake.
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"Obviously, Dumbledore told us all that because he was going to get arrested anyway," prattled Hermione as she wrung her hands. "But what I'm curious to know—who told Umbridge?"
"Probably the Slytherin," said Ron darkly.
Classes had been cancelled for the day, due to the fact that Aurors currently scoured the school grounds searching for Dumbledore. All students had been told to wait in their dormitories while the "threat" was handled. Not even a minute had passed after Dumbledore's mysterious (and rather impressive) disappearance when Umbridge took up the mantle of headmastership and informed everyone a serious investigation would weed out whoever was in the D.A. She looked at Harry with that awful smile on her face that he hated so much, and it made him want to walk right on up to her and smack it right on off. Harry, Hermione, and Ron sat in the common room, keeping to a corner so they could talk without being overheard. Ginny, Fred, and George sat next to the three of them, each with a grim expression set on their face.
"Ron," said Harry tiredly, "it wasn't Cass's friend."
"Speaking of Cass, how did she not See this coming?" asked Ginny, picking at the carpet. The six of them sat on the floor, all the armchairs in the room taken.
"Reckon her Sight has gone wonky?" suggested Fred. "I mean, it would explain how we managed to prank her."
"Nah, could be we're just the best jokesters ever," said George, grinning to himself.
Harry glowered at them, mad they had taken advantage of Cass's temporary blindness to prank her. "You two can be right gits, you know that?"
Fred and George grinned.
"Protective much, Harry?"
"You act like she's your sister."
"Shut it, both of you," whispered Harry furiously. "Do you think everything's a joke?"
"Only funny things," admitted Fred with a shrug.
"Think this is funny, do you?" demanded Harry, temper rising.
"Boys!" scolded Hermione. "We can't fight amongst ourselves now. Also, don't worry, Harry. I put a charm around us—no one can hear us."
"Doesn't mean they should just go around blurting it out," pressed Harry, stubbornly not letting the matter drop.
"Just shut it, the lot of you," said Ginny in exasperation. "Focus on the disaster at hand."
"I'd actually rather not," muttered Ron. "It's a bit depressing."
"Dumbledore's gone, You-Know-Who knows about Cass and Harry, Dumbridge is in charge," listed Fred, using his fingers to count, "but Snape's gone. Not all is bad."
"He's not gone," corrected Hermione. "He's hidden in the Hospital Wing, remember?"
Fred scowled. "All is bad."
Hermione sighed.
"What do we do?" she wondered aloud, closing her eyes and tilting her head up slightly.
"We're safe inside Hogwarts," Harry reminded everyone, seeing the fear in his friends' eyes. "Cass will See anything coming—"
"But will she?" interrupted Ron. "She didn't See Dumbledore's attempted imprisonment, she didn't See Snape in time to keep the secret safe, she didn't even see the pumpkin pie exploding in her face! What if—"
"No, we can't think like that," said Harry firmly. "Just because it doesn't show her a couple things doesn't mean it's gone wonky. She didn't See the truth about our parents until December, remember? Her Sight obviously doesn't work at all times—she isn't omniscient. To quote her, 'it chooses for itself when to work.'"
Everyone nodded, but Harry could see they were still worried. And how could he blame them? Out of everyone, he himself was likely the most worried. A maniac wanted his sister because of her Sight, yet that same maniac wanted him dead. And the only wizard that maniac had ever feared just left Hogwarts, maybe for good. How in hell could he possibly get himself out of this one?
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Cass laid down on her bed, head propped up on her hand and dark hair spilling down her arm. As she stared at a blank parchment, she couldn't help but feel worthlessly guilty. If only she had Seen the student who tattled on the D.A. to Umbridge. If only she had Seen Snape's meeting with Voldemort before he went. If only she had Seen so many things. She had failed. As she sat idly doodling in her dormitory, she knew she had failed.
Even before Cass had known about witches and wizards and magic, she relied on her gift. Never once did it fail her—not when the tree branch cracked all those months ago, not when she saved Bello from falling off the Astronomy Tower, not even when she had found the truth about her and Harry. But these past few days, it had done nothing but fail her. Ever since the first vision of the Fléau de Lecteurs, Cass felt her gift had been malfunctioning, warped. Even the vision of Professor Snape in Voldemort's headquarters—wherever they were—had been messed up. She had been certain it was a vision of the present—she would've bet on it. For the first time, Cass wasn't just slightly irritated with her Sight for not giving her answers. She was doubtful of it, uncertain why it decided to work sometimes and not.
Cass didn't like doubts, and she afraid that her third-eye wouldn't take to them well either. What if it decides to stop working altogether? she thought fearfully.
"What's on your mind?" said Brooke suddenly, wrenching Cass from her thoughts.
"Hmm?"
"You haven't drawn anything in a solid ten minutes," said Brooke, gesturing to the parchment. "Which means you're thinking."
"Of course I'm thinking!" said Cass in disbelief. "Our headmaster just got kicked out of the school! The same headmaster that keeps Voldemort too afraid from attacking the school is gone! And my stupid Sight isn't working properly! And . . ." Cass huffed, shaking her head.
"And you're scared," stated Brooke, her usually hard eyes soft.
"Am not."
"You are."
"No, I'm not."
"Shut it, both of you," growled Pauline. "I can't hear myself think."
Brooke's face reddened.
"You know what, Pauline?" she snapped. "I'm so sick of this I-don't-care attitude of yours. Maybe, for once, considering the bloody war we're in right now, you can put down that stupid book, get off your arse, and start acting like you're at least concerned about the Dark Lord rampaging across Magical Britain!"
Cass gaped, her eyebrows raised in astonishment. Over in her bed, Pauline had a similar expression on her face, which lasted for about two seconds before melting into fury.
"You think you know me, Miller?" she demanded, leaping to her feet and storming over to Brooke. "You think I'm not scared of You-Know-Who? His Death Eaters murdered my entire family! The McKinnons—look it up! He's the reason I was raised in orphanages! Wizarding orphanages bloody suck, by the way. Not that you would know—from the way you talk and talk and talk, I know you were raised by both your parents. You knew your family. Mine were killed years after Voldemort died, because of an insult Aunt Marlene threw at an ex-follower of his."
Silence reigned in the room. Brooke, stubborn as an ox, kept her chin up and her expression hard. She didn't look uncomfortable in the slightest. Pauline glared at her, then at Cass (who was trying her best to be invisible), and then back at Brooke.
"I'm scared of him, Miller," she cut out bitterly. "I've been scared this entire year—finally, I get to Hogwarts, away from those God-awful orphanages, and it's the year a bloody lunatic comes back." Then, her face scrunched up with hurt, she added, "And my two roommates don't even think to include me in their secret little defense club. I see you two leave each week—I'm not blind. I can put two and two together. Did you ever think, maybe, that I deserved to be taught how to defend myself, too?"
"Pauline . . . I'm sorry," whispered Cass, mortified. "I'm really sorry. We should have asked you about the D.A. It's just, you rejected every attempt we"—Brooke coughed—"I made to connect with you. I had no idea you even believed the rumors about Voldemort, much less that you were scared of him. And I'm sorry for that." Cass laughed sourly. "Some Seer I am. Couldn't even See my own roommates' suffering."
"I didn't suffer," said Pauline, sitting back in her own bed with a slight, indignant frown on her face.r "I was, erm, slightly concerned."
Brooke rolled her eyes. On a whim, Cass got up from her own bed and sat down at the end of Pauline's. When the other girl didn't object, she made herself comfortable, propping up on the bedpost.
"You know," Cass said softly. "I'm terrified of him. I See him often—in my nightmares, in my visions. It's nothing to be ashamed of, fearing him. He's a powerful, evil maniac."
Pauline stared into her eyes, which Cass noticed for the first time were a fiery hazel. Her ginger box-braids fell like a curtain in front of her face.
Her eyes burning, Cass's vision slid into the past.
"What have you done to your hair, girl?!" screeched a strict-looking old woman at a young girl with box braids. "Traditional witches do not wear their hair like that—Muggle styles are beneath us."
"I'm not traditional," said the young girl defiantly.
The slap of a hand across her cheek made the Seer wince in sympathy.
Cass stared back at Pauline, hating whoever that woman from the vision was. "I think your braids are beautiful," she murmured to Pauline, who blinked and looked away with narrowed eyes.
The moment was interrupted with a loud, "Ha! I knew you were scared, Cass."
Cass closed her eyes, rubbing her temple with her hand. Pauline muttered, "Dingus," beside her which made Cass press her lips together to keep from laughing.
Cass's eyes pricked, and she braced herself before a heavy weight landed on her legs. Cass blinked at Brooke and marveled at how insensitive she could be sometimes.
"I'm still mad at you," Brooke informed Pauline, pointing her finger at her.
"I still think you're a hot-headed imbecile."
"I think you're too heavy to be sitting on my legs," wheezed Cass, poking Brooke to get her to move.
"Sorry," muttered Brooke, shifting to sit beside Cass rather than on top of her.
"Get off," said Pauline, gesturing to the floor. "This bed has barely enough room for two people."
"No," replied Brooke stubbornly.
Pauline sighed and banged her head on the headboard. She looked vulnerable, Cass decided, like her walls had finally been brought down and she was debating whether or not she liked it.
"You know what?" Cass said suddenly. "I'm tired of sitting in here. We have a free day—an entire day—and I'm certainly not spending it in my dormitory. How 'bout we go down to the common room? Maybe we can get in on a game of Exploding Snap."
"Yes!" Brooke exclaimed. "Merlin, I swear I was about to go mental sitting in here."
Pauline apparently debated with herself before saying, reluctantly and unhappily, "Fine. Whatever. I was done with my book anyway."
Cass beamed, happy the day had yielded one good thing.
But what would happen next? Over the past few days, it seems like a series of bad news upon bad news. It was unrelenting fear and dread and sadness.
How much more could she take?
A lot, thought Cass confidently. I'm stronger than I was five days ago.
But would it be enough?
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