Cassandra was at the top of the Astronomy Tower, her favourite place at Hogwarts, sitting with her back against a wall and Klaus perched on her shoulder. She liked the spot because it was quiet and secluded, the long and numerous flights of stairs leading up to it making it unlikely she would have any unwanted company. For the last thirty minutes, she'd been trying to focus on her Occlumency exercises, to no avail. Every attempt to empty her mind of cursory thoughts in order to erect her barriers ended with her mulling over the same question she'd been pondering for the past couple of months: What is going on?
Nearly two months had passed since Samhain, and from the night the Chamber of Secrets had allegedly been opened until now, two muggleborn students, one ghost and one cat had been found petrified at Hogwarts. Some days, Cassandra believed she could smell the cloying stench of fear wafting in the air. Most students were terror-stricken, and even her fellow Slytherins were subdued. Sure, there was still plenty of posturing and speculation about the identity of the heir going on in their common room, but the conversations were filled with tension like Cassandra had never seen before. Despite the disdainful attitude of most Slytherins towards muggles and muggleborns, less than a tenth of all Hogwarts students - more likely half that humber - could actually claim to be purebloods.
A little over a year ago, Cassandra wouldn't have been distressed by the news of an ancient evil attacking students of muggle heritage at Hogwarts. It wasn't her job to ensure the personal safety of her peers, and she didn't have to worry about being a potential target, since she was able to trace her lineage through millennia. Then, her only concern would've been Adrian, and it wouldn't have been too hard to make sure her half-blood friend didn't walk around the castle alone. But now she worried about Cedric, and Neville Longbottom who was practically a squib, and Cedric's stupid Hufflepuff friends who were so nice to her. She needed to know who and what was behind the attacks, so she could protect her people.
"You know," she had said to Cedric one afternoon while they dangled their feet in the waters of the Black Lake, enjoying a rare sunny November morning. "I would sleep much better at night if I was still apathetic towards everyone in this school."
"But you're not," Cedric had said smugly, looking up at her from where his head was resting on her lap.
"And whose fault is that?" She had replied, the annoyance in her tone almost convincing.
Cassandra was not afraid, but she did feel a great unease.
The unpleasant thoughts of Cedric getting hurt put her on edge. She tried to quell her concerns by reminding herself her boyfriend had two magical parents, which made him pureblood enough for most, but she didn't know what standards Slytherin's heir or his monster had for blood purity. She detested being in this state of constant anxiety. No matter how hard she tried to concentrate on something else, her mind strayed towards the message daubed on the wall during Samhain: 'Enemies of the Heir, beware.' She was.
She heard a bell ringing and got to her feet, hurried to her dorm room to pick up her trunk, then walked with Adrian to the crowded entrance hall. Panic was so widespread at Hogwarts, there had almost been a stampede to book seats on the Express so students could go home for the winter holidays. Outside, the horseless carriages that would take students to Hogsmead station stood waiting. Cassandra, Adrian, Cedric and his friend Mike Preece climbed into one of them, the door shut with a snap, and a few moments later, with a great lurch, the long procession of carriages was rumbling its way down the track toward Hogsmead station.
"Thanks for letting me come with you guys," Preece said.
"Of course," Cassandra said absent-mindedly. She was thinking about her cousin Draco, and his decision to stay at Hogwarts for Yule. He had been strutting around school with his chest puffed lately, taunting others about the attacks, but she didn't know if that was only because of his general smugness and the pureblood supremacist beliefs he parroted from his father, or if he knew something she didn't.
She jumped on her seat when she felt someone kicking her shin.
"We're here," Adrian said to her, opening the carriage door.
"Are you okay?" Cedric asked her quietly once they were in their train compartment.
"Yes. Just thinking," Cassandra replied. She grabbed his hand and put his arm around her shoulders, resting her head against his side, he kissed her temple.
"So… are we talking about it?" Adrian asked after a while.
"Must we, Adrian?" Cassandra sighed.
"Talking about what?" Preece asked.
"The Chamber of Secrets," Cedric said to his friend.
"Oh. It's really a terrible thing, what happened to Justin. And Colin Creevey, the boy from Gryffindor. And Nick and poor Mrs. Noris," Preece replied, somber. "Do you think… do you guys think it's Harry Potter? The heir?"
"I definitely do, Lestrange doesn't, Diggory declines to comment," Adrian answered.
"I'd rather not pass judgement without having all the facts," Cedric said. "It's not fair."
"Come on!" Adrian said. "He was found with the bodies in two of the three scenes, and he's a parselmouth. It has to be him."
"It doesn't make sense, Adrian," Cassandra said for what it felt like the hundredth time. "He's gone against the Dark Lord twice now, he runs around with a muggleborn girl and a Weasley, and I told you I've looked at his lineage and he's no more a descendant of Salazar Slytherin than you."
"And he's a Gryffindor," Cedric offered.
"Maybe he's a dark wizard playing the long game. Hiding in plain sight," Adrian insisted. "Maybe that's how he managed to defeat you-know-who back then."
"He was one year old," Cassandra replied, exasperated.
The debate went on until the train pulled into platform nine and three-quarters at King's Cross station, by the end of it, no one had been any more or less convinced of anything.
"I'll see you here on the 2nd," Cassandra said to Adrian. "Mimi will deliver your Yule present."
"Thank you," Adrian said, pretending he couldn't see his parents waiting for him. "I'll need something to look forward to."
"There he is - Adrian!" Mrs. Pucey called out.
"Two more years," Cassandra whispered.
Her friend closed his eyes, took a fortifying breath and walked over to his parents.
"Babe, is that your grandfather?" Cedric said.
Cassandra was about to say of course not, that her grandfather always sent Mimi to retrieve her from the station, when she saw Cygnus Black III was in fact there, standing besides Mr. and Mrs. Diggory.
"Huh. That's odd," she said.
"God, let's go before my dad can do too much damage," Cedric said.
"Grandfather, Mr. and Mrs. Diggory," Cassandra greeted the adults.
"Ced, my boy!" Mr. Diggory said happily, pulling his son in for a hug. Cedric hugged him back heartily.
Mrs. Diggory smiled at Cassandra warmly. "It's wonderful to see you, dear."
"You as well, Mrs. Diggory. Is everything alright, grandfather?"
"Yes, Cassandra. I had some free time. Nice to see you, Cedric. You look well," her grandfather said.
"Thank you, sir. Nice to see you as well," Cedric said, shaking hands with the older wizard.
"My granddaughter informed me you participated on your first Samhain ritual with her. How did you find it?"
Cedric pondered the question. "Edifying, sir."
"Yes, I should think so. I hope you understand what a privilege it is to be part of a Crossing Ritual. I, myself, have never attended one. We haven't had a talented enough runecaster in the family for almost two hundred years," the Black patriarch said.
"Sounds like a very impressive ritual. You'll have to tell us all about it on Christmas morning!" Mr. Diggory said to Cassandra.
"Christmas morning?" She asked.
"Oh, I'm sorry dear, we meant to ask you first, of course," Mrs. Diggory replied. "Your grandfather said your Yule celebration happens on the evening of the 24th, so I extended an invitation to the two of you to spend the 25th with us."
"I won't be available, but I told them you're welcome to accept it," her grandfather said.
Cassandra looked at Cedric, who seemed pleased by the idea. "Sure. I would love to."
"Wonderful! We'll be expecting you around…" said Mrs. Diggory.
"Eight?" Cassandra tried.
"Eight would be perfect," Mrs. Diggory smiled.
When she steadied herself after arriving home via sidelong apparition, Cassandra turned to her grandfather. "How much would you pay me to convince the Diggorys to never invite you to anything ever again?" She asked with a grin.
"Name your price," Cygnus said, serious.
Cassandra chuckled.
"I missed being home," she said, looking around the foyer. Mimi would most likely be in her quarters, waiting for her.
"A lot has happened. We need to talk, child," her grandfather said.
"About the Chamber of Secrets business?"
"About that, yes. Other things as well."
Cassandra sighed. "Can have these discussions after Yule? I understand they are most likely pressing matters, but I could use one day to just… be."
"Tomorrow after we burn the Yule Log, then."
She nodded.
"There is only one matter I can't postpone. You may go to your room now, but find me in the laboratory before dinner."
"I will," Cassandra said, kissing her grandfather on the cheek and running upstairs. "Mimi, I'm home!"
Later, after Mimi had bathed her - "Mistress Cassandra will let Mimi scrub the Hogwarts filth off her!" - brushed and braided her hair, and they had lied down face to face on Cassandra's bed so she could share with her house-elf all that had happened to her while she'd been away, the young witch made her way to the topmost floor of Lestrange Manor.
Cygnus' laboratory was cold and dimly-lit, jars of ingredients and bottled potions filled shelves upon shelves, and carefully preserved age-old tomes could be found organized by author on a bookcase in the back of the room. The wizard brewed silently and methodically, not once looking up from the potion he was stirring, even though he was aware of his granddaughter's presence at the door. Used to his circumspect demeanor, Cassandra walked up to his side and peered into the cauldron, taking in the scent of fresh tobacco and rust stemming from it.
"Mandrake restorative draught?"
"It should be done within the week," her grandfather said.
Cassandra leaned her hip against the mahogany wood workstation. Providing the school with the healing potion that would restore the victims of Slytherin's heir to their un-petrified state would buy them a lot of good will. "Are we offering it to Dumbledore?"
"I believe you were the one who placed an embargo on talks of such matters for the day," he said in a slightly condescending tone.
Cassandra stared patiently at her grandfather's profile, and did not give him the rude reply she would've given anyone else.
"What I have discovered about the ongoing situation at Hogwarts makes any possible involvement on our part complicated," said the wizard, gravely. "I will tell you everything tomorrow, and we will decide together how to proceed."
She nodded. "What did you want to discuss, then?"
Cygnus finally looked up from his cauldron, meeting his granddaughter's eyes. He crossed his arms in front of his torso, seemingly bracing himself. Whatever he had to say wasn't pleasant. Instinctively, Cassandra crossed her arms around her middle, mirroring his posture.
"In light of what we know is coming in the future, I have been looking to secure a few strategic alliances. I am acting under the assumption this next war will feature the same players as the last one, and knowing now the Dark Lord is not dead, that seems to be a safe bet. The last time… I was not a soldier like your parents were. I was a financier, and I expect the same will be requested of me the next time around. But we both know you won't be able to escape the conflict. So we must ensure you walk into it in the most secure position-"
While he spoke, the words of the prophecy echoed in Cassandra's mind. "Forced into battle, the war's greatest killer you'll become… Twice you'll lose your family, and twice you'll choose your targets in those you find responsible for the slaughter of your loved ones… Bound in a covenant, only death will undo the knot you join in."
"-and since werewolves tend to be quite mistrustful, when he suggested a meeting tonight, I accepted it."
"Did you just say werewolves?" Cassandra asked.
"The time for you to be qualmish has long passed, Cassandra," her grandfather said firmly, mistaking her confusion for reproach. "You know werewolves were part of the Dark Lord's ranks during the war. All manners of beasts were. Werewolves, giants, hags. Anything and anyone who had reason to resent the establishment was seen a potential recruit. What was to be done with them after the war was won, that was another matter. But we certainly wouldn't have done what this Ministry has, which is nothing. Letting them live on the outskirts of civilized society, poor, violent, resentful, without prospects or purpose. All creatures, especially the dark ones, must have a purpose if they are to be kept from indulging in their baser natures."
Suddenly, the pieces of the puzzle connected in her mind.
"You want their allegiance, the ones who survived. Greyback was never captured by the Ministry. You want them under our banner, so when the Dark Lord returns I have soldiers who'll fight for me. That's the purpose you want to give them."
"Yes, my child. If you must fight, you will not fight alone. I will see that you are protected."
"How do you plan to convince them to do that?" Cassandra asked, but she already knew the answer. "Wolfsbane potion. Money and wolfsbane potion. We'll supply them and get them used to a better life than they've ever enjoyed, and when the war breaks we'll convince them their best hope lies with us."
"With you. You are the last Black, Cassandra. Andromeda renounced the family the moment she married, and in an entirely different way, so did Narcissa. I tried my best to exert some measure of influence on Draco's upbringing, but my attempts were fruitless. He's as much a Malfoy as his father is, as his mother chose to become. But you are a Black. A much better one than I or your mother ever managed to be. When I first stepped foot in this house knowing I would be the one to raise you, I made a vow to not repeat the mistakes I made with my daughters. I vowed to Death itself I would not corrupt your mind with the unyielding notions that led the House of Black to self-destruction. Seeing the witch you're growing into, I have no doubt I did the right thing, and what we know of the future only reinforces my belief. It matters not to me which side you will choose to fight for, because I know that no matter the outcome of this war, you will be the one to shape the world after it."
Cassandra was struck speechless at the fervor in her grandfather's eyes and the conviction in his words. "Alright," she said after a while, her resolve to be what he believed she could be solidifying. "Give me the details of the meeting we're having tonight, then. If I am to do all of that, I should probably get started now."
A quarter before midnight, Cygnus and Cassandra stood together at the foyer of Lestrange Manor, ready to apparate. The werewolves had been unwilling to meet with them face to face, and would be sending a wizard to represent them instead, a trusted associate of the pack. Cassandra checked over her boots, her nondescript black robes, her wand in the back pocket of her trousers, the piece of leather that held her hair in a single braid ending right at her lower back, making sure everything was as it should be.
"You know what to do," Cygnus said to her. "He might be dismissive and belligerent, and make ridiculous demands we are not willing to meet. If that is the case, I will reinstate our terms and we will leave. Do not engage him. The thousand galleons and batch of wolfsbane potion I am taking will demonstrate how serious we are, and they will come back with more reasonable terms once the money runs out."
Cassandra nodded. She held on to her grandfather's arm and closed her eyes, reopening them only when she stopped feeling the unpleasant effects of side-along apparition.
They were on the third floor of a decommissioned electrical substation in Lancashire. The building occupied an entire block, and had been abandoned since the 60s. According to her grandfather, the location had been used by Death Eaters during the war. What had once been an oval, spacious meeting room now looked like an abandoned, burned-out shell, as if all the hate and anger of the wizards who'd once dwelled there had turned to fire and smoke and stained the windows and concrete walls forever black. The smell of dust was overwhelming, and there was no light except for the white glow of the full moon that leaked through the sheer plastic that covered the windows.
There was a loud pop, and a wizard appeared in the room ten meters to their left.
If Cassandra had to guess, she'd say the man was in his seventies, about the same age as her grandfather. He was short, with grey hair and tired eyes. He seemed to startle when he saw her. "Mr. Black. I- I thought the agreement was we'd meet alone."
"This is my granddaughter. The talk we are having tonight concerns her as much as it does me, Mr. Balfe."
"I- please, Jude is fine," the man said, his eyes fixed on Cassandra. "May-maybe we should reschedule. The pack does not take well to change in plans. She's just a girl, she shouldn't be here for this."
"Nonsense, we will get right to it. I have the money and the wolfsbane potion with me, as a sign of good faith. You tell the pack there is more from where this is coming from. I have business interests abroad that have need of men of their talents. Overseeing deliveries, collecting payments, nothing too complicated. It is a most simple arrangement."
"Right, well. That seems agreeable. You can hand it over and we'll leave at once, I have somewhere I need to be."
Cassandra watched the man closely. The night was cold and still a bead of sweat ran down his forehead. He kept glancing at her while addressing her grandfather. They'd been expecting the pack representative to be defiant, belligerent even, but the wizard seemed… nervous. She felt something going cold in her gut.
"Something's wrong," she whispered to her grandfather. Cygnus didn't hear her. "Something's wrong," she repeated loudly.
Both wizards turned to her with surprise, and Mr. Balfe started trembling.
"You have to understand, you weren't supposed to be here. It was supposed to be your grandfather, just him," the man said.
Right then, the piercing howl of a werewolf echoed through the concrete walls of the abandoned building. Multiple howls answered the first call.
"What did you do?!" Cygnus demanded loudly, pointing his wand at the other wizard while looking around, trying to ascertain where the howls were coming from.
"I'm sorry, I didn't have any choice. They have my grandson. G-Greyback said they would kill him if I didn't do this. You shouldn't have brought her here."
Cygnus grabbed Cassandra's arm roughly and tried to apparate them away, nothing happened.
"Bring it down!" Cygnus yelled, blasting the other wizard from where he stood. He hit a wall and crumpled to the ground. "Bring the anti-disapparition jinx down NOW! Do you have any idea who you're dealing with? I will end you!"
"I'm so sorry," the old man cried out at Cassandra, grabbing what looked like a spoon out of his pocket and disappearing into thin air. A portkey.
The sound of snarls and paws hitting concrete jerked them into action.
"They're in the building," Cygnus said. He grabbed Cassandra's arm roughly, bringing her out of the room with him. He was looking for the stairs. "You have to make it out, do you hear me? No matter what, you get out. I should have known. I should've-"
"No, I am not leaving. We'll fight-"
"It's a full moon, Cassandra. They'll kill you or they'll turn you. There are six floors in this building, and the howling seems to be coming from below." Cygnus finally found the emergency door, opening and locking it behind them with a spell, and they started running up the flights of stairs. "You escape. You escape and you survive, do you hear me?"
A loud booming noise interrupted him. Something was slamming against the door they had crossed less than a minute ago. A shiver ran down Cassandra's spine. They climbed the steps even faster. With another boom, the horrific form of a werewolf broke through the door and launched itself at them. Cygnus and Cassandra fired spells at the same time. The werewolf dodged the green light of the killing curse that flew from Cygnus' wand into the path of Cassandra's entrail-expelling curse. The beast cried out when its intestines plopped on the floor from the large vertical incision across its middle. Still, it took another step in their direction.
"Caro Inflamare!" Cassandra shouted, setting the injured werewolf on fire. Another beast emerged snarling from the place the door had been.
"Go! I'll hold them back!" Cygnus said, firing spells at the creature. Cassandra hesitated, and he yelled again. "I SAID GO NOW! THAT'S AN ORDER!"
Cassandra started running. The noises of her grandfather's battle echoed up the stairs but she didn't look back. 'I have to get out,' the witch repeated in her mind, holding her wand tightly in her clammy hand. 'I have to get out, I have to get out.' She heard a visceral human scream and started crying as she climbed three steps at a time, as fast as she could. Her grandfather was dead, or as good as.
At the top of the stairs there was a metal door, which she guessed led to the roof. Not wanting to risk it being locked, she blasted it open with an exploding charm. The explosion threw her back a couple of steps, but she caught herself on the handrail. Her ears were ringing. Suddenly, she felt a piercing pain in her ankle as her feet were taken from under her. Her face hit the edge of a step and she cried out, feeling something breaking. Her orbital bone, probably. Unable to see clearly through her fuzzy vision and the blood pouring down her brow, she started firing blasting spells aimlessly, but even as her assailant jerked back it wouldn't let go of her ankle. She tried a severing charm and finally broke free. She followed it with another string of exploding charms. Satisfied the beast was dead, she wiped the blood off her eyes and propped herself up, limping to the roof.
She limped in a circle, trying desperately to think of a way to escape the rooftop as the cold wind whipped at her. Even if the anti-disapparition jinx didn't extend to the roof, she couldn't risk apparating without badly splinching herself, and a fall through six floors would likely wound her badly enough to make her easy pickings for anything still inside the building. After tripping on something, she decided she couldn't delay checking out her injured ankle any longer. Attached to her leg was a severed furry arm. It looked like a bizarre stage prop. She wanted to laugh, and to cry. 'Not a bite,' she said to herself. 'Not a bite, you're not a werewolf. Just a fucking paw.' She bent down to dislodge the claws that had shredded skin and fat and muscle from her ankle with a small cry of pain, throwing it away.
When she stood back up, she found herself looking directly into the eyes of another werewolf. In a fraction of a second she registered the hungry look in its eyes, the fur matted with blood around its jaws and the bulge of its stomach, incongruous against its emaciated frame. The beast howled with the thrill of having its prey cornered.
Cassandra closed her eyes, thinking of everyone she might never see again, of her grandfather, her parents and Cedric and-
"MIMI!" She cried out.
With a crack, her house-elf appeared by her side. Mimi took in her Mistress' torn robes, her injuries and the werewolf lunging at them, grabbed Cassandra's hand and with a nauseating turn, they disapparated away.
As her world turned blurry Cassandra caught one last view of the rooftop of the abandoned electrical substation: of the door she'd blown open, and the trail of blood she'd left behind, and a blur of brown fur - take us home, Mimi… Please take us home... She felt the heavy weight of her legs, the throbbing pain in her left eye, the blood still running down her foot from the torn flesh of her ankle. Her head jerked back, as if she were being pulled in another direction from her long braid, and she focused on the safety of her room.
And then her body hit a soft surface, as if landing on a cloud. She opened her eyes and felt an immense relief when saw she was in her bed. "Mi-"
But Mimi's bulging blue eyes were staring at her with horror. No. Not at her, past her. The witch turned around and screamed when she saw the werewolf had come with them, and was currently laying disoriented behind her. That's what she'd felt tugging at her braid. Cassandra tried to back away from it but accidentally put her weight on her injured leg, falling from the bed onto the ground. The werewolf shook itself, focusing on her again and let out a monstrous snarl. Cassandra dragged herself back by her elbows, trying desperately to locate her wand. She saw it was on the bed, right under the werewolf's hindlegs.
The beast pounced at her.
Then Mimi shouted, "The filthy mutt will not harm Mimi's witch!"
There was a loud bang, and the beast was thrown off-course. In a flash, it hit a wall and then leveraged its weight to lunge again, this time in the house-elf's direction. Cassandra could only scream and watch, horrified, as the monster sank its fangs into Mimi's small body.
'NO!' Cassandra wanted to shout, but she didn't have any control over her voice. While the werewolf mindlessly ripped Mimi apart, she crawled towards the bed, reaching for her wand. Just before her fingers closed around it, the werewolf grabbed her, sinking its claws deeply into her flesh, between her right breast and her clavicle, then hurled her at the other side of the room. She felt her ribs breaking when her back hit a cabinet and screamed in pain once again. She laid on the ground, surrounded by broken glass, blood spurting from the deep gashes on her chest forming a puddle underneath her right shoulder.
She felt like prey. Like meat. She turned her head to the side and came face to face with Mimi's mangled body. A hot streak of tears ran down her face, and the pain she felt for the only creature that had loved and cared for her from the moment she'd come into the world eclipsed everything else. She shouldn't have called for Mimi, good and sweet and devoted Mimi. She should've fought for her life in that rooftop by herself. From the edge of her vision she saw the werewolf - her grandfather's killer, Mimi's killer - standing right above her, and all the sadness was burned out of her. All there was left was bright, burning hatred.
With a snarl, the beast brought its claws down. Cassandra rolled onto her side and the werewolf's paw smashed on the floor, its claws embedding deep in the wood, centimeters away from her head. The beast snarled again, this time with annoyance, and yanked its arm back trying to free itself.
Cassandra used the oportunity to close her hand around a shard of glass and bury it with all her strength into the beast's groin; the werewolf hunched forward with a yelp of pain and surprise. She grabbed another piece of glass and stabbed the creature in the face repeatedly, trying to slash its eyes, its snout, its ears, whatever she could reach. The glass was cutting her own hand down to the bone, but she didn't care. She was delirious with pain and blood loss. She felt her arm being slammed against the floor, and involuntarily let go of her makeshift weapon when her wrist was shattered. With her good leg, she kicked the werewolf in the crotch, right where she'd buried the first shard of glass. It backed off her and curled on the floor, crying out in pain, but she knew it'd recover quickly.
She looked around for another weapon. Her wand was still on her bed. If only she could get up and grab it. But her body was too weak to respond to that command. She racked her brain for any kind of defensive move, anything that her grandfather or Ivanovich had taught her that might help her, but to perform any spell she'd need her wand. She recalled all the hours she'd spent this year trying to accomplish wandless summoning, with no success. But she had never wanted anything as badly as she wanted her wand right then, as she wanted a tool to fight back, to get revenge for her grandfather and Mimi.
She visualized her wand in its familiar place on her right hand and poured all her magic, all the anger, grief and pain she was feeling into her summons. 'I need my wand. I need my wand, I need my wand, I NEED MY WAND. ACCIO WAND!'
It was like a volcanic eruption, like something breaking open inside of her and releasing liquid fire into her veins. Her wand was in her bloodied hand. She knew immediately how to end this. When the werewolf crouched on top of her again, opening its filthy jaw to bite her, she took her wand from where she'd been hiding it underneath her and pressed it against the beast's throat, channeling her magic and willpower in the same way she'd done previously to force the beast to transform back into its human form with a homorphus charm.
A haggard young man with a gaunt face and an unkempt beard looked down at Cassandra, naked and confused. They locked eyes, and just as he'd had enough time to register the power behind what the witch had done and tried to move away, she clasped her legs around his waist to keep him in place and drew her wand across his throat with a single word in her mind: 'Diffindo'.
The blood pulsed out as the man grabbed at his neck, but Cassandra wouldn't let him go. The two rolled over, her on top, holding him down. The position was intimate, in the dark they could've been mistaken for lovers. The man thrashed violently, making one more try for freedom and the two of them rolled back around, him on top of her again. There was blood everywhere - on the floor, on the walls, all over her. Cassandra kept her legs wrapped around the man until he gave one last heave and died on top of her. She smiled, crazed and satisfied.
She pushed him off her and started trying to prop herself up. When she finally managed to stand up, a piercing pain in her chest made her knees buckle. Her head was spinning and she couldn't breathe.
"Hux," Cassandra called out weakly, and the elderly house-elf that had been serving the Lestrange family for three generations appeared in front of her with a crack. "I-" she tried speaking, but coughed out blood instead. "Take me- Cedric's house- I need- It's in-"
She couldn't tell what happened after that. She kept trying to breath, but with every breath came a fresh wave of pain, and she was choking on her own blood. The last thing she remembered was Cedric's stricken face, pale as a ghost, and his arms around her right before her world went black.