DISCLAIMER: JKR hasn't transferred me any money yet, so I guess I still don't own Harry Potter. It can't too terribly hard to cast an Imperious Curse, right…?

A/N: *shamefully peeks out from behind a wall* Hellooo, everyone! I'm sorry about the four-month-late update. Oof. Yikes. I've just been dealing with a lot and I was not motivated and . . . yeah, I know it wasn't nice of me. Thanks for all the support, though! Wow! Almost thirty more followers in all that time of not updating, what did I do to deserve you all? Don't be too mad! Sorry, again!

But anyway, we're not here for apologies, and I suspect you all don't much care for them, so I'll get to writing! Enjoy!

OoOoO

A dark-haired boy chased a red-haired girl down a torchlit hall, grinning mischievously.

"Evans, come on! It's my birthday, you have to give me something!" the boy told her, jutting out his lower lip pleadingly.

"How about…hmm…a point from Gryffindor for annoying me all the time?" the girl suggested sweetly.

"Don't be ridiculous, prefects can't take away points…"

"Can't they?" The girl gave the boy a sly look and turned on her heels sharply, walking off…

Cass's eyes opened, greeted by a wall of black darkness. Ginny's soft, deep breathing filled the air, just a meter or so over to Cass's right. Cass blinked several times, trying to adjust her eyes to the dark room. No light aided her, though, so she simply closed her eyes again and thought about her dream.

She was completely sure it had been her mum and dad in it. She hadn't been able to compare James's face to Harry's while having the vision, but she did so now and was met with confirmation; it had been James in her vision, and Cass recognized the redhead as her mother, so it had been her parents bickering together.

She was slightly surprised and how similar she was to Lily. Cass could imagine herself making the exact same remarks as her mother had, tilting her chin the exact same way. Her dad had said "Evans." Cass recalled Harry telling her that had been their mother's maiden name. Evans. Cass liked the sound of that, thought that if she were to say it right now, it would roll off her tongue like water. Or maybe she just liked it because it had belonged to her mum.

Her mum.

After finding out Harry was her…twin, it had taken Cass a while to register that she had found her biological parents.

And they weren't even alive anymore.

She couldn't touch them, hold them, talk to them…it heartbreaking. Heart-wrenching, especially when she Saw them and how wonderful they are.

Cass didn't know whether to consider herself lucky for being able to See her parents or unlucky to be able to See them. On one hand, she was gifted with a chance to See for herself what they were like. I'm sure that's more than Harry ever got, she thought sadly. But on the other hand, she got to know what she was missing out on, and that made everything so much more miserable.

Cass shook her head. No, I am lucky to be able to See them, she told herself firmly, slightly angry at herself for thinking otherwise.

Her thoughts moved to the events of that day. Cass was slightly miffed by Harry's stubborn refusal to consider himself anything but bad. It was really quite ridiculous of him. Even before she had found out the truth, Cass had always thought Harry was a good person. She wholeheartedly rejected the notion that Voldemort, malicious little devil that he was, could stand possessing someone as kindhearted as Harry.

But Cass couldn't deny she had felt something in Harry…something very dark. She would never, ever, ever say this to Harry, but it scared her just a tiny bit. It made Cass feel indescribably guilty to be thinking things like that about her brother, but, however much it pained her to admit it, even in her thoughts, there was something connecting Harry to Voldemort. It ran deeper than the prophecy Dumbledore had shared with them. It ran deeper than Voldemort's strange obsession with her brother (Harry really did have the rottenest luck when it came to magical villains). It felt…wrong. And unidentifiable, which frustrated Cass to no end. She was a Seer, wasn't she? She should be able to help her brother out with this, and she couldn't. She couldn't figure out what this—this thing linking Harry to Voldemort was. She theorized that it had something to do with Harry's strange dream about Mr. Weasley, the one so unlike her visions, but she didn't know for sure.

The thought didn't sit well with Cass, this not knowing, and she flipped over to her other side.

For a few more moments, Cass's mind went on wondering about the thing (there was no other word to describe it). She had a sneaking suspicion Dumbledore knew exactly what was going on, and it in no part came from her clairvoyance. It was just like the old codger to withhold even more information rightfully belonging to Harry.

Eventually, though, Cass's thoughts grew more and more hazy until they obtained a dreamlike undercurrent to them, and then she fell back asleep. As her mind yielded to fantastical wonders that one normally has during slumber, Cass hoped that she could receive another vision about her parents.

She really was quite lucky.

OoOoO

"Cass, I'll take you over to Kings Cross Station to meet your grandparents tomorrow. It'll be the day term officially ends, so they'll be waiting for you there anyway," Mrs. Weasley announced at the breakfast table.

"Wonderful, I'll come with you, Molly," Sirius said assertively, apparently quite determined.

"Sirius, I don't think that'll be such a good idea—"

"Molly, you cannot expect me to not want to meet the people that raised Cass—"

"I don't, Sirius," Mrs. Weasley cut in, giving Sirius a hard look. Cass, though, thought it sounded very much as though she did.

"Molly, I'll go as Padfoot. I'm sure Dumbledore won't mind—"

"Well, I'm sure he will. Besides, you barely behaved yourself last time, hardly acted like a dog at all—"

"I'm going, that's final," Sirius interrupted, a firm edge in his voice. Mrs. Weasley made an affronted sound deep in her throat.

Cass, along with the rest of the people sitting at the table, watched Mrs. Weasley's and Sirius's exchange as one might watch a tennis match. Cass felt very touched that Sirius wanted to meet her grandparents, and it was for that reason that she said, "Mrs. Weasley, I think Sirius should come. I want him to see my grandparents as soon as possible, even if it is from the perspective of a dog."

"Cass dear, that's very sweet of you, but I just don't think it's a good idea. Sirius could get caught." Mrs. Weasley directed that last bit to Sirius quite crossly, but he apparently didn't catch it. Rather, he was grinning at Cass, looking incredibly happy that she had stood up for him.

"Oh, Mum, just let Sirius go. He, of all people, deserves to see Cass's grandparents if he wants to," Ron told his mother around a mouthful of bacon.

Mrs. Weasley narrowed her eyes at her son. "You're not helping, Ronald. And don't talk with your mouth full of food, it's rude!" she admonished sternly.

"Mrs. Weasley, could Sirius please go?" Cass asked sweetly, batting her eyelashes in what she hoped to be an innocent, lovable manner.

Mrs. Weasley seemed to battle with herself for a moment before finally giving in. "Oh, all right. Sirius, you had better act like a dog!"

Fred and George opened their mouths at Cass, shocked to see that she had managed to persuade Mrs. Weasley to let Sirius go. Then, without exchanging any words with each other, or even glances, they started to slowly clap their hands together in admiration. Cass shook her head at their childish antics and grinned at Sirius, who gave her the thumbs up.

"You're diabolical, you know that?" Harry told her, smiling.

Cass shrugged, digging into her eggs.

OoOoO

That afternoon, someone stopped by Grimmauld Place that Cass had never seen before, but he seemed to recognize her the moment he laid his tired-looking eyes on her.

"Cassandra?" the man asked as he walked into the dusty family room. He looked very ill and exhausted to her, and, though obviously quite young, and several streaks of grey in his otherwise brown hair.

Cass, Harry, and the Weasley children were busy decorating the grimy room for Christmas. Cass herself had been in the process of hanging mistletoe on a hook attached to the putrid ceiling when the man entered.

"Yes?" Cass answered, assuming this person had known her parents and that was why he had recognized her so easily. She ran a list of who had known her parents in her head and guessed that this was Remus Lupin, one of the Marauders Harry had told her about.

Her prediction was proven correct when the man introduced himself. "I'm Remus Lupin—you can call be Remus. I was a friend of your parents."

Cass smiled and hopped down from the step ladder she had been using to reach the ceiling. She crossed the room over to Remus and stuck out her hand.

"Cass McGarther," she introduced herself.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Cass," he said warmly, taking her hand. Here it comes…Cass thought. A second later, Remus said, "I'm sure you must get this a lot, but you look remarkably like your mother, except for your hair. You and Harry share James's hair…though yours isn't messy."

"Lucky her," Harry remarked dryly, making a show of patting down a strand of hair that stuck straight up.

"Harry, it's nice to see you," Remus said, chuckling at Harry's sarcastic comment.

"Hey, Professor," Harry greeted, smiling at Remus.

"Moony!" came a shout from the banister, and Sirius came down the stairs, elf hat bobbing on each step. Cass would have laughed at the Christmas attire had she not been so startled by Sirius sudden exclamation. Some Seer you are, she thought to herself.

Sirius and Remus greeted each other at the foot of the stairs. Cass's vision flickered and her eyes pricked.

A boy with brown hair and tired eyes sat in a compartment all alone, reading a paperback novel.

Suddenly, two boys entered the train car, both with dark hair, and made themselves comfortable beside the boy.

The boy with blue eyes said, "I'm Sirius."

The brown-haired boy said, "About what?"

Sirius sighed overdramatically. "Not serious, Sirius."

The hazel-eyed boy rolled his eyes. "That clears things up perfectly," he deadpanned. "I'm James," he added.

"Remus," the brown-haired boy said, looking flustered.

Cass snapped back to the present, a small smile on her face. Harry gave her a questioning look, but she just shook her head.

Remus returned his gaze to Cass, a bittersweet expression on his face.

"You really do look like them," he told her. "Merlin, I just can't believe . . ."

"I know," said Harry. "Tell me about it."

Cass nodded her head in agreement, overwhelmed for a second by her own disbelief. Sometimes it all felt like a dream.

There was an awkward silence in the room that made Cass squirm uncomfortably.

"So . . ." she said. How does one start a conversation, again? For the life of her, Cass could not think of anything to say, much to her frustration.

"Merlin, this is awful," muttered Fred.

"Think we should help out?" said George from the corner of his mouth.

"They could really use it, couldn't they?"

Not wanting the twins' "help", Cass quickly said, "Maybe we could play a board game. Sirius, do you have any board games?" Better than nothing, she thought.

Sirius snapped his fingers together, latching on to her idea. "Yes, that's a wonderful idea. I'll go look for some." He dashed up the stairs, his little elf hat jingling merrily, which contrasted with the awkward atmosphere of the room.

Harry gave Cass a thumbs-up for her suggestion, smiling.

Cass smiled back, but it wavered for a second as she felt something cold emanating from Harry. She thought back to the thing she felt in him and her smile disappeared.

"Cass, you okay?" asked Harry, concern in his eyes.

Cass shook herself and forced a smile.

"Of course, I know who is going to win."

"Us?" asked the twins in unison.

"No," said Cass. "Me."

"No fair, you Saw that," complained Ron.

She hadn't, but nonetheless Cass smiled sweetly and said, "Maybe."

"How does that work, exactly?" asked Remus, looking genuinely interested.

Cass thought about his question and tried to articulate the feeling she got when she had a vision. "It's almost like this pricking in my eyes, as if I'm about to cry, but instead of tears I get a vision." She frowned at her inadequacy to explain it properly. "Only that's not exactly it. It's a bit difficult to explain."

Remus looked thoughtful. "I think I get it."

Cass was impressed he got anything from her less than perfect description. "It chooses for itself when to work, too."

"You can't control it?"

Cass shook her head. "Not most of the time. It's really quite frustrating, actually."

"Frustrating? How can you See the future and not think it's the wickedest thing ever?" Harry asked with a bewildered shake of his head.

"Seeing the future is great. Seeing what random people will have for breakfast? Not so much."

"What will I have for breakfast tomorrow?" demanded Ron immediately, an eager look on his face.

"I shouldn't have said anything. Honestly, out of everything you could have asked about," said Cass in exasperation. "Bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich," she tacked on, unable to stop herself. A second later, she berated herself. Now he's going to bug you about that every night.

"Wicked," said Ron. "I love breakfast sandwiches."

"You love breakfast, period," said Ginny with an eyeroll.

"You just love food in general," added Cass, sharing a snicker with Ginny.

"What's not to like?" said Ron defensively. "A boy's gotta eat, doesn't he?"

"Every minute of the day?" asked Harry pointedly, a smirk on his lips. Cass snorted.

"What on earth are you lot talking about?" asked Sirius as he entered the room again, a tottering pile of worn boardgames in his arms.

"Cass Saw what Ron was going to have for breakfast tomorrow," informed Ginny as she and Cass cleared off the coffee table of Christmas decorations. Sirius set the games on it with a firm clonk. Cass observed that the games were made from wood, not cardboard, and they looked ancient.

"Reckon you can tell me when Dumbledore will let me out of this dump?" muttered Sirius sarcastically.

Knowing the question had been rhetorical, Cass didn't answer, instead asking a question of her own. "Are those antique?"

"They are. I found them in the darkest corner of the attic," replied Sirius, wrinkling his nose distastefully. "It took a good three scourging spells to dust them off."

"Hey, is that Snakes and Ladders?" asked Remus, pointing. He had a reminiscent smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "It is, isn't it? Merlin, remember when we used to play that in our school days?"

Sirius grinned. "I thought you'd recognize it."

Cass's eyes smarted and she got a brief flicker of an image. Four boys sat around a game, their laughing faces containing a mischievous glint. She blinked and the image was gone, lost once again to the past.

Harry snapped his fingers in her face, eyebrows raised. Cass realized everyone else had already taken their seats. Slightly put-out with herself, she said, "Sorry. It looked like you guys had fun playing that game."

Remus goggled, sharing a questioning look with Sirius and then Harry, who shrugged and said, "You get used to it."

Cass frowned at her brother. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"It isn't," said Harry quickly. "It just takes some getting used to."

"Like finding out you have a twin sister four years younger than you?" said Cass sweetly.

"That took a whole lot more getting used to," said Harry. "And I still haven't quite registered it."

"Ditto," muttered Cass. Sirius grunted his agreement as well.

"You guys talk too much," said Fred grumpily.

"Yeah, let's just start playing already," added George.

Cass reckoned they just wanted to prove her vision of winning wrong—a vision she hadn't even had—but nevertheless she sat down next to Remus.

Cass, to her delight, won every single game the group played. She admitted to herself that she hadn't won fairly, seeing as how she predicted everyone's move before they made it, but it was still good fun. For her. She suspected everyone else was growing annoyed with her, so, concentrating, she tried building a barrier in her mind to stop the visions. When that didn't work, she simply didn't act on them, purposefully choosing the move that would result in her losing.

"Now you're letting us win," complained George.

"Where's the challenge in that?" said Fred, knocking over Cass's game piece and eliminating her from the game.

"I'm sure you two can find enough challenges without my help," said Cass, sniffing her nose indignantly. What was she? A mere source of entertainment? Hmph.

"Like so," said Ginny, elegantly knocking Fred's piece clean off the board. George, without skipping a beat, used his turn to flick Ginny's piece onto the carpet with the tip of his wand.

Rolling her eyes, Cass reach down to pluck it off the carpet. Honestly, was that necessary? She stopped her hand, something warning her not to touch the small wooden game piece. Her retinas pricked. Still leaning down, Cass smiled smugly and used the sleeve of her shirt to flick the piece towards Fred's bare ankle.

It hit the boy's skin in a burst of colorful sparks, just like Cass knew it would. Fred yelped and sprang into the air, sending the table flipping onto the ground. Cursing with about as much color as those sparks, he hobbled on one foot, while everyone except Cass stared with open mouths.

That's what you get for trying to prank me, Cass thought with a small, triumphant smile. She didn't want to admit that it had been a close call. George spelling the game piece at the last minute was a smart move on their part.

After a couple seconds, the fireworks died down. Cass cracked up, hugging her waist in a futile effort to control her laughter. "I can't—believe—you thought—that would work," she wheezed. She mimed wiping a tear from her eye.

Understanding dawned in the room.

"That had been meant for Cass?" demanded Sirius, his face mingled praise and disapproval.

"George!" said Fred, ignoring Sirius. "You said that would work!"

George had a shocked look on his face. "I thought it would!"

"It didn't," said Cass sassily, still snickering.

Fred crossed his arms at her and regarded his brother thoughtfully.

"This is going to take more planning than we thought," he said. With a nod to George, they both Disapparated, filling the room with a cracking noise.

"What just happened?" asked Ron, puzzled and confused.

"The twins failed to prank Cass," answered Ginny. "And she sent their little joke right back at them."

Cass smiled proudly. "They've tried and failed a dozen times over already. For the love of treacle tarts, you'd think all those failures would give them some common sense." She pursed her lips, thinking it was really quite time the twins got over this stupid little prank onslaught they've struck up with her.

"Wouldn't've stopped us," said Sirius, shrugging. Cass could tell he was referring to the Marauders. "We would've loved the challenge just as much as those two."

"I wouldn't have," protested Remus.

"Sure you would've, Moony," said Sirius lightly. "The logic puzzle would have delighted you for weeks."

"Maybe," Remus conceded, flicking his wand to straighten the table.

Cass smiled at their exchange, a happy feeling blossoming in her chest. If Sirius and Remus could work out all their problems after Remus had believed Sirius was the reason her parents were dead, she was sure she and Harry could work out all the awkward tension. What was a little brother-sister bonding compared to all that Remus and Sirius had gone through? Now, if only Cass could make herself believe that. Her mind stubbornly refused her.

OoOoO

Dinner that night was—there was only a single word to describe it— madness. Cass, Harry, and Ginny banged their fists on the table, cheering on Ron, who had three turkey legs in his mouth, and was going for a fourth one with an expression of determination. The Weasley twins were having a food fight—Ginny's hair had "accidentally" been victim to a whole scoop of mashed potatoes—and Padfoot was running around the table, tail wagging happily at the pandemonium, chomping up bits of food on the floor. The house-elf Kreacher, who made Cass want to give up S.P.E.W. entirely, screeched insults at the entire group, spitting on their "filthy blood" and "vile betrayal" and basically everything else about them. Cass could almost admire his creativity, if not for the cruel remarks putting a sour taste in her mouth.

Mrs. Weasley was futilely trying to establish order, wagging her finger this way and that, and sometimes joining Kreacher in insulting everybody. Remus was over by the stove, putting out a fire that had started in the pan after Mrs. Weasley had left it unattended. Somewhere, a deep voice sang opera music in Italian, and for some reason, it seemed to fit the chaotic kitchen.

Cass leaned in closer to her brother, ignoring the way that word sent its familiar tendrils of disbelief into her chest. "Ron's not going to be able to take his fifth leg," she muttered out of the corner of her mouth.

"You Saw that?" asked Harry, not taking his eyes off Ron, who was currently trying to work another turkey leg into his mouth. A awry carrot hit Harry on the nose.

"No," said Cass, entranced and disgusted as Ron managed a fourth leg in his mouth. "Just common sense."

"Ronald!" shrieked Mrs. Weasley. "You're going to choke!"

No, he won't, thought Cass, though she wisely kept that to herself, fearing Mrs. Weasley would take it as cheeky disrespect.

"Duck, Harry," Cass warned suddenly. He did, and the buttered roll soared over his head and clonked Mrs. Weasley on the head.

"GEORGE!"

There was a crack to Cass's left, telling her Fred and George had Disapparated. She thought that was pretty smart of them, if Mrs. Weasley's look of rage was anything to go by.

"YOU STOP THIS MADNESS THIS INSTANT!" yelled Mrs. Weasley. Cass spared a look around, saw that no one else was listening to Mrs. Weasley, and then returned her attention to Ron. The boy was now looking nauseatingly at a fifth turkey leg.

"SIRIUS—YOU STOP RUNNING AROUND LIKE A MAD MAN—REMUS, A LITTLE HELP WOULD BE APPRECIATED—BOYS, I KNOW YOU'RE UPSTAIRS, YOU'RE GOING TO BE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE WHEN YOU SHOW YOUR FACES AGAIN—YOU THREE, STOP CHEERING RON ON—OH, FOR GOODNESS' SAKE, RON, GET THOSE TURKEY LEGS OUT OF YOUR MOUTH!"

Cass, Harry, Ginny, and Ron exchanged scared looks. Sirius barked challengingly, obviously enjoying the hectic but friendly atmosphere in the room. Mrs. Weasley's face turned livid, and without exchanging words, the four kids scrambled out of the room. Poor Ron (though it was completely his fault) had to go through the painful process of getting all those legs out of his mouth in less than five seconds to avoid his mother. Laughing, the four dashed out the kitchen, Padfoot hot at their tails, and Mrs. Weasley not far behind, shouting admonitions at them. Harry and Cass practically ran into Bill and Tonks, who had been at the hospital with Mr. Weasley, as the two Order members were entering the basement kitchen.

"Mum—right behind us—she'll kill us!" wheezed Ginny, her face flushed with exhilaration.

"Go, skedaddle!" said Tonks, making room for the four kids. Cass flashed her a grin as they all clambered up the steps, intent on hiding this out until Mrs. Weasley calmed down. Sirius changed back into a man, his usually sad eyes alight with amusement.

"You lot are so much fun," he told them. "Go, before Molly catches you!" Cass smiled, thrilled Sirius wasn't an uptight grump, and dashed up the stairs with her brother and their friends. She was laughing so hard it hurt—when was the last time she had felt this happy? They were all acting like young, immature children, and she loved every second of it. Hurriedly, the four of them pressed themselves into a closet. Cass thought she felt something crawl over her foot. She told herself firmly not to be squeamish and huddled against Harry and Ginny. The dark closet smelled of mildew and rot.

"How long do you reckon it'll take for her to calm down?" asked Harry, who was squished up against a wall beside Cass, who was equally cramped.

"I heard her go on for hours once," whispered Ron. "My mouth hurts," he added, his voice regretful.

"I don't doubt it," Cass whispered back. Her heartbeat calmed down.

"Shh!" warned Ginny, her voice barely containing a laugh. "I hear something."

Cass's eyes smarted.

A plump, red-haired woman opened the door, hands on her fists, fury on her face.

Four adolescents grimaced in their hiding spot, but they couldn't dampen the wide grins on their faces.

"Uh-oh," said Cass.

A second later, Mrs. Weasley opened the door, her posture the exact same from Cass's vision.

A good hour later, Cass's ears were still ringing from the scolding the four of them had gotten. But even Mrs. Weasley couldn't miss their joy for long, and sighing wearily, she had sent them to bed, like naughty little children. Though Cass's pride had unquestionably been damaged, she was completely happy with the chaotic dinner. It had felt so . . . right. She and Ginny had been sharing laughs on and off for the past thirty minutes, and she knew this would be a memory she kept in her heart for a long time. She supposed her and Harry were catching up on all the mischief they had missed out on, and that thought was the last thing in her mind before she fell asleep.

OoOoO