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Cass watched as Harry climbed into the Gryffindor common room. He looked dazed and was blushing. She snorted loudly, drawing the attention of Hermione and Ron, who were waiting with her in some plush armchairs.

"Harry?" said Hermione as he sank into an armchair next to Cass.

"How did it go?" Cass asked earnestly.

Harry did a little double take. "How—what…? How did you…Oi! Of course you would know about it!"

Cass pressed her lips together firmly to keep from laughing; she didn't want to make Harry feel bad. In truth, though, it was quite funny.

"Naturally," she said. "Well?"

"What are you going on about?" Ron asked.

Cass looked at Harry; she wasn't going to tell Ron or Hermione—it was up to Harry if he wanted to tell his friends. Harry's face flushed red, and Cass buried her face in the crook of her arm, which was resting on the arms of the chair. It was really difficult not to laugh.

"I kissed her," Harry whispered, cheeks flaming.

"Cho?" Hermione clarified.

Harry nodded.

"HA!" Ron made a victorious gesture with his fist and went into a raucous fit of laughter, rolling around on the hearthrug as he did so. Harry's face reluctantly spread into a grin, but Cass and Hermione exchanged faintly disgusted looks.

"Well, how was it?" Ron said, giving Harry his complete attention.

"She was crying, so…I dunno what happened, exactly. She just sort of leaned in, and—er—I just…" Harry trailed off, looking miserable.

"She was crying?" Cass asked.

"How bad at kissing can you be?" Ron asked, shaking his head.

"Ron!" Cass and Hermione scolded in unison.

"I'm sure it wasn't Harry's kissing," said Cass.

"It wasn't anything he did," added Hermione.

Harry and Ron were looking at them curiously. "How do you know?" Ron asked in a sharp tone.

"Cho spends most her time crying," Hermione said. Cass wondered how anyone could be upset kissing, but then again, she didn't know much about the subject. The thought didn't sit well with her; she liked to be very informed in all matters. That thought made her blush.

"You'd think some snogging would cheer her up," Ron said, grinning roguishly.

"Ron," Hermione said in a very dignified voice, "you are the most uncaring wart I have ever met."

Cass sniggered at Ron's confused and indignant expression. "I've seen Cho crying in the loos often enough. She's obviously going through something."

"Right, well, Cass, you don't know this, but Cho was Cedric Diggory's girlfriend," Hermione informed.

"Oh," Cass sighed. Harry had told her about Diggory and the graveyard. What a fine mess of emotions Cho must have, Cass realized. Liking the boy who was with your boyfriend when he was murdered…Cass suddenly felt awful for the girl.

"What do you mean 'oh?' You say that like it clears everything up!" Ron said, looking utterly bewildered.

Harry looked at Cass desperately, as if he hoped she had an answer. Cass felt her heart clench; he was looking to her for sisterly advice! Well, that would make sense, as I am his…sister. Cass pushed the familiar disbelief away—it was really quite time she got over that—and said, "Well, obviously, she'll be feeling depressed about Cedric's death. And then very guilty, thinking it's an insult to Cedric's memory to be kissing Harry. And then confused as to whether she even wants to kiss Harry, you know, 'cause you're not that popular right now…just saying…"

"Right, and she probably can't work out what she feels for Harry, because he was there when Cedric was killed, so that's all jumbled up and painful," Hermione put in. "Oh, and she's worried she'll be kicked off the Ravenclaw Quidditch team because she's been flying so badly these days."

"That doesn't make a lick of sense," said Ron hopelessly.

"Of course it does," said Cass. "It makes complete sense."

Harry's eyebrows were furrowed, as though he had just listened to Cass and Hermione speak ancient Greek.

"Look, Harry, it's not your fault she was crying. It's not hers, either. It's just…a bad situation," Cass said consolingly. "Did you comfort her?"

"Well, I sort of—erm—patted her on the back," Harry said unsurely.

"That's good," Cass said. Enough, she added silently. She and Hermione exchanged exasperated looks; were all boys this helpless?

"So…is it going anywhere?" Cass asked Harry.

Harry opened his mouth, closed it, and shook his head. "I don't know," he said. "Let's talk about the wandless magic you did today. Brilliant work!"

Cass was certain he was only trying to change the subject, but she embraced the new conversation topic for his sake. "Thanks. I didn't expect it to actually work…it scared me."

"Scared me, too," Ron said. "It just came out of nowhere."

"That was a good idea, Cass—to learn wandless magic, I mean," said Hermione.

"Eh, I just thought it would be wicked to be able to cast with only your hands," Cass replied. Something occurred to her then. "Wait, Hermione…how do they trace your magic when you're away from school?"

"Your wand, I think…Cass, you can't! It's illegal!" Hermione said, understanding what Cass was saying.

"What?" Ron asked.

"Are you saying we could use wandless magic outside of school?" Harry asked.

"I dunno, maybe." Cass shrugged.

"No, now that I think about it, you can't. The Ministry has other ways of tracking underage magic…they caught Harry for accidental magic…" Hermione said.

"He blew up his uncle's sister," Ron supplied.

"You blew up your uncle's sister?!" Cass said incredulously, looking at Harry. After she said that, she realized she had forgotten to say 'our.' Uncle Vernon, as unpleasant as he was in Harry's stories, was her uncle, too, if only by marriage.

"Not on purpose!" Harry defended. "Well, it was quite funny…"

"Probably not for her," Cass muttered, giggling. Randomly, her stomach clenched. She brushed it off, intent on enjoying time with her brother. They had a lot of missed talks to make up.

"She was as big as a balloon," Harry said.

Cass snickered loudly. "Did she float like one, too?"

"Yep…if I hadn't been so frantic to get out of the house, I might have doubled over laughing." Harry was smiling. Cass decided she liked Harry's smile—a lot. It looked very much like James's smile in her vision. Identical, actually.

The feeling deep in her gut flared up again. It screamed at her to run, to get out of the room, something bad was going to happen...Cass scanned the common room wildly but found nothing dangerous. Still, the feeling unnerved her.

Ron and Hermione were busy arguing over whether Harry's accidental magic had been funny or not. Harry, though, was looking at Cass questioningly. Worriedly.

Cass shook her head, but she was starting to feel queasy. "Alright, I'm…I'm going to head upstairs now."

"Cass?" Harry asked, frowning.

"I'm fine, I promise. I just feel a bit sick—nothing serious—goodnight, guys…" Cass left the common room. She dashed into her dormitory and into her bed, not bothering to take off her clothes. Pauline was reading in her bed across the room, but Brooke was fast asleep with her hangings drawn. Pauline paid Cass no heed, and even if it was because the girl was being her usual snarky self, Cass was grateful. She didn't want to talk to anybody, much less respond to Pauline's snide remarks.

Cass yanked her shoes off her feet, tossed them on the ground, and pulled her hangings tightly shut. She then pulled off her robes and her pants because they weren't very comfortable in bed. The bad feeling in her gut intensified. Cass was scared—really scared. Like a little baby, she buried herself under the covers and squeezed her eyes shut. If only she knew what this was about…

It came to her so suddenly, Cass was sure a lightbulb had gone off over her head. How completely stupid of me, she thought. Cass sat up in bed and cast her mind forward. Usually, it never worked. Visions came to her, not the other way around. But this time…this time it worked.

And Cass wished with all her heart it hadn't.

A dark hall was lined with shelf after shelf of glass orbs. A snake slithered down the hall towards a bleeding, red-haired man. The whole scene had a taint, an evilness about it.

Flicker.

A flash of scales.

Flicker.

Green eyes and darkness.

Flicker.

Sickness…wrongness…twistedness…wickedness…Vol…Vol…Vol…

"Voldemort," Cass whispered as she slammed back into her body. She peeked out from her covers; it was completely dark in her room. Cass fumbled around for her discarded robes and pulled her wand out from them.

"Lumos," she said softly. Cass held her lit wand up to her nightstand. Her alarm clock read twelve-thirty. Cass's wand arm shook violently; she was terrified. What had that been about? Who was that man? Cass swung her legs out of bed, deciding to go…where? Dumbledore? Cass bristled at the thought. She loathed him for what he did. But that man had been bleeding profusely…

Cass blindly grabbed her dressing gown from the chair next to her bed. Frantically, she crouched down and searched for her house shoes, but she couldn't find them. Her hands landed on the sneakers she had discarded before climbing into her bed. Cass shoved them on her feet and dashed out the room. Maybe her vision had been one of the future, rather than one happening real-time. Perhaps, if she was fast enough…But as Cass sprinted down the stairs, she realized she didn't even know where it had happened. She felt like screaming in frustration; her visions were worthless if they didn't help her to stop them from happening!

A slight commotion greeted her in the common room. Neville Longbottom, one of Harry's year mates, was leading a very worried-looking Professor McGonagall up to the boys' dormitories. Why do I get the feeling Harry's involved somehow? Cass asked herself. It wasn't really a question; Harry seemed to draw trouble to him like a moth to a flame.

The older witch had a tartan dressing gown on, her lopsided glasses were perched precariously on her sharp nose, and she was halfway up the stairs before Cass called out, "Professor! I had a vision…it was horrible…what is going on?"

McGonagall paused long enough to look at Cass with concern and say, "I don't know just yet, Miss McGarther, but I suspect I'll find out," before darting up the stairs after Neville. For an older woman, she was surprisingly swift. Cass followed her up to the boys' dormitories, taking the stone steps two at a time. McGonagall hadn't said Cass could come, but she also didn't specifically say Cass couldn't come. Cass knew she would have come in any case, as she was quite positive it had something to do with Harry. She would have to give that boy a stern scolding about him somehow worming his way into every type of trouble in a thirty-kilometer radius. Right after she figured out what this was all about.

Cass reached the fifth-year boys' landing and peered through the open doorway. A very sweaty Harry sat in his bed, shaking and a wild look in his eyes. Cass crossed through the threshold and walked over to her brother—for once, in the direness of the situation, disbelief didn't rush through her body as she thought the word—and stood behind Professor McGonagall as she asked Harry what was wrong.

"It's Ron's dad," Harry explained. "He's been hurt by a snake and it's bad—really bad—I saw it happen."

"What do you mean, you saw it happen?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"I dreamt it! Listen, Mr. Weasley is seriously hurt, there was loads of blood, someone's got to find out where he is…"

"He's right! That's what I saw, only I didn't know it was Ron's dad. Please, Professor, Harry's right," Cass spoke up. Now was not the time to wonder how Harry had seen that, but, still, Cass couldn't stop the kernel of puzzlement as she thought about her brother's—that time it did spark some disbelief—dream.

Professor McGonagall looked at Harry and Cass with an unreadable expression, then promptly said, "Put on your dressing gown, Potter—we're going to the headmaster."

Quick as a flash, Harry was out of the bed and was pulling on his dressing gown. It was then that Cass realized she was in a boys' dormitory, so while Harry was shoving his glasses on the bridge of his nose, she quickly left the room, red in the face.

The walk to Dumbledore's office was swift, only taking a few minutes. Ron came with them, looking pale and afraid. Cass gave him a comforting smile, but he didn't seem to register it.

"Fizzing Whizbee," Professor McGonagall said to the stone gargoyle guarding the office. It became animated and jumped aside to allow all of them passage to the rising spiral staircase.

Cass, Harry, and Ron trod up the staircase behind McGonagall. Cass kept casting worried glances to Harry; should he be that pale and sweaty? She certainly never got that way after a vision. Or had what Harry seen even been a vision like one of hers? Nevertheless, he was looking far too ill for her liking. Cass stopped that train of thought in its tracks; it was the first time she had felt any sisterly protectiveness of Harry—which was quite odd, as she was four years younger than him…Not the time, not the time!

Dumbledore, wearing a royal purple-and-gold dressing gown, was still at his desk when they all walked in, working over a large stack of papers. At their arrival, he blinked once, put down his quill, and said, "Professor McGonagall…?"

Professor McGonagall glanced once at Harry, then said, "Potter's had…well, he's had a nightmare—of sorts."

"And I've had a, erm, vision," Cass added. McGonagall gave her a look that told her she had been getting to that. Cass blushed but didn't look down.

"Were the two the same?" Dumbledore asked in a calm voice.

Harry and Cass exchanged looks. "Well, I don't know about Harry, but mine was more of a feeling…it's hard to describe—like a great evil. I think it was…I think it was Voldemort," she finished in a whisper. Ron gasped sharply, but Cass continued, "It all felt very wrong. I actually didn't get a clear scene of what happened, just flashes, really."

"I got a clear scene," Harry said angrily. "But what does it matter if they're the same? Mr. Weasley is seriously hurt!" He looked troubled; Cass was sure it was because she had mentioned Voldemort.

"Can you describe where you were? I might know of it," Dumbledore said, not looking Harry in the eyes.

"It was a dark hall…" Harry supplied, calming down after seeming to realize measures were being taken to save Ron's dad.

"There were shelves of glass orbs, row after row…" Cass trailed off as McGonagall and Dumbledore gave a start.

"Everard! Dilys!" Dumbledore called. Cass wondered who he was talking to before spotting two portraits—she assumed they were past headmasters—snap their eyes open and look at Dumbledore the same way a soldier might look at his commander for orders.

"You were listening?" Dumbledore asked.

"Of course," answered one portrait, a wizard with short, black bangs.

"Naturally," answered the other, an elderly witch with silver hair.

Dumbledore didn't seem surprised to learn of their eavesdropping, which led Cass to believe they did it often. "The man—young Mr. Weasley's father—has red hair and glasses. Dilys, Everard, spread the word, make sure he is alright, and found by the right people…"

Both the witch and wizard nodded and stepped out of their frame, but instead of emerging into the painting next to them, which was normal for Hogwarts paintings, they simply vanished.

"Everard and Dilys were quite renowned in their days as Hogwarts Heads," Dumbledore said, rising from his desk, "therefore they have portraits hanging in other Wizarding institutions. They can move between their paintings and tell us what may be happening elsewhere."

Ron had a blank look on his face; his eyes had glazed over, his expression was neutral. Cass was sure he must be going into shock. She felt badly for him. It must be hard hearing your dad has been attacked by a giant snake.

"Please, sit down, you three…Minerva, if you could draw up some chairs…? Oh, and please go get the rest of the Weasley children, they'll need to be informed," Dumbledore ordered.

Professor McGonagall nodded curtly and conjured three straight-backed chairs that looked extremely uncomfortable. Cass sat down in one, Harry and Ron taking the other two. Cass mouthed, "Are you alright?" to Harry. He just nodded tensely and gestured with his eyebrows—Cass thought he was asking her if she was okay. She gave him a grim smile.

McGonagall headed out of the office, on her way to get Ginny, Fred, and George. Dumbledore consulted a gleaming silver instrument on one of his shelves and frowned. "She has found out you're out of your beds…"

"Umbridge?" Cass asked, assuming that was who Dumbledore was talking about.

Dumbledore gave her a small smile. "Yes. That was quite perceptive—your mother was the same way," he said warmly. Maybe he felt a bit guilty about what he had done, and maybe this was him trying to make amends. Cass didn't care; she would stay angry with him through all the comments he made about her and her parents. She and Harry had deserved to know about them being bloody twins. Dumbledore seemed to have picked up on her thoughts—something in her face must have betrayed her—and he carried on, grabbing a nondescript tea kettle on his desk and muttering, "Portus."

The old kettle trembled and shone blue before resuming its original boringness. "What was that charm?" Cass asked Dumbledore.

"It's used to make Portkeys. Those are magical objects that allow one to travel great distances in a very short amount of time," added Dumbledore at Cass's confused face. The name tugged at some buried memory in Cass's mind—she might have read it somewhere in passing.

"Fair warning, Cass, it isn't the best way to travel—it's a bit unpleasant," Harry informed her.

"Thanks for the warning," Cass said, wondering what Harry meant by unpleasant.

"I have sent a message to Sirius, you will be going to Grimmauld Place; it's more convenient than the Burrow in terms of proximity to St. Mungo's," said Dumbledore.

At the mention of St. Mungo's, Ron whimpered, but Cass barely heard him. She was going to meet Sirius, one of her parents' dear friends, and maybe even the other one, Remus. She felt a brief sense of emotional overwhelming. Cass was worried for Mr. Weasley, feeling sad for Ron and the other Weasley children, confused about Harry and how he saw what was going on, and the dominant emotion was her excitement over meeting Sirius and Remus, which in turn made her feel slightly guilty—shouldn't she be more upset with the situation than excited over meeting Sirius?

All that must have played on her face, for Harry gave her a tight-lipped, comforting smile. It was a little uncertain, either from the situation or the newness of having a sister, but it was genuine. That in itself made Cass feel better.

The door to Dumbledore's study opened and in came Fred, George, and Ginny, all looking disheveled and still half-asleep.

"Harry—? Cass, what are you doing here…? Ron—what's going on?" asked Ginny, who looked alarmed.

"Your father has been injured while working for the Order of the Phoenix," said Dumbledore. The Order…Cass recalled the name from the last time she had been in Dumbledore's office. She knew it was a secret society who fought Voldemort, but not much more than that. "He has been taken to St. Mungo's Hospital for Maladies and Injuries. You all will wait back at Sirius's house, your mother had been informed—you must go now, I'm afraid our Ministry friends won't be happy with you out of your beds…"

"All of us? What is she doing here?" Fred demanded, looking at Cass. Other than Ron and Hermione, no one else knew about Cass and Harry. Cass was positive that was about to change—soon, it was likely all the Weasley children would know.

"You must hurry—before the Ministry interferes…come, Mr. and Mr. Weasley…Ms. Weasley…You have all used a Portkey before?" Dumbledore asked.

"No," Cass said.

"Except you, Ms. McGarther," was Dumbledore's exasperated reply. The nerve of that man! Exasperated with her, after what he did? Cass knew that now was not the time for that, though, so she gathered around the tea kettle with the others.

Everyone, except Dumbledore, of course, touched the kettle with one finger. Feeling ridiculous, Cass did the same, though while everyone else only made contact with one finger, she grabbed the handle firmly; she didn't want to get lost in…whatever they were about to go through.

"One…" Dumbledore started counting down. Cass felt anxiety rip her stomach to shreds; she had never traveled this way before, it was frightening. "…two…" Harry suddenly seized up beside her and Cass got a strong sense of hate from him—wait, she had never felt people's emotions before… "…three!

Cass was lifted off her feet and into a whole different, wild, and spinning universe. A hook plunged itself deep into her gut and yanked—yanked—her away from Dumbledore's office. Her fingers, still wrapped around the handle, felt glued to the kettle with the kind of glue that stuck forever. Cass was banging into the bodies of the people around her painfully, her entire world a swirl of vibrant color and screaming wind. She might have shrieked in fear if she hadn't been so surprised with it all—

Cass hit the ground with such force that her knees buckled and she crumpled to the ground in a heap, landing on Ginny's right arm and desperately grabbing onto a sleeve—she thought it might be Harry's—to regain balance. That only resulted in pulling Harry down with her, who in turn pulled George and Fred down. All the children were dumped on the ground in a right mess.

"Ouch, sorry," Cass said, climbing gracefully—well, as gracefully as she could, tangled around so many bodies as she was—to her feet.

"That's alright," Harry said. "I've never had a smooth landing."

They were in a gloomy kitchen with no windows. Its rank smell of old mildew made Cass crinkle her nose in disgust. The only source of light came from a fireplace and a flickering candle; it illuminated the remnants of a simple dinner of what looked like mashed potatoes, chicken, and peas.

A hoarse voice reminiscent of a bullfrog said, "Filthy, blood traitor brats, back again…and who is this…? Nasty, foul creature she is…How dare they disgrace the ancient House of Black with their awful presence—"

"KREACHER, OUT!" shouted a second voice.

A dark-haired man came into view. He was still in day clothes, even though Cass was sure it was well past one in the morning by now, and had a haggard look about him. Cass's breath hitched; she knew this must be Sirius.

He came rushing into the kitchen, worried, but stopped in his tracks when he saw Cass. His bluish grey eyes sparkled with tears as he looked at her. Cass heard Harry's sharp inhale next to her, but her eyes pricked before she could rush over to Sirius.

A lone man sat in a dark cell. The smell of death reeked in the poorly lit room. A blackened, dead hand reached for him, but he stared back defiantly…

"Cass—Cassandra?" said Sirius, a look of wonder on his face.

"Do you know what's happening?" Cass heard Fred whisper to George behind her.

"Not an inkling, brother," replied George.

"It's just…it's just Cass," Cass said, not knowing what else to do. Hesitantly, she walked over to Sirius, Harry close behind her.

"Just Cass…I like it. Cass," Sirius said, as if testing it out. "I'm Sirius," he introduced himself.

"Like the star?" Cass asked, recalling the name from Astronomy.

Sirius grinned at her. "Yes, exactly like the star," he answered promptly, seeming pleased Cass had recognized it.

"You have your mother's face, her eyes…your father's hair…I'm rambling," Sirius said, grimacing. There was a slightly strangled sound behind Cass. Ginny was looking at her, Harry, and Sirius with astonishment, her mouth slightly open.

"Have my ears gone wonky?" Fred asked.

"Fred, I think mine have, too…Sirius, you knew Cass's parents?" George asked.

"Cass, you don't even know your parents…?" said Ginny, clearly puzzled.

"Erm…they were…sort of…kind of…Harry's parents," Cass said slowly, letting it sink in.

"What?" Fred, George, and Ginny said in unison.

"What's happened?" Sirius asked suddenly. "I heard Arthur was hurt…? Dumbledore didn't say much, only that you six would be coming over."

"Nuh uh, you can't change the subject like that," said Fred.

"You're all barmy! Cass is James's and Lily's daughter? Mental!" said George.

"They're—well, they're dead," said Ginny gently.

"She isn't lying, and she isn't mad," Ron spoke up. "It's the truth—and just look at them! They're nearly identical!"

"Can we please focus on this later—you know, after the crisis has been handled?" Harry said loudly.

At his words, everyone fell silent. Ginny's face contorted into awful worry, and Cass, despite the discomfort it caused her, wished Harry had kept the conversation of them being twins going, if only to distract the Weasleys.

"What has happened?" Sirius asked again.

Fred opened his mouth, but George gave him a firm shake of his head and said, "I care more about Dad right now than the absolute rubbish they're giving us."

"Yes, I would like to know, too," said Ginny.

"Well, I—sort of—had this nightmare, only it wasn't a nightmare…it was a vision—of sorts…" Harry said, shrugging helplessly. "In it, I saw a giant snake attack Mr. Weasley, and then I woke up in a right fit."

Ginny whimpered, so Cass walked over to her and gave her a hug. She flinched back a bit, stared at Cass oddly, but tentatively allowed her to embrace her. She probably thinks I'm mad, Cass realized. Ginny ended the hug after maybe three seconds, which Cass tried very hard not to be offended by.

"And Cass? Aside from being Harry's—twin—" Fred's unnecessary emphasis on the word showed just how much he believed them, "…how are you involved in this?"

"Well, I had a vision, too. I had felt—I dunno, wrong after we came back from the D.A. meeting, almost like I knew something bad was about to happen—"

"And you didn't say anything?!" George accused loudly.

Cass winced at the venom in his voice and had to remind herself that the Weasleys were going through a horrible thing right now to stop herself from retorting. "I didn't get a vision until later—I'm not omniscient, you know. Anyway, in bed, I felt really scared for no reason, and then I Saw what happened—only it was more broken up than what Harry saw—and I ran downstairs to try and get help, but McGonagall was already there."

"What do you mean, 'broken up?'" Ginny asked.

"Like, I didn't get a clear scene—it was more feelings," Cass answered.

"Which feelings?" Sirius asked with a note of trepidation in his voice.

"Bad ones," Cass replied, and she left it at that. No need to trouble them with the horrible, unnatural, sickening, evil…Calm down, Cass, she told herself.

"I get you having a vision, Cass, but what about Harry?" questioned Ron.

"That's what I'm confused about…Harry?" said Cass, looking at her—at her brother. The thought still felt like a car hitting a bump in the road. It had only been four days since Dumbledore told them…it felt like an eternity since she was searching for her parents.

"Erm, I don't know what it was. What do your visions—er—feel like?" Harry asked.

"Well, I'm usually looking down on the scene—is that what yours was like?"

"No…I was—I was looking from the perspective of the snake," Harry replied, looking ashamed.

"Oh," was Cass's answer. "Did your eyes sort of…prick hotly? As though you were looking into—somewhere —else?"

"No, no, it was my scar—it felt like it was burning," said Harry, who looked nervous. Cass hoped he didn't blame himself.

"Your scar?" Sirius echoed, a troubled look on his face.

"Yeah…" Harry trailed off. Cass wondered what Harry had seen. It certainly hadn't been like any vision she'd ever had.

"Now that that's all cleared up—" Fred snorted; it was in no way cleared up. George continued, "—we're going to see Dad."

"Right, so, if you could just give us some Floo powder—" Fred began, but he was cut off by Sirius.

"You can't, boys, I'm sorry. Dumbledore wanted you to stay here until your mother comes—how could we explain you showing up at the hospital when you were hundreds of miles away at Hogwarts? If not for Harry and Cass, you probably wouldn't even know anything right now," said Sirius. Cass thought that was unfair of him; shouldn't they be able to see their father? The Ministry already knows about Cass's Seer abilities—no doubt Umbridge would have told them the minute the barest rumor graced her pudgy ears—so why keep the Weasleys away? They could say Cass had Seen it. By Sirius's dissatisfied look, he was thinking the same thing, but he was listening to Dumbledore's orders. Dumbledore. It always comes back to Dumbledore and his manipulative means—old codger! Cass thought furiously.

Despite the protests of all the Weasley children, and a couple from Cass and Harry, Sirius remained adamant, even though it looked like it pained him. So, they all waited in the downcast kitchen, the smell of rotting walls in their noses, and the tortured look of anxiety on their faces. Cass felt out of place as she watched the Weasleys. She felt it was insensitive to not worry about Mr. Weasley, but it also felt pretentious to be worrying over someone she didn't even know. And it felt intrusive of her to be with Ron, Ginny, Fred, and George while they twitched nervously, scared for their father. She suspected that Harry and Sirius felt the same.

It also felt very awkward around Sirius. It would have been hard talking to a godfather—if he even was Cass's godfather—she never knew she had, but in this situation, surrounded by anxious silence, it was torture, plain and simple. Cass often caught Sirius looking at her with an almost tender look on his face, but it also could have been disbelief, or regret, or sadness…it was quite unreadable, actually.

To take her mind off things, Cass asked Harry about his vision—if it was, in fact, a vision—some more. It confused her, and something told her to investigate it further—or maybe she was just curious. "Harry, have you had visions before?"

Harry looked up from the random spot he was staring at on the floor and replied, "Er, sort of. I had a lot of weird dreams last year."

Last year…the year Voldemort came back. Cass filed this away, thinking it was too suspicious to be coincidence. "Maybe it runs in the family…Sirius, did our parents get visions?"

"No, not that I know of. Though Lily always seemed to read people like a book—she was special that way. I think it was more seeing the best in people rather than anything magical," he replied. Cass smiled at this bit of information about her mum, and her mind's eye imagined her kissing it and hugging it to her chest, as if Sirius's words were a teddy bear. Anything about her parents made her feel that way. Like she was slowly compiling a list of things that defined who they were. She stored it lovingly in a metaphorical pile in her head and then focused again on the matter at hand. "Hmmmm…has your scar always hurt when you have these…er…dreams?" That was the bit of information that some hidden instinct begged her to pay attention to.

Harry looked sharply at her. "Actually, yeah. Yeah, it has," he said. He frowned. "That's really odd…"

Cass was starting to realize something. Harry's scar, his perspective…it was all adding up to equal something very strange and frightening. "Harry," she said slowly. "Have your visions always been about Vol—"

The was a whoosh of flames and a red-haired, plump witch was deposited on the dingy hearthrug. In an instant, everyone was up and crowded around the woman, reaching down to help her up. The woman—Cass assumed she was Mrs. Weasley—had an exceedingly kind face and motherly manner about her. She hugged each of her children to her tightly, murmuring consolations into their ears.

"He's alright, he's sleeping. Bill's with him now, we can go visit later, when your father's awake," said Mrs. Weasley. She gave each of her children a weak smile before her eyes landed on Cassandra.

"Oh. Oh," she said. "My goodness, you do look like your mother!" Fred, George, and Ginny all did a double take. "Come here, Cassandra dear, no need to be shy, I want to meet you," Mrs. Weasley said, spreading her arms.

Cass smiled and went over to her. Mrs. Weasley, despite how pale she looked, gave a wan smile back and embraced her. Cass melted into it; it was very comforting to be in a mother's embrace, even if it wasn't her grandmother's or her own mother's, which were both quite unattainable at the moment.

"Look at the resemblance! When Dumbledore—that man, always secrets when he's around—told us, I nearly fainted! But, oh, how could you two not be? Fred, George, Ginny, close your mouths, the flies might get in. Now, I hope you didn't give Harry and Cassandra a hard time when they explained it to you, it's really—although it pains me to admit—all Dumbledore's fault for keeping it from them," said Mrs. Weasley.

"Mum, you're joking!" Fred exclaimed.

"Fred, this is Mum we're talking about. She doesn't condone any sort of pranks!" George said.

"You guys are brother and sister? Are Mr. and Mrs. Potter alive—?" Ginny cut herself off at the depressed looks on Cass's and Harry's faces

"No, erm, Harry and I are sort of, kind of, maybe a little bit, er…twins," Cass said, smiling sheepishly.

Fred, George, and Ginny stared dumbly at her. "You see, Dumbledore decided to take Cass forward in time because of this rubbish prophecy…" Harry explained their story. By the end of it, Fred, George, and Ginny were looking between Cass and Harry wildly, back and forth, like watching a tennis match. Cass felt awful and wished they hadn't told them at such a bad time—their father was in the hospital, for goodness' sake! But, when she thought about it, it was better than sitting there, worrying. Nothing like a startling discovery to keep your mind off things.

"Sirius, I expect you'll be wanting to talk to Cassandra?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"Mrs. Weasley, you can just call me Cass," said Cass.

"Very well, then. How about you talk with Sirius while I make some breakfast—you and Harry both?" Cass, Harry, and Sirius nodded before heading out of the room.

This was going to be interesting.

OoOoO