DISCLAIMER: Like everyone else on this site, I do not own Harry Potter. Unlike everyone else on this site, I have the tendency to spend hours at night crying over that fact . . . I really need some money . . . like really badly . . . I wonder, does JKR profit off her tweets too? Cuz if so, that's just unfair . . .
A/N: Helloooooooo! 200 FOLLOWERS! AHAHAHAHAH! Wasn't it just a few chapters ago I was celebrating 100 followers? THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!
Also, for the people in the States, Happy Thanksgiving Week! For people who aren't in the U.S., I don't think you all celebrate Thanksgiving, since the holiday marks the cooperation between the colonists and the Native Americans, but I hope you all are having a fantastic week anyway. Just to let you all know, I'm estimating 5 (ish) chapters more in this part of the story. I do have sequels planned (I actually know how this entire story is going to end) but I'm debating whether to put them on a separate fiction or not. I really don't want to start over from scratch with all the followers and whatnot, but I also feel it will be better if I make it a trilogy. You guys can let me know in the reviews, if you want.
Enjoy!
OoOoO
The dark wings stood out distinctly in the city nightscape. Curvy hips and long legs made the figure look clearly feminine. The wings, spanning the woman's entire body length, were held erect, awaiting, it seemed, the command of the woman to fly away, up above the clouds, carrying their evil taint through the mists . . .
OoOoO
"Harry, have you ever fought someone with, er, wings?"
His sister's question caught Harry off guard. Him, her, Hermione, and Ron were sitting in the common room, enjoying the Friday afternoon. Well, Cass and Hermione were enjoying themselves. Harry and Ron had the unfortunate task of writing a Transfiguration essay. Setting his quill down, Harry frowned at Cass.
"Er, no. It's pretty much only been Vol—You-Know-Who." He used the false name for Ron's benefit. "Why?"
Cass shook her head. "I don't know," she said, pulling the parchment she had been doodling on closer for Harry to see. Drawn in dark blue ink, a winged figure stood atop a cityscape. Only the figures outline could be seen, no clear features.
Cass continued with a thoughtful look in her eye. "I've seen this person before—dark skin, gorgeous, but with eyes like black marbles"—her finger moved to point out a woman's face at the bottom of the parchment—"I have no idea who she is. I Saw her last night, but she wasn't doing anything. Just staring at this building—I think it might have been in France. I could almost make at the Eiffel Tower in the distance." Harry took a closer look at Cass. Dark circles lined her green eyes, eyes that were filled with the hint at the visions she miraculously saw. She often looked that way—weary, full of sight, like despite her tiredness she could See straight into your soul.
"Can I see that?" asked Hermione, breaking Harry's reverie. Cass handed the parchment over to the older girl.
"Yeah, that's definitely Paris," confirmed Hermione. "See that building? It's shaped exactly like the Louvre."
"What about the wings? Last I checked, Parisian witches didn't have wings," said Ron, eager to be distracted from his homework. Though from what Harry could see, he hadn't gotten too far into it anyway.
"That's another thing—I get the feeling the wings aren't natural. It's, well, it's the same feeling I get whenever I see You-Know-Who." Cass crinkled her brow, obviously worried.
"Evil?" suggested Harry, his voice barely a whisper. That was troubling. He could barely take on Voldemort, and that was when he didn't have a little sister to worry about. Harry blinked; his little sister. Even after three weeks or so, the term continued to squeeze disbelief out of him.
Cass nodded in response, her eyes clouded with questions.
"Maybe it's just some random person who manage to grow wings by Dark magic?" suggested Hermione.
"I don't think it's random. I mean, it doesn't feel random."
Hermione tapped a finger to her chin. "I'll look in the library for any mentions of a winged lady in France. If there is anything on her, it shouldn't be that difficult to find—there can't be many winged women flying about, surely."
"No, I don't suppose there are," said Cass. "But don't bother. You won't find anything."
Hermione blinked, her only sign of surprise at Cass's blatant show of power.
"Have you had any other dreams about the hallway, Harry?" asked Hermione. "Maybe it's connected."
"How?" questioned Ron. He flicked a speck of dust from the table. "What's some winged lady in France got to do with the Department of Mysteries?"
"Just that Cass Saw her, really," said Hermione with a thoughtful narrowing of her eyes. "So, have you, Harry?"
"Yeah," edged Harry slowly. "You-Know-Who still wants the prophecy from there. But he feels more cautious—he clearly knows the Order has their eyes on him, maybe even a trap ready for him to spring, so he hasn't done anything."
"Maybe we should keep this down, guys?" advised Ron, his eyes on a couple second-years a few meters to the left.
"They can't hear us—I've got a sound ward around us," said Hermione proudly. "Professor Flitwick said it might be difficult, but I read ahead on next year's material . . ."
"Wicked," commented Cass, admiration for Hermione in her eyes. "I'd better go, though—my friends and I are taking a walk around the lake." She pulled on some mittens and waved farewell, smiling.
"Goodbye!"
"See you at dinner!"
As soon as Cass left, Hermione turned her quill to point at Harry and Ron chidingly. "You two have barely even started on your Transfiguration essay!"
Ron puffed out his cheeks and blew, glumly picking up his quill and beginning to write once more. He didn't get very far into his essay before he gave up and started peering at Hermione's parchment.
Harry, on the other hand, didn't pick up his quill at all. The Transfiguration essay remained blank before him. His eyes, troubled and pensive, were glued to the drawing Cass had left behind, the image of the winged woman burned into his retinas.
Was it just his imagination, or did his scar prick looking at it?
OoOoO
January passed in a flurry of snow and a mountain of homework. D.A. meetings had slowed down in anticipation for the Quidditch game of Gryffindor vs. Slytherin, but Cass and her friends still made the point to go practice whenever a meeting was cancelled. Neville Longbottom, Ginny, and Luna Lovegood often joined them, apparently just as eager as the first-years to learn defensive magic. Much to Cass's excitement, Luna and Cyrene thought of Levitating objects and walking on them. Ginny suggested they Levitate their shoes—the first few tries had been rather rough and painful, but soon nearly everyone got the hang of it (excluding Bello and Neville, but that could be chalked up as nerves). Umbridge's classes were, for the most part, boring, but Cass made up for the monotonous reading by glaring at the toad most of the time. Prank planning had been put on hold so the teams could practice for Quidditch but that didn't mean she could forget what Umbridge had done. Even more boring than DADA was History, which was to be expected. The rest of her classes were fun, except for Potions. That class was just stiffly awkward, and Snape was just a slimy git.
Cass continued to See the winged lady almost every night. Most of the time the woman was just sitting atop a roof, staring at something, something . . . nothing. For the life of her, Cass couldn't understand what this woman was doing. It ticked her off to no end, almost getting to the point where she was tempted to tell Dumbledore. She wasn't quite that desperate, though.
So, instead, she and Hermione made sure to check the Prophet every morning for news of a winged lady (though most mornings Cass Saw that nothing had happened before the mail even arrived). Plus, Hermione looked in the library for information on human transfiguration. Apparently, this girl could simply whip out a pass for the restricted area any time of the day.
Then, on the last week of January, Cass bore witness to something spectacular. It happened in the last D.A. meeting of the month.
During their wandless magic practice time, Harry wielded the most impressive bit of wandless magic in the club's entire history.
Cass's eyes pricked while she attempted to lift a feather, and a second later she whipped her head to the right, her eyes wide. Noticing this, Brooke and Cyrene nudged the others and pointed to where Cass was looking.
Harry sat cross-legged in the center of a ring of dummies, palms resting on his thighs. Cass watched him closely, wondering how her brother was going to accomplish what he had in her vision—flinging the dummies away from him. Feeling proud of Harry, she, along with her friends, witnessed something . . . magical.
A fierce look of determination on his face, Harry whispered, "Depulso!" and flicked his wrists in a sharp movement. With a loud clattering, the dummies around him shoved themselves away from Harry, flung violently with an invisible pulse of power.
The room, just seconds before filled with muttered spells, went quiet.
Harry opened his eyes, blinking at the fallen dummies.
"Er . . ." he said awkwardly into the silence.
Despite having known that would happen, Cass gaped with shock. "Harry, that was brilliant!"
The room broke out in congratulatory remarks, awed comments, questions on how Harry did that, and demands for him to teach them.
Harry brushed off the admiration humbly and immediately began talking on how he did it. Cass listened attentively, determined to accomplish that kind of magic one day. She made a point to give her brother a big hug afterwards, extremely proud of him.
After that meeting, the members of D.A. put in renewed efforts in their wandless magic. Several members could now levitate objects with ease, most of the older students could achieve small transfigurations, and Luna Lovegood had managed to cast the Disarm Charm more than once. Cass now spent thirty minutes every day practicing with Brooke in their dorm room; sometimes, she could hear Brooke muttering incantations in the wee hours of the morning, when neither of them could sleep. Pauline didn't seem to notice or care. Cyrene, brilliant researcher that she was, found a whole list of easy wandless magic spells for the first-years to cast, and now even Bello could at least levitate something one time out of three.
And so the first two weeks of February passed as well, with the second Friday seeing Cass cast a levitation spell without her wand ten times in a row. With the exciting Quidditch game this weekend and finally getting a grip on this wandless magic thing, things were looking nice. Quite nice. Cass spent loads of time with Harry, and slowly, the awkward tension between them dissipated.
Like she said, things were looking nice.
OoOoO
"Cass! Wake up!"
Brooke's voice spoke of sheer impatience. The sharp sunlight pricking her eyes, Cass threw a pillow in the general direction of her friend's voice, hopping it clonked her right upside the head.
"It didn't even come close," Brooke informed her with a laugh.
Cass sighed and rolled over, taking a blanket with her into the bathroom. Her tired reflection stared back at her, wrapped in a standard Hogwarts bed quilt. She recalled that today was the Quidditch match between Slytherin and Gryffindor and perked up.
"The match is today!" she said excitedly to Brooke.
Her friend nodded sarcastically. "Really? No kidding."
Cass bristled and flipped her hair behind her shoulder indignantly. "I'm tired, okay?" she said defensively. "What time is it?"
"Half past seven," answered Brooke as she pulled a brush through her strawberry blonde hair.
"The match starts at nine-thirty?" confirmed Cass.
Brooke nodded.
"Okay, do we still have some paint left over from last match?"
"Yeah, let me go get it . . ."
For the next half hour, Cass and Brooke got ready for the match in swirls of red and gold. With painted lions on their cheeks, their hair done up in braids, and Gryffindor scarves around their necks, they left the dormitory, waving a hasty goodbye to Pauline, who hadn't even risen from bed yet.
Dodging questions of who was going to win, Cass and Brooke made their way over to Harry, Ron, and Hermione in the Great Hall. On the way, they spotted Rose and Cyrene sitting with Marcell and Sarah at the Slytherin table and waved. The four of them wore Slytherin House colors. Bello and Janelle were over at the Hufflepuff table, each wearing a red-and-gold scarf around their necks. Cass grinned at them in greeting.
"'Morning, Cass, Brooke," said Harry. He wore the leather uniform of a Quidditch player. "I like the face paint."
"Thanks," said Cass, nibbling on some bacon. "Are you nervous for today?"
"Nah," said Harry dismissively. "Just excited—we've been working on some wicked plays this past month, I can't wait to put them to action."
"Is it true you caught your first Snitch in your mouth?" demanded Brooke as she drowned her pancakes in syrup.
"Er, yeah."
"And then, the year after that a rogue Bludger chased after you?"
Harry looked uncomfortable. "Well, yes, but it was only because of this house-elf—"
"And then the year after that—"
"Brooke!" interrupted Cass exasperatedly. "Let Harry eat his breakfast." Harry nodded at her in thanks.
"Sorry," muttered Brooke. "It's just—"
"Shh, I'm having a vision."
"Oh, right. I'll be quiet."
Cass pursed her lips, enjoying a few seconds of silence before her friend caught on.
"Hey, you've never spoken while having a vision before," Brooke accused.
"You could learn a thing or two about not speaking yourself," said Cass with barely concealed laughter.
"Yeah, well—"
"Alright, you two let us have our breakfast in peace," grumbled Ron, his mouth full of toast.
Cass looked at him flatly while Harry said, "Oh, don't like the bickering?"
"No, actually, it's about the bloodiest annoying—oh."
"Oh," echoed Cass sarcastically, looking at Ron and Hermione pointedly.
"Well," said Hermione coolly. "You might be interested to learn that I found something on human transfiguration."
Cass perked up. "Brilliant, what is it?"
"Human transfiguration?" asked Brooke before Hermione could answer.
"Oh, remember that winged lady I was telling you about?" asked Cass. "Well, I told Hermione about her too, and she's been looking in the library for methods on how the woman accomplished it."
"Oh," said Brooke. "Are they any ways you can give yourself wings?" She looked excited at the prospect, something Cass might have shared (wings? That would be wicked!) had she not known how wrong the winged lady felt. Unnaturally wrong.
"Not any pleasant ones," said Hermione, shuddering slightly. "I have a parchment in my bag. To put a long explanation short, human transfiguration the likes of that lady's can only be done with advanced Dark potions and Dark spellwork."
"Brilliant," Cass deadpanned. "As if one wasn't enough."
Hermione grimaced in agreement. "I can show you the book after the game, if you'd like. I wouldn't recommend it, though."
Cass shook her head. "It's alright, I don't need to know the grimy details."
"Speaking of the game, Cass, who wins?" Brooke asked.
Cass scrunched up her face. "Don't ask me—I'm trying really hard not to See." She could almost feel a vision coming on. No, no, no, no, NO! Exercising her will, she pushed it back firmly. She was thoroughly surprised when it worked.
"C'mon, it's got to be us," said Ron. "We've got Harry."
His comment nearly broke Cass's mental wall. Her eyes flicked and she got an image of Harry running across the field . . . no. "Ron, I'm trying to keep it out. It's never worked before, so if you could please be quiet . . ."
"Quidditch, quidditch, quidditch!" said Brooke jokingly.
Cass flashed her an annoyed look, then, on a whim, levitated Brooke's spoon wandlessly out of her hand. It wobbled precariously before falling on the table with a clunk!
"Nice job," said Harry, smiling proudly at her.
"Cass!" exclaimed Brooke heatedly.
"Thanks, Harry," said Cass, feeling extremely proud of herself. "And, Brooke, you know you're impressed."
"Impressed? Sure. Happy you magicked my spoon away? No," said Brooke crossly.
Cass smirked and finished her breakfast, feeling quite pleased with herself. After months of practice, she was finally getting some results. An hour later, her arms linked with Brooke, Janelle, and Bello, Cass walked into the Quidditch stadium, thrilled to see the match. Her face, slightly set in determination to not receive a vision, was red from the cold but she couldn't care less. Keeping her Sight at bay (albeit with a treacle-tart-ton of willpower), Cass might actually enjoy the game.
Halfway through the match, with Gryffindor leading heavily, the Slytherin team called for a break. So far, despite Brooke's and Ron's incessant questions, Cass had managed to hold back her visions. She should have known better. Eventually, she would learn her lesson not to push away her Sight. But today was not that day, as the events occurring soon pointed out.
Both teams on the ground, Cass noticed Draco Malfoy strutting with a set attitude towards Harry. Sensing something was off, she dropped the barrier hastily. Her eyes pricked painfully, as though her gift was upset it had been suppressed so long and now it was violently flooding in.
Cass gasped.
Three boys—two redheads and a black-haired—rushed at a blonde boy in green robes. Faces furious, the three boys pummeled the blonde one, who, despite wincing in pain, looked distinctly triumphant . . .
Flick.
"No Quidditch for the rest of the year!" exclaimed a toad-faced woman, brandishing her finger angrily. The three boys from before stared back with silent impunity. "And your brooms will be confiscated! AND you will all three serve detention for the rest of February." Then, in a softer voice, she added to the blonde boy, "Don't you worry dear, I'm sure the nurse will fix you right up . . . and of course Gryffindor will be disqualified . . ."
Flick.
"You three got yourselves into this!" screeched a stern-looking witch clad in red robes. "I quite agree with Professor Umbridge's punishments . . ."
With a lurch, Cass was back. Ron and Brooke looked at her expectantly, wanting to know who won.
"Treacle tarts!" muttered Cass, peering down below. She could already see Malfoy making his way over to the Gryffindor team.
"Did we lose?" cried Brooke in disappointment.
"No—gotta stop them—what are they thinking? Er, what will they be thinking . . . ?" Cass grabbed the nearest hand—Ginny's—and rushed through the crowd. She had to stop Harry, Fred, and George from attacking Malfoy . . . she was the thickest idiot for trying to stop her vision . . .
"Cass—where—what did you See?" demanded Ginny.
"Go, go, go—before it's too late!" said Cass. The two of them took the stairs three at a time, Cass explaining on the way.
"No, they love Quidditch!" said Ginny worriedly. "Damn, Malfoy's already talking to them—I don't think we'll make it!"
The two of them emerged from the stands, stumbling from the steep steps. "Harry!" Cass shouted in vain. Her brother was already marching towards Malfoy. "OI! STOP! HARRY, GEORGE, FRED STOP!" She sprinted across the field, drawing the heads of everyone in the stands. "HARRY, YOU'RE GOING TO GET YOUR BROOM TAKEN AWAY!" Her brother didn't hear her, or perhaps he didn't care, because he was already swinging his arm back . . .
"Expelliarmus!"
The spell hit Harry, Fred, and George in the chest. From the distance Cass had cast it, it probably hadn't hurt much, but it was enough to send the three boys to their bums. Malfoy twirled around in surprise, his eyes going wide when he saw Cass and Ginny.
"Bloody hell, Cass," breathed Ginny. "That was wandless. Damn, that was wandless! How are we going to explain a first-year using wandless magic?!"
Cass realized her wand was still in her robe pocket. "Uh oh . . ." Had she made it worse? "Treacle tarts. Sorry."
"Umbridge is coming—No, stay there! Stay there!" Ginny gestured frantically at the Gryffindor team to stay away, obviously not wanting them to be disqualified for foul play.
"I'm sorry, Ginny," said Cass quickly, her words falling out in a rush. "I should have just let the vision come—I could've warned Harry beforehand and we wouldn't be in this situation . . . I'm such an idiot." She would have gone on berating herself had Umbridge not swooped in like the vulture she was.
"Miss Weasley, Miss McGarther," said the toad coolly. "My office—now!"
Behind her, Hermione, Brooke, Janelle, Bello, and Ron hung back in the stands, their faces shocked. Janelle and Bello seemed to be holding Brooke back while Hermione had a hand on Ron's shoulder, clearly telling him to hold himself back. Over by the Gryffindor team, Harry was looking at Cass with concerned shock while Fred and George glared at Malfoy. She shrugged her shoulders at her brother, almost shamefully wanting to blame him for what just happened but knowing it was her fault. Stupid Cass. Stupid visions. Stupid, stupid, stupid!
Ginny nudged Cass to get moving. Sighing and regretting every life decision leading up to this point, Cass suffered through the humiliation of having Umbridge the Toad lead her and Ginny across the Quidditch pitch in front of the whole school. In the back of her mind, Cass thought there was a lesson to be learned in this experience: sometimes she might not want to See the future but that didn't mean it didn't exist. Actions have consequences. Visions have lessons. Cass thought it might take a while for her to learn that.
The walk up to Umbridge's office happened in silence. With frequent glances at each other, Cass and Ginny walked stiffly behind Umbridge, dreading the punishments to come. Cass felt horribly guilty about the whole thing; if she had just let the vision come, this whole fiasco could have been avoided. But, no, she thought furiously, you just had to try and be surprised by the stupid Quidditch game!
The office was, like the last awful time Cass had been cursed to be there, suffocatingly pink. The aroma of toxic sweetness clogged her nose.
"Please have a seat, both of you," said Umbridge, her expression lividly controlled.
Cass remained standing for a good five seconds just to smite the professor before begrudgingly sitting down in the stiff-backed chairs in front of the desk. Ginny, somehow having more nerve than herself, waited a solid two seconds more.
"Now," said Umbridge delicately. "What on Earth possessed you two to interrupt a student event in such an atrocious manner?"
Knowing how well it would go over, her head held high, Cass said, "A vision."
Umbridge's face was about as red as a cherry. It was boiling over with anger. Cass swallowed, legitimately concerned for a second before telling herself firmly she could deal with this power-crazy, toad-looking hag.
"A vision, hmm?" said Umbridge through gritted teeth. "And did this—hem—vision warn you of the consequences of your actions?"
"No," said Cass, hating that the toad had a point. "I'm not omniscient, you see—"
"Enough!" demanded Umbridge, slamming her palm down on the table. "I will not hear of this anymore! The next time you say 'vision', you will have detentions for the rest of the year!"
Cass scrambled to come up with a reply that could get away with being respectful yet have clear undertones of disrespect. She thought of nothing and settled for a tight, "Yes, ma'am."
"I ask you both again: what prompted you to perform harmful magic on your fellow students?"
It was Ginny who spoke up next. "It's my fault, Professor. I—well, Cass and I were on our way to the loo. And—er—we saw Potter and his friends—my brothers, if you can believe it—walking towards Draco. And . . . well . . . this is inappropriate, I know, but I have this—I fancy Draco, you see—and I thought they were about to hurt him or something. But they weren't, I don't think, and I acted out rashly. I'm sorry."
Cass gaped. Ginny shot her a look and she hurriedly closed her mouth and nodded, confirming the lie. Treacle tarts, Ginny worked well under pressure. It was pretty ironclad. It offered an explanation, played it whole fiasco off as "teenage girl drama", and Umbridge likely wouldn't repeat it seeing as how it would seem unbecoming of a woman her age spreading such gossip. Cass was impressed.
Umbridge looked flabbergasted for a second, obviously trying to find a lie in Ginny's story. "That is no excuse, Miss Weasley. None at all. Did you believe admitting your—er—feelings for Mr. Malfoy would exempt you from punishment? And you, Miss McGarther—lying about visions and Seers and whatnot! The both of you will be banned from any future school trips, you'll serve detention in this office this entire next week, and I expect a formal apology to Mr. Malfoy come Monday morning." Umbridge smiled sweetly. "With that wonderful explanation you provided me, Miss Weasley."
Ginny paled and genuinely looked like she was going to cry for a second before pulling herself together. Cass felt another bout of guilt—now poor Ginny would have to admit feelings for Malfoy just to keep up with the lie she had created, a lie that would have never been necessary had Cass just received the vision. Judging from the evil look in her eye, Umbridge knew it had been a fib, too.
"Wait, Professor, please don't make Ginny do that," said Cass pleadingly. "That's not fair—I was the one who—"
Umbridge tsked. "More lies, Miss McGarther? Between you and Miss Weasley, I suspect there's enough dishonesty for the whole school. I'll see you both in my office at seven P.M. sharp Monday morning. Oh, and do inform your Head of House about this. I suspect she's looking for you both right now."
McGonagall wasn't much better. She was waiting outside her office, her expression livid, her fist clutched around a red-and-gold scarf.
"In!" she said furiously, quivering with rage.
Cass crossed her arms and entered the room, Ginny swallowing nervously behind her.
"Well?" she demanded. "Explain yourselves!"
"I had a vision," said Cass tautly.
"A vision?" shouted McGonagall, tossing the scarf to the floor. "What, do tell, was this vision about? So help me, McGarther, it better be good."
"Harry and the twins were going to pummel Malfoy. They would've been banned from Quidditch, stripped of their brooms—by Umbridge, by the way, not you—and then given detentions for the rest of the month!"
"Why didn't you just warn your—uh—Potter before the match, then?" demanded McGonagall. "I would like to think he has enough sense to not do that on his own, but as I understand it your visions come early, yes? Well?"
Cass had winced. "They do. I—uh—I kept it back. I didn't want to See the outcome of the game . . ." she trailed off, realizing how pathetic her excuse was mid-sentence.
"I'd think, Miss McGarther, that you would have enough sense to be grateful for this gift," said McGonagall, frustrated. Cass resisted the urge to wince again. As much as she deplored admitting it, the professor was right.
"Aside from rushing recklessly onto the field and intentionally pressing back against your gift, you two—or one of you—cast the Disarm Charm against your brother, or brothers in Miss Weasley's case. Care to explain how, since neither of you had your wands out?"
"Accidental magic?" said Ginny weakly.
McGonagall's eyes flared with anger. "Which one of you performed the wandless magic?"
"I did," admitted Cass glumly, feeling like a traitor. What would everyone in the D.A. say?
"How?"
"By saying Expelliarmus?"
"You just earned yourself a week's detention, McGarther," said McGonagall coldly. "Tell me, how did a first-year master a skill that isn't taught until seventh-year, if it is even taught at all?"
"I found some works in the library and started practicing every spell I learned wandlessly. I guess not getting used to casting it with a wand helped," said Cass cautiously. Technically, she wasn't lying.
"Disarm Charms are not on the first-year curriculum," stated McGonagall dryly, calling Cass out.
"No, they're not," said Cass truthfully. "But—er—I've kind of taken Defense Against the Dark Arts into my own hands, Professor."
"I see," said McGonagall. "And Miss Weasley, have you anything to say?"
"Er . . . not really. I barely knew what was happening."
"You're excused, then. I will revoke any punishment Professor Umbridge has given you—I'm not so powerless as to not have any control over my own students."
"Thank you, Professor," said Ginny gratefully. Cass smiled, glad her friend had dodged the bullet. It was only fair after all, since Cass was the one who put her in the path of the bullet in the first place.
After Ginny left, McGonagall turned to Cass. "I don't know what possessed you to throw your brother and Mr. and Mr. Weasley to the ground or why you thought it wise to ignore your visions, but I hope today has taught you something valuable. You will serve detention for the rest of February, you will spend an hour daily helping the house-elves with their chores, and you will not make this mistake again, am I clear?"
"Yes," said Cass curtly. It's not as though I hurt him! He was going to be banned from Quidditch! "Er, Umbridge already gave me detention all next week."
McGonagall sighed. "I would have Dumbledore revoke those, but right now would not be a good time for him to . . . Never you mind. If that's the case, you can serve detention next week with, ah, Professor Umbridge and serve the following two weeks after that with me."
"Alright," said Cass with a sigh. "Professor—did we—oh, yes! We won!" Cass had gotten the vision mid-sentence: Harry's gloved hand holding the Golden Snitch triumphantly.
McGonagall didn't smile. "You're dismissed, Miss McGather."
Cass left the room. Taking a pit stop at the loo, she examined her reflection. Her lion face paint looked sad, dripping from sweat and appearing deflated.
"You idiot," she snapped to herself. "Thick, pig-headed idiot. Treacle tarts for brain."
And then, because she figured she had told herself off enough, she gave herself a small, forced smile. "But I cast the spell wandlessly."
That was something, at least. Enough to lift some of the guilt and enough to let Cass walk out of the bathroom feeling slightly better for herself. She could learn from this. She would learn from this.
The future didn't filter itself, but that didn't mean it wasn't worth listening to.
OoOoO
"Harry!" Cass called, spotting him leaving the Gryffindor locker rooms. "Harry!" A steady crowd of students were hiking back up to the castle, the Quidditch game over.
Harry's head whipped toward the sound of his name being called, his expression turning relieved when he saw Cass. "Cass! What happened?"
"Er . . ." said Cass, making her way over to her brother. "I Saw that you were about to attack Malfoy."
"I figured that much out for myself," said Harry dryly. "I mean, the wandless magic . . . ? That was brilliant, but—"
"I know, I'm sorry, you're not hurt, are you?" asked Cass, guilty that she had thrown Harry and the twins to the ground.
"Nah, it wasn't that powerful," said Harry, smirked when Cass made an affronted noise (not powerful? She was plenty powerful, thank you very much!) "But why'd you do it?"
"To stop you from pummeling Malfoy."
"It's Malfoy?" Harry emphasized his confusion with a gesture of his hands.
"I know, but he's like this"—Cass locked her fingers together—"With Umbridge. She would've taken you off the team permanently."
"Oh," said Harry. "Well, thanks for—er—stopping me then." He seemed to come to a revelation. "Wait, how did she punish you and Ginny? She can't have been too happy with you two for marching across the field like that."
"You're right, she wasn't," said Cass. "Neither was McGonagall—that woman can be downright terrifying sometimes. But Ginny pretty much got off the hook—I was the one who did all the actual casting. Umbridge gave me detentions all next week and McGonagall gave me detentions for two weeks after that. Oh, and I have to spend an hour cleaning with the house-elves every day for the next month."
Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Detentions with the toad all next week? You shouldn't have to go through that for me."
Cass shrugged. "Could be worse."
"Worse than carving your own words into your arm?" asked Harry shrewdly.
Wincing, Cass shrugged again. "I'll think of something. Switch the quills, threaten to tell Dumbledore, I dunno."
"Tell her about the licorice she has with her morning scone?" suggested Harry, a slow grin spreading on his lips.
"She might actually pop a vein with that one," said Cass, grinning back.
Laughing, the two of them walked back up to the castle together, the Gryffindors around them singing a triumphant chant.
OoOoO
