EDITED: November 8th, 2020.

WARNING: This story contains mentions of emotional abuse, violence, and strong language.


Prologue


February 25th, 1979. St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

There was something about hospitals that was equally comforting and foreboding. St. Mungo's Hospital For Magical Maladies and Injuries was not the exception. Unlike muggle institutions, it tried to match its appearance to the typical wizarding home. However, there was no denying the muggles were clearly advanced when it came to health care despite their lacking advances in the medical field. In this instance, St. Mungo's tried its best to mimic that service and so far this new system seemed to make everything and everyone more efficient. Even the patients, regardless of their personal and insular notions, had yet to find a warranted complaint.

And it was precisely thiswhich made St. Mungo's a sanctuary. A middle ground, per say, where no one was judged. Because a Healer's oath was the absolute commandment: "I will not break my patients' trust nor will I knowingly endanger the world." Here, every witch, wizard and magical creature were equals.

Despite knowing this—truly, having it hammered in her head since she was a child—it did not stop Cassiopeia Black from speaking with the diener in charge of... of the situation at hand.

Healer Jacob Andrews happened to be muggleborn. In fact, he was highly recommended by Thea Rosenberg, which was a feat in itself. Hardly anyone or anything impressed Thea these days, but Andrews had left a lasting impression. A good one, so far.

It made Cassiopeia wonder if this was the divine punishment Mother always spoke of. Because it couldn't be a coincidence today, of all days, Andrews was in charge of the morgue.

"Miss Black—"

"Barton. Cassie Barton." The sound of this name was foreign to her tongue and it seemed Andrews noticed too, if his frown was to be judged. Then again, it could be the fact that she requested he closed the wing in its entirety, no exceptions allowed. Or the fact that she also requested Healers Parkinson and Fawley were to be banned for 24 hours from the institution.

"Mrs. Barton," he said slowly, "I will act like this conversation did not happen."

She reached into her purse and pulled out a galleon. She played with it the way James taught her, her gaze locked with Andrews'.

"One hundred galleons, Healer Andrews."

He hardly reacted, much to her consternation. "Your contribution to St. Mungo's would be lovely if it weren't for the attached deal. The answer is still no."

"You know the identities of the people on those slabs. I know the identities of the wizards who put them there. Parkinson was a close coordinator of Thea's despite her complaints of his ineptitude and Fawley's... relations have proved to have had a hand in this misfortune. I will offer whatever you wish, follow whatever request you see fitting of this deal, as long as none of the victims are insulted while on their path to the afterlife."

It was a simplified version of the truth, but how else could Cassiopeia explain years of planning, years of friendship, in the span of three minutes? How could she tell this man—a stranger at that—of the McKinnons' terrible destiny being nothing but a side issue of a decision taken by a basically illegal organization? How could she tell Andrews that Thea Rosenberg had doomed her own best friend just because she existed?

There was one thing she could tell him though.

"Thea Rosenberg's friends will barge in any second now. They will mourn her, as people are wont to do—but the moment they realize who is here, they will do anything in their power to detain them, regardless of the aftermath." She leant closer. "People will die. It won't be because of them."

It had happened before, when they were in their last year at Hogwarts. Sirius had gotten into a brawl just because the other bloke rubbed him wrong. The idiot hadn't realized who it had been—the position the man had recently acquired—and all of them had to watch as the consequences hit them one by one: Remus having a literal heart attack when news of his destroyed home reached him; Peter's mom leaving the country because she had been threatened at the Ministry; one of the Potter factories blowing up because of an "accidental" misuse of magic. The Marauders may not have been hurt physically, but the emotional distress had sent them too far. Had made them accept Dumbledore's recent proposal of joining his so-called Order of the Phoenix.

And Cassie, powerless, couldn't do anything but watch as they marched into their deaths.

•••◘◘◘•••

Frankly speaking, Cassiopeia Black had not been raised to fight a war. She hardly came to danger since she left Hogwarts and this was mostly because she was smart enough to know when to pick her fights. The same could not be said about her twin.

Sirius Black was brash as he was ruthless, bullheaded as he was cunning. He denied it, but everyone could see how much of a Black he was. And that was the thing, wasn't it? Because Cassiopeia could be the living portrait of the perfect Black, but she was anything but. She wasn't as chivalrous as Sirius, or as cunning as Regulus, their younger brother. She wasn't as bold as cousin Bellatrix, who all but pranced into Grimmauld Place with the mark of a snake on her arm and prophesying about the Purebloods' savior, or as brave as Bella's older sister, who denied her heritage for true love.

No, no one knew what Cassiopeia Black was made of. And no one would ever do. Because the insecure girl had died the moment she accepted Alec Barton's marriage proposal.

People still referred to her as her maiden name, but it was obvious Cassie Barton was a different sort of woman. One who knew which buttons to push, which information should be shared. Everything—from the way she moved and dressed to the way she spoke—had an underlying purpose.

Sometimes she wondered if it was the right sort of person to become. Because as much as she had struggled to escape her previous self, this felt too much like a cage. And there was no excuse for her; she had been warned this was the life she would be getting into. Alec Barton had never lied to her—he actively tried to keep her at his level, treat her as his equal.

But this was the sort of man the world thirsted for. His knowledge, his drive—the world demanded he be theirs. Its people beseeched that he solve all their problems, defeat this Voldemort who had risen from nowhere. An impossible request for an impossible man.

Here they were now. With an entire family massacred and Alec's cousin nothing but a crisp corpse, just a few meters away.

Cassie slowed, hearing raised voices. She braced herself for what would come.

"Padfoot, I don't think you should —"

"Shut up, James!"

Her best men were there. James Potter always looked like he'd stepped out of a modelling catalogue, and today was no exception despite the circumstances. Her brother though... he looked like a raving lunatic that would jump on James if he so much as breathed the wrong way.

"Sirius," she called, quickening her gait. The sound of her heels drew both men's attention; James slackened in relief but Sirius continued heaving, his eyes wild. He usually looked like that, but the feral stance screamed danger.

It wasn't just their personalities that differed. The Black twins didn't look much alike now that they were older. Cassie's hair had lightened over the years while Sirius' complexion had darkened. He, being a man, had grown hawkishly tall, while she, being a woman, had grown in all the right places except height. Nowadays their resemblance lay in their gaze. Only three members of the Black family had such silver eyes.

In this moment, Sirius' eyes were anything but gray. They were dark with grief, two unfathomable pools of rage.

There were two choices here: they could let him rage here in St. Mungo's, where he could be knocked out the proper way. Or let him hold it all in, until it burst in the worst possible moment and got him and anyone near him killed.

Her brother suddenly laughed, the fight leaving him. The tiny hairs on her arms rose; the silent warning had her clutching her wand.

"Cass," he said. "Cass, dear, tell Prongs here he's being an arse. How can he joke like that, and in this place!"

James ran both hands through his hair, messing it further. He must have been the one to tell him the news then. And his clothes–Merlin, he must have been at the scene. If she was right... Cassiopeia couldn't fathom his calmness. Next to Sirius, James Potter was the most emotional of their group.

Then again, James had been the strong one when Sirius had left Grimmauld Place. He'd also been the strong one when Fleamont and Euphemia Potter were dying and when Cassiopeia had panicked an hour before her wedding. Like Alec, James was a natural leader–it'd just taken him a long time to realize his influence.

"Sirius," she repeated. Her voice broke a little. She scratched her eyebrow, wincing at the cold metal of her wedding band. "Can you sit down? Please." Stiffer than a corpse, he moved to the closest bench and sat down on it.

He regarded them both with the coldest of gazes. As a predator would its prey.

But Cassiopeia knew he was better than that. Knew he would never consciously hurt her, not after a lifetime of Mother beating them into her desired shape. And as she knelt before him, she could suddenly see him as that twelve-year-old boy again—small and hurt, ready to jump at the merest hint of danger.

She cupped his handsome face with both hands and looked into his shining eyes. Under her fingers, she felt the slight bump of the scar Mother's ring had left after slapping him for his Sorting. No doubt he could feel the scars over her fingers, leftovers of Mother's idealization that she, Cassiopeia, was at fault for leading her brother stray. Because apparently, breaking her fingers six different times and healing them just to do it again would solve the fact that young Cassiopeia was weak.

But the pain hadn't mattered back then, not when she had a crying brother and the other scared out of his wits. In fact, she couldn't even remember if it had hurt that much when she knelt before Sirius and listened to his rant. Had her arms ached when Regulus clung to her fiercely? Not really. Not when he believed her as blindly as he had.

Sirius had never been like that with her. Twins they were, but he had chosen James Potter over her, leaving her and Regulus to deal with his mess. And when the time came, she had chosen Alec over him too, full of grief and rage over Regulus' death.

He looked at her like she was a stranger.

She figured that, if Sirius knew the extent of her choices, he would understand. The truths behind the Barton family were not to be trifled with. But years of love and duty gentled her; she tilted his head so he had no choice but look at her straight in the eye, and told him this one truth.

Cassie couldn't quite describe the sound that escaped her brother. It was mournful and full of longing and pain; it didn't sound humane at all and she could taste the promise of revenge in it.

"She promised," he whimpered. "She said she wouldn't leave me–she promised!"

He pushed her, rocking her in her place. Then he ran away, going all the way to the double doors that guarded Thea Rosenberg's corpse.

The moment Sirius disappeared, James' energy died. Running a hand down his face, he took Sirius' previous place; holding his head, he leaned forward so that he was looking directly at the floor.

Cassiopeia, tired, crawled next to him. She didn't have to wait long for him to talk. Seasoned to his ticks, she barely reacted when he sprung up violently, hitting the wall with his head. James himself didn't notice; he was sprouting word after word, tears running down his cheeks.

"No survivors. No. Fucking. Survivors! All of them, they–they burned. Marlene, Jemma and Isaac–Merlin, they were children! They were supposed to go to Hogwarts and learn and play Quidditch an –and–" He gagged. "I think I'm gonna be sick."

Cassiopeia swiftly Accioed a potted plant from the corner of the hallway. Just in time, as James simply seized it and spilled out his dinner.

"I'm so sorry, James."

"Burned alive," James said hollowly. "Gone–just like that. Lily was supposed to meet Marlie this weekend and Nat–" He closed his eyes. "Nat wanted to see me and Padfoot today, but he and Moony were at it again..."

"I heard about their fight," Cassie murmured. "Was it really as bad as Alec made it out to be?" She couldn't picture Thea and Sirius fighting–despite her initial reservations, the young woman was more than a match for Sirius; they balanced each other well. The way they tried to make their relationship work, despite their opposite personalities, made one believe true love existed.

James covered his mouth, contemplating. "I don't know. I don't think anyone but them knew. It doesn't feel real–none of this feels right." He looked at her hopelessly. "Is it wrong, thinking I'll see her this Sunday for a drink, just like always?"

"No, James," she said gently, "there is nothing wrong with that." She looked around, expecting to see more familiar faces. "Where's Remus? And Peter–did someone tell them?"

James shook his head. Cassiopeia studied him for a beat before leaning forward and sweeping his hair aside; James closed his eyes at the touch and did not open them when Cassiopeia stood.

"I'll take over from here," she said and turned. Green eyes stared her down; Cassiopeia hardly stopped. Lily Potter cradled herself like a child with bloodshot eyes, and Cassiopeia thought the young woman would say something as she drew closer, but the redhead did not demand answers. Lily had loved Thea as much as James had.

"I'll take over," Cassiopeia repeated.

She watched the redhead join her husband. Like Lily, she couldn't muster an ounce of animosity; heaviness had settled over her shoulders, as well as the grim sense of purpose.

This was what she was good at. Compartmentalizing. She did not care about Thea as much as all her friends did, as Alec and James and Sirius did, but she still loved her enough to make sure that her farewell went without a hitch.

Cassie wondered if James and Alec had felt this way when they lost their parents. If they had known they would lose that part of themselves that had relied so much in these people.

She also wondered if the feeling of helplessness would ever go away... and how many times she would have to take care of everything in the future.