Disclaimer: All rights go to JK Rowling. Anything you don't recognize is mine.

Updated as of 8/2/2019.

Chapter Twenty-Two

The Visitor

The man with the red eyes smiled at them—a serpent believing itself to be charming when it just came off as hungry.

Cassie's knees knocked together, her whole body going numb.

He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. The Dark Lord. Standing in front of her fireplace, hands clasped behind his back and looking as if he were the true owner of Alderfair Manor.

"Please." Cassie shivered when he spoke, his voice high and cold to her ears, like the biting wind that struck at you if you were standing on the peak of a tall mountain, waiting for it to rip you from the top and throw you back to the ground. He gestured with a pale hand to everyone in the room. "Sit."

The assembled Death Eaters and Alderfairs sank into seats around the room, angling themselves so they could see the Dark Lord from where he still stood in front of the hearth. Cassie nearly collapsed onto the small sofa with her father and mother, her heart pounding. Her hands were trembling, and she shoved them between her knees to hide them, her throat parched as she took in the people around her, looking everywhere but to the fire.

Directly across from her sat a young couple, their hands entwined and their platinum hair gleaming in the light of the room. She recognized the man—who was only a few years older than Will—as Lucius Malfoy, who had been a Fifth Year and a Prefect when Cassie first started Hogwarts. She'd been terrified of him her first three years of school, for his status of being the strictest and most power-hungry Prefect had made him reputable amongst all the Houses. A delicate woman sat next to him, and though Cassie didn't remember seeing her at Hogwarts at all, her features were distinctly familiar, yet she couldn't quite place them on her face.

Her eyes traveled next to another man and woman, the man displaying a narrow face and pointed chin, with a gleam in his black eyes that made her look away hastily, her stomach churning. The woman next to him was darkness incarnate: wild black curls piled messily around her head and shoulders, and heavy-lidded eyes that seemed able to penetrate even the deepest of shadows. She was terrifying, to say the least, with an aura of smug arrogance that seemed to roll off her in waves, and Cassie started when she realized that her demeanor remarkably resembled that of the Blacks, meaning that the woman had to be Bellatrix Black—or, Lestrange, if the man next to her was her husband, Rodolphus Lestrange.

The rest of the people gathered were younger adults, and though she had a nagging suspicion that she knew some of them, she couldn't remember their names or faces—or perhaps her fear was making her memory cloudy. They all bore the same disposition, however; one of arrogance, and eagerness, and a blind loyalty that shone in their eyes as they gazed to the Dark Lord, their faces basked in the golden glow of the flames. They were his followers, and Will's comrades, she realized. Killers and torturers, their beliefs rooted in supremacy and elitism, and they were all sitting in her drawing room as if they had gathered for afternoon tea.

"Before we begin, I would like for us to extend our gratitude to the Alderfair family for allowing us to take residence in their home for the evening," You-Know-Who said, nodding to the three Alderfairs seated on the couch. Cassie could feel everyone's eyes swivel to them, murmurs of thanks passing around the room.

"As most of you may know, the Alderfair family has been around for generations," he continued. Cassie kept her eyes trained on her feet, fighting the urge to flee. "Wealthy, esteemed, and not a drop of Muggle blood to taint the roots of their purity—an unfortunately rare condition in our society today."

A ripple of agreement swept through the crowd. Cassie's eyes darted to where Will stood by the liquor cabinet in the room, swirling some amber liquid in a crystal goblet. The square of his jaw was thrown into deep contrast, his face shadowed and hollow in the firelight, making his eyes disappear into his skull. He appeared not to be listening, but she could tell he was deep in thought, his mouth pulled into a frown as he mulled over his drink.

"Your William has become an invaluable asset to the New Order." You-Know-Who now spoke directly to her parents. She sucked in a sharp breath, daring to look in his general direction, but focusing her eyes on some point over his shoulder. "Know that I am increasingly grateful for his service, and you should be proud."

Then those red eyes were upon her. She could feel them, like burning hot coals pressing into her skin. She suppressed a shiver, keeping her eyes trained forward, unseeing.

"I have been so impressed with William's dedication that I now find myself curious to see if his sister is the same way," he mused. Her mother stiffened beside her. The Dark Lord's eyes finally left Cassie, but before she could breathe a sigh of relief, he had flicked one of his pale hands. "Everyone, leave us. I wish to speak to young Miss Alderfair alone."

There was a soft rustle as the Death Eaters filed out silently, disciplined soldiers they were. Cassie sensed her father stand, tugging on Eleanor's hand after she made no move to join him. She wondered if her father was bothered by being ordered around in his own home, but if he was, he didn't show it, only looking to her mother expectantly. With some reluctance, Eleanor stood. Cassie didn't dare meet her eyes, afraid that if she did, she would break, and all her fear would come pouring out. After a few tense seconds, Lukas and Eleanor exited the room, Will on their heels.

He stopped, just before leaving, and Cassie turned her head, meeting his eyes and wondering if he could see the simmering anger behind her own, the fury at his gall to even put her in a situation such as this. His expression was indecipherable, but there was something in his gaze that resembled fear and maybe even a hint of apology before he was gone, closing the door and trapping her with the Dark Lord.

The snap of the door seemed to wake her up, and she emerged from her stupor of fear, her mind clear and her survival instincts kicking in. She sat up straighter and took a deep breath.

Control.

With some focus, she managed to quell the tremors in her hands, and she slid them back into place on her lap, palms flat and fingers entwined, the heat from her skin soaking through her robes and settling on her thighs. The action reminded her of Sirius's hand on her knee at dinner earlier, and the thought helped her some as she evened out her breathing.

Conceal.

The Alderfair mask came out of hiding when she summoned it, and she carefully schooled her features into a castle wall, impenetrable and formidable. Weakness, even the tiniest crack in her wall, could easily topple her reign and subject her to the serpent before her, and that was something she could not afford.

Contact.

This was the hardest part. The eyes were the gate to the secrets hiding in the garden, and if she wasn't careful, then the lock could be picked, and she would be exposed. Steeling her spine, she forced herself to look up and into the red eyes of the serpent, fighting to keep her breath steady and her heart steadfast despite everything in her screaming to run.

She was now facing He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in his entirety, and she could tell he was sizing her up just as she was doing the same to him. She imagined he used to be handsome once before he had corrupted himself with either Dark Magic or his own hand, seen in his thick black hair and pretentious features—perhaps charming at one point, but now marred into something else.

She remembered stumbling upon an old book in her father's study many years ago, and though she had been too young to understand half the words, the pictures in it had been enough to frighten her for weeks with nightmares: detailed drawings showing witches and wizards with abhorrent, monstrous features, their afflictions all brought about by a use of abundant Dark Magic. Her father had walked in on her studying the drawings in rapt horror and had promptly thrown her out, yelling the whole time, and though she had gone back in search of the book after the worst of her nightmares had subsided, she never found it again, and now she wondered if the Dark Lord would ever grace those pages in the future.

His skin, which must once have been a fair ivory, was now sallow and too pale, stretched like wax over his face and giving him a haunted, skeletal look. He was tall and slender, his black robes making him look like a bare tree, bleached with moonlight but still cloaked in shade. He may still have tried to pass off as an ordinary man if it weren't for the eyes.

Her first thought was that they looked like the startling crimson of blood, but that couldn't be it; blood was natural, an organic thing, and he was anything but. Dark Magic had twisted him to its will, and this was the product before her, staring at her with those unnatural eyes with slits for pupils and cutting into her very flesh.

The only sound in the room was the crackling of the flames. She held her tongue, refusing to be the first one to speak. And what was she supposed to say, anyway? "Wotcher, mate. How's it going? Torture any Muggle-borns lately?"

"You surprise me, Miss Alderfair," he finally said. He tilted his head, his eyes raking over her from head to toe. "You appear to be nothing like your brother. He is rash, bold, and headstrong. You are the opposite: poised, graceful, observant. A young woman with a clear mind and a strong will. We could use more followers with the same attributes."

"So, is that why I'm here speaking with you?" she asked, surprising herself with her directness. "Because you want to recruit me?"

He pursed his lips—so pale they were almost blue, adding more eeriness to his features. "Recruit is not the word I would use."

She raised a brow. "Oh?"

"In order for a cause to be successful, it needs to have believers." His wand appeared in his hands, and she had refrained from shrinking back, keeping her expression neutral as he began to roll the pale wood between his fingers. "Plucking people off the streets and telling them to believe in your cause is one thing, but that is too extreme. Those people are usually the ones who need to be coerced into believing, and then they are not true. But the enlightened ones, the ones who have dreamt of the day when they would rise up and take back what is rightfully theirs—they are the believers. Those are the ones who seek me out, the ones who wish to see their world as it should be. I accept them as comrades-in-arms, and in turn, they trust in me to lead them to the salvation of the wizarding world and all its purity."

"And what of your cause?" she said, lifting her chin a hair in challenge. "Why disrupt the order of the wizarding world now?"

For a moment, she wondered if she had crossed some line, for he didn't speak, merely opting to gaze at her and leaving her to shift uncomfortably in her seat. But then he smirked; a wry grin that looked more like a grimace with his features.

"Perhaps I was wrong earlier," he said. "You are bold, as well; another true Gryffindor." He paused, glancing down to his wand again, before saying, "Do you believe in immortality, Miss Alderfair?"

She blinked once. "Like the Elixir of Life?"

He nodded. "Something like that."

She hesitated, unsure of what to say. "I believe wizards have the capability to achieve it, yes. It would be nearly impossible, but Nicolas Flamel did it. But do I believe in the concept of it?" She shook her head, frowning. "Nothing lasts forever. There's a limit to everything. Even magic."

"And what if I told you you're wrong?"

She narrowed her eyes at him, skeptical. "How so?"

"Alchemy is not the only solution," he said, eyes glinting in the gloom. "I have achieved things no other wizard would dare; I have pushed the limits of life farther than anyone else, but I will not stop there. My legacy will reign for eternity, and that is my cause, Miss Alderfair. Everything else is simply there for the taking."

"Then the torturing of Muggles and mongering fear amongst wizards is just an extracurricular?" she said, her fingernails digging into her palms as she clenched her fists. "A fun little game for your followers to play while you daydream about some glorious fantasy?"

She tried to calm down, reminding herself that she was alone with the most dangerous person in the wizarding world at that moment, but she couldn't. This twisted excuse for a man was delusional, and she couldn't stomach what she was hearing.

"Muggles and Mudbloods are still a blight on our society," he replied, and if she thought his voice had been cold before, now it was downright chilling. "Even half-bloods are inferior to the untainted magic of Pure-bloods, as I am sure you understand."

"I don't," she said. "Blood status doesn't determine who is better at magic or not. Pure-blood families would have gone extinct centuries ago if they hadn't started to marry outside of other Pure-blood families. The past may have lauded Pure-bloods, but they're merely a minority now. Killing off all the half-bloods and Muggle-borns won't do anything to change that."

The Dark Lord studied her for a long time, but she found that she didn't really care. This monster was the one who had warped her brother into an entirely different person for his deranged ideology, and as much as she blamed Will, she blamed him even more. He was a madman, simple as that.

"Interesting," he said as if he had reached some sort of conclusion. "Your brother made a strong case against me attempting to persuade you, and I am surprised to realize that he was right; there is too much Gryffindor pride in you, the thrill of championing the underdog that makes you unsuitable as a Death Eater." He said the last part as if she were a particularly large and nasty slug he had found on the bottom of his shoe, and she felt a vindictive satisfaction. "Therefore, you are of no further use to me."

He raised his wand and she froze, cold rushing over her as her eyes darted between his blank gaze and the tip of his wand pointed right at her heart. She wondered if she even had time to get out her own wand in an attempt to defend herself before he sighed, lowering it again.

"Or perhaps not. You may still be of some use to me yet in the future."

He stowed away his wand. She was hyperaware of her pounding heart and the sweat that had formed on her brow and upper lip, her whole body flushed but still very cold.

He whisked back to the fireplace, standing before it and peering thoughtfully into the flames. A long moment of silence stretched between them in which Cassie tried to regain her composure again, but her nerves were long since frayed, her mask chipped away by fear.

"You may leave," he said finally, not turning away from the fire. She scrambled to her feet, her legs wobbling. "Send the others back in, and tell your parents they may join if they so wish."

She turned without a word, fighting not to break into a sprint to get away from him faster, but she halted when he spoke once more.

"And Miss Alderfair?" Despite her best interest, she looked back over her shoulder, only to find his eyes boring into her with the intensity of a curse. "I do trust you know what will happen to you should you breathe a word of this discussion to anyone—particularly Albus Dumbledore."

She nodded, her throat dry. He waved a dismissive hand to her. "Until next we meet, Miss Alderfair."

She fled the room.

Cassie flinched when a knock sounded on her bedroom door several minutes later. She abandoned her half-filled trunk in favor of her wand, raising it and pointing it at the door as she called out a rusty, "Who's there?"

"Cassie, it's your mother," Eleanor's muffled voice came from the other side of the door. "May I come in?"

"Yes."

She dropped her arm as the door clicked open, though she didn't relax, not even when Eleanor crossed the room and swept her into her embrace.

"Oh, Cassie," she said, sounding on the verge of tears. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea your brother—"

"Would bring a murdering psychopath into the house?" Cassie finished, and Eleanor seemed to deflate a bit in her arms. "Yeah, I didn't think he was capable of it, either."

Eleanor pulled away, her startlingly blue eyes wet before they fell on the half-packed trunk sitting in the middle of the floor, and the subsequent mess her room had become in her attempt to pack her belongings as quickly as she could. "Are you leaving?"

She nodded. "Yeah. I have friends I can stay with…" She trailed off, uncertain.

Her first choice would have been Alice, but she didn't want to be a burden; the Fortescues weren't a particularly rich family, and Alice shared her house with not only her father and step-family, but also her aunt, uncle, and cousins, and Cassie wouldn't feel right if she imposed herself on their generosity for the rest of the holiday, even if it was for a little more than a week. Lily was out of the picture, too; she knew the redhaired witch's parents would be thrilled to see her again, but she also didn't want to add any more strain to Lily and her sister Petunia's relationship by having another openly magical person in the Evans household. She thought about Marlene, but instantly decided she didn't want to go there with a sharp pinch of guilt, though she tried to ignore it.

"I'll find somewhere," Cassie amended, shaking her head and tossing another shirt into her trunk. "I have some leftover birthday money; I can get a room at the Leaky Cauldron or something…"

Eleanor watched her sadly, but to her credit, she didn't seem angry at her; just worried.

Wordlessly, her mother began to help her pack, much to her surprise; she had expected an argument, a refusal to let her go, but instead they worked in silence, Cassie gathering all her things and Eleanor placing them neatly into her trunk, not even bothering to use magic.

After twenty minutes, her trunk was completely packed, and the two women sat on the bed, staring anywhere but each other, not quite ready to speak yet. But finally, it was Cassie who broke the silence.

"You're not going to try and stop me?" she asked quietly, looking up to her mother, who faced her with a rueful smile on her face.

"No," she said. "I know you've been unhappy here, especially after everything that has happened with your brother." A shadow flickered over her beautiful features before it was gone. "And I just want you to be happy."

Eleanor coughed slightly, trying hard to keep it together for her sake. She reached over and put her hand on top of her mother's.

"Mum, come with me," she said. Eleanor's lips parted in shock, but Cassie rushed on before she could say anything. "I know you hate it here as much as I do." She lowered her voice, glancing to the bedroom door. "I know you can't stand all the pure-blood rubbish, and what the Death Eaters are doing—what Will is doing." She squeezed her mother's hand, hard. "Please, come with me. We can leave it all behind, start over—I dunno. We can do something."

A tear slipped down Eleanor's cheek, quickly followed by another. "I love you, Cassie," she said, taking her daughter's face into her hands and seeming to drink in every detail she could find. "I love you, but I also love your father and brother. My place is here, as much as I'd love to be with you."

Eleanor swiped at a tear Cassie hadn't realized was falling, her touch a balm to the sore she could feel rubbing on her heart.

"You've always been so brave," Eleanor whispered. "So brave and so loving. I used to be afraid of what you would grow up to be, as stubborn and free-spirited as you were when you were young. I was relieved when you went to Hogwarts and I heard nothing from your professors about your behavior—but I always knew that that Invisible Girl, or whatever you called yourself, wasn't really you."

She paused, running her thumbs over Cassie's cheekbones and contemplating her next words. "Earlier, at the Blacks… I saw a side of you I hadn't seen in a long time. Not since you were a child. That free spirit was back; that same light in your eyes you used to have before you were taught how to repress it, and I blame myself for teaching you that. I don't know what caused it to come back, but I was overjoyed to see it. I want you to carry that light from now on, even if it means you can't stay here." She smiled softly. "That light is yours, Cassie. Don't ever let anything take that away from you."

Cassie nodded, beginning to cry silently as she wrapped her arms around her mother and buried her head in the crook of her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of her vanilla perfume and clutching onto this feeling, even if it was a bittersweet potion she was forced to swallow.

"I love you, Mum," she managed.

Eleanor stroked her hair, nodding. "I know, sweetie, I know. I love you, too."

After several minutes, but what still felt far too soon, they pulled apart, Cassie scrubbing at her face and Eleanor dabbing at her eyes before they stood, facing each other once more.

Cassie grabbed the leather jacket Eleanor had given her earlier that day before shrugging it on, having already shucked off the robes she'd been wearing previously and now dressed in plain Muggle attire once again. She pocketed her wand before looking around her room one last time, Eleanor waiting patiently by the foot of her bed.

"Have you decided where to go?" she asked. Cassie frowned, still not having thought of a solution to that particular dilemma. Her mind drifted to Remus, but then remembered Sirius mentioning something earlier to her about how they were all going to James's house for the remainder of the holidays…

"I have an idea," she said. "Er, do you know the Potters' address by any chance?"

Eleanor nodded, perplexed, though she didn't say anything about it. "They own a country estate down in Devon. I'm sure Euphemia wouldn't mind; she met you several times when you were still just a baby. She positively adored you." She raised a quizzical brow. "They have a son, don't they?"

"Yeah, his name's James," she replied. "We're, uh, friends, I guess. And his mates, too."

"Sirius included?" Cassie nodded, and Eleanor's brow inched higher. "Hm. Interesting."

"Don't get any ideas, we're just friends," Cassie said hastily. Eleanor pursed her lips. "Mum."

"All right, all right, no more ideas," she said, fighting to keep the smile from her face. "It's just that you've never had any boy friends before—"

"Mum!"

"It's a mother's duty to question these things!" she argued, but she was beaming at her daughter. "But if you insist…"

Cassie rolled her eyes. "Thank you."

She picked up Osbourne's cage from where it sat by the window. The dozing owl started when he was jostled, letting out a sleepy hoot before tucking his head back under his wing. "Er, how should I get there?"

Eleanor frowned, thinking. "I never mastered Side-Along Apparition over great distances, so if you'd rather get splinched—"

Cassie shuddered. "No, thanks. I'm good."

"Your father has sealed off his study for the night, so we can't use Floo powder—"

"Good to see how much he trusts those Death Eaters."

"I think you'd be better off taking the Knight Bus. It's not as fast as Apparition or Floo, but you'd still get there by morning."

Cassie made a face at this; she had never taken the Knight Bus before, but she'd heard accounts of it from various classmates, and she could only hope they had been exaggerating. Eleanor was right, though; it was her best option.

"Okay, I'll do that, then," she said.

Eleanor nodded. "I'll walk you to the edge of the property and we'll see if we can hail it down."

She pulled out her wand and gave it a wave, and Cassie's trunk and owl cage disappeared, now waiting for her at the bottom of the hill where the gate was. Eleanor took her hand and led her out of the room. Cassie cast one look back to it before she closed the door behind her and followed her mother.

The drawing room doors were shut when they walked past, and for that, she was glad. Even just thinking about You-Know-Who sent a shiver down her spine, and Eleanor squeezed her hand in reassurance as they ventured out into the dark night.

The air was bitingly cold, nipping at her exposed flesh, and a few frozen flakes fell from the sky, but other than that, it was nice out. Silence coated the world from up here, and only a few lights were still glowing in the cottages down below, the rest of the village asleep at such a late hour.

The two women weaved their way down the path, keeping up light-hearted conversation as they went, but Cassie could feel her heart growing heavier with each step, until finally falling silent when they reached the gate.

Osbourne was awake now, glaring at her with amber eyes from the indignity of being left out in the cold, but she ignored his poisonous look, turning back to her mother and embracing her again.

"Thank you," she whispered. Eleanor patted her back before pulling away and kissing her lightly on both cheeks, her lips cold to the touch.

"I'm always here for you, my love," she said. "Hopefully, we can be back together when summer starts."

Cassie nodded, her throat tight, but Eleanor just smiled. "Remember to stick your wand out so the bus knows where to come. Keep in touch."

"I will."

Eleanor blew her one last kiss before starting back up the path to the manor, her dark hair blending into the night as snow fell before her in a flurry of submission, coating her in tiny stars of ice like a queen. Cassie watched her until she faded out of sight before heaving a great sigh and pulling out her wand, sticking it out in front of her.

Not five seconds later she was staggering backwards into the gate, Osbourne letting out a panicked screech as a purple triple-decker bus roared to a halt before them, the brakes squealing and letting off a stench of burnt rubber from the tires as the doors swung open before her.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, the only operating bus for the magical community here in Britain to help stranded witches or wizards get to their destination, or no destination at all," a pompous voice greeted her. She shoved her hair out of her face and saw a portly, middle-aged man gazing down at her in bemusement. "All right, there, miss?"

"Never better," she mumbled, picking up Osbourne's cage while the man hopped down from the bus to get her trunk, huffing and puffing as he followed her through the doors. Cassie gaped when she stepped inside, feeling like she had just entered some sort of hotel rather than a bus.

Three decks of beds stretched above her, with a cut-crystal chandelier gleaming from the ceiling and giving a soft golden ambience to the interior. Some older men and women occupied a few of the beds, snoring softly in their sleep, save for one man who sounded like he was gasping for air every time he inhaled. A few other people were still awake and sitting in plush armchairs instead of beds, sipping hot chocolate and reading the paper or knitting, and she looked around in amazement before the conductor cleared his throat behind her.

"Oh, sorry," she said, stepping out of his way as he deposited her trunk on the floor. He pulled out a handkerchief to dab at his brow, his round face red from exertion.

"Not to worry, miss," he said, stretching out his arms. "Nothing like a little cardio to keep you awake, eh?"

"Er, right," she said. "How much would it be to get to Potter Manor in Devon?"

"Hey, Ernie!" the man called. Cassie looked over his shoulder to see the bus driver asleep in his seat, though at the man's voice, he jumped and looked around, cramming his bottle-like spectacles on.

"Huh, what?" he asked groggily. Cassie's confidence wavered a bit as his huge eyes finally focused on the conductor. "What is it, Harold?"

"This lass wants to get to Devon," he said. "How much?"

Ernie waved his hand, turning back to the wheel and grumbling something incoherent, but the conductor seemed to get it, facing her with a roll of his eyes. "He says it'll be eleven Sickles; thirteen if you want hot chocolate, and fifteen for a hot water bottle and a toothbrush."

"No, that's fine," she said, handing him eleven Sickles and few Knuts as a tip, and he gave her a little bow.

"Thank you, miss. I'm Harold Hancox, by the way. I'll be up front if you'll be needing anything."

Cassie thanked him and settled into an armchair, propping her feet up on her trunk and securing Osbourne's cage next to her. She looked out the window at the faint illumination of the gate in the lights from the bus, her eyes tracing out the Latin words etched there once more: Fortune favors the brave.

The moment was disrupted when the bus lurched forward. She cracked her head into the glass and pulled back with a groan, rubbing at her forehead as the bus trundled through the countryside at a ludicrous speed. It squeezed through impossibly tight spaces, objects leaping out of their path as they passed, and she was increasingly grateful that she hadn't gotten the hot chocolate, or else she'd probably be wearing it at that point.

She must have dozed off sometime during the night, for when next she saw, the sky was painted a rosy gold and Harold was leaning over her, gently shaking her awake. She sat up and discreetly tried to rub the dried drool off her chin, hoping he hadn't noticed.

"Here's your stop, miss," he said. "Potter Manor in Devon."

"Thank you, Harold," she said, gathering up Osbourne's cage again as the conductor tackled her trunk once more. She stepped out of the stuffy heat of the Knight Bus into the blissfully cold morning, taking a deep breath of the frosty air as Harold set down her trunk next to her and tipped his hat.

"Good day, miss," he said before jumping back into the bus. The vehicle disappeared in a blur of purple, leaving her alone on a small dirt road that overlooked a meadow; yellow now in the winter, but probably green and beautiful in the springtime.

Down the road she could see a large but quaint house, made of red bricks and gleaming white columns with a wraparound porch. Considering she couldn't see any other habitation, she guessed that that was Potter Manor. With Ozzy's cage in one hand and the handle of her trunk in the other, she started toward the house. She had to pause every now and then to rest, but she eventually made it after a half-hour, carefully maneuvering her trunk up the steps before dropping it at her side, hesitating outside the door.

It was painted a dazzling white to match the columns on the porch, and a grand wreath made with red and gold flowers decorated it, imitating the smaller ones hanging in the front windows. Despite the cheeriness of the décor, she was still nervous. She had never met James's parents before, and she hadn't even cleared coming over with James himself. He probably wouldn't be pleased; after all, he was supposed to be with the Marauders the rest of the holiday, and she hadn't even been invited. She bit her lip, thinking.

She was just about to turn around and walk away before the front door swung open, revealing a short woman with tidy grey curls and warm, dark skin. She peered at Cassie with an unreadable gaze before her face split into a sunny smile.

"You must be Cassie!" she said, pulling the younger girl in for a hug. Cassie just smiled nervously, nodding. "I'm Euphemia—Euphemia Potter. Your mother wrote me about an hour ago saying you would be here." She drew back and rubbed Cassie's arms. "She, er, explained as best she could. But no matter! You still would've been welcome, anyway. Now, come in; I've just been cooking some breakfast for you."

"Oh, you didn't have to do that," Cassie said awkwardly as Mrs. Potter waved her wand, lifting her trunk inside. She was taken aback by the older woman's chirpiness and scattered thoughts; she sounded exactly like James.

"It was no trouble, dear," she said fondly. "Come, I'll take you to the kitchen."

She deposited Ozzy's cage on top of her trunk before following Mrs. Potter deeper into the house, relaxing as she went. The house was cozy despite its size, smelling of cinnamon and apples, and it took Cassie a moment to realize how much it felt like a home. Alderfair Manor was big, but it was cold and imposing, and Grimmauld Place was dark and forlorn, more like a dank basement than a house. Potter Manor was the exact opposite, and she was slightly in awe as Mrs. Potter directed her to a seat at the kitchen table.

"I'm sorry if something didn't come out right," she fretted as she went over to the stove. "I typically give our house-elf Christmas off, since it's my favorite holiday and I enjoy doing the cooking from time to time, but I'm afraid I'm not as good as her."

"That's fine," Cassie said, her stomach rumbling from the smell of bacon and eggs. Mrs. Potter bustled over, setting down a plate before her, and it took all her willpower not to immediately pounce on the food.

"What would you like to drink, dear?" Mrs. Potter asked, flicking her wand and pulling a glass out of a cupboard. "Tea, milk, pumpkin juice?"

"Pumpkin juice is grand," she said, and Mrs. Potter nodded, filling up the glass before directing it to the table. "Thank you."

Mrs. Potter gave her a warm smile before setting about cleaning the kitchen, bewitching the dishes to start washing and drying themselves while she scrubbed countertops with magic and left Cassie to stuff her face in silence.

"Done?" she asked once Cassie had finished. Cassie nodded, getting up to take care of her dishes before she was shooed away. "No, no! I'll take care of them, don't worry!"

"Really, it's fine," Cassie said politely, but Mrs. Potter shook her head firmly.

"You're sweet, but you've had a long night, dear," she said kindly, taking the dishes from her. "I've set up a room for you upstairs at the end of the hall. James is still sleeping, and the other boys will be here about noon, but I'll tell them to leave you be."

"Thank you, Mrs. Potter," she said gratefully, and the woman gave her another brilliant smile.

"You are very welcome, dear. I'll be down here if you need anything."

Cassie returned her smile before leaving the kitchen and heading up the stairs, tired and sluggish again after eating. She found the room Mrs. Potter had been talking about and promptly threw herself down on the soft bed after closing the door, heaving a great sigh and staring up at the ceiling. Not even a minute later were her eyes closed and she was fast asleep, trainers still on and passed out on top of the covers.

"You think she'd notice if we stuck something up her nose?"

"Depends on what it is."

"What about a quill?"

"Nah, too big. It'd never fit."

"Sirius's pinky finger?"

"Keep my pinky finger out of this."

"Okay, Remus's pinky finger?"

"You idiots know I can hear you, right?"

Cassie opened her eyes to see four faces grinning down at her, not one of them looking ashamed at having been caught. She rolled her eyes, sitting up and scraping her hair out of her face as James spread his arms out wide.

"The Princess awakes! And not even a kiss was involved!"

She made a face at him. "Knowing you lot, you'd probably make me kiss a toad if I ever fell into an enchanted sleep."

"Don't give him any ideas," Remus warned, lounging against the windowsill in her room and giving her a wry grin. "How've you been, Cassie?"

She thought back to last night and snorted, though a tight feeling still twisted her gut all the same. "Still alive, so that's worth something, I guess."

"Damn, was my place really that bad?" Sirius asked, grinning at her from where he leaned against the door. All traces of his pure-blood image from the night before were gone, his impeccable robes traded back for a pair of ripped jeans and a plain white shirt under his leather jacket, and his slicked back hair reverted to its true state of unruly wavy locks, but his smirk was still the same.

"It was the posters," she assured him, and he barked out a laugh that made her genuinely smile, her heart warming as she took in the four Marauders around her. "You have no idea how good it is to see you all."

"Someone write that down," James said. "I think Alderfair just gave us a compliment."

They all chuckled when she shot him a rude hand gesture before Peter looked to her curiously. "Wait, Cass, why are you here?"

Just like that, her good mood evaporated, and she was back in the drawing room at Alderfair Manor, those red serpent eyes boring into her. She swallowed thickly, her throat too tight. She didn't want to tell them—she couldn't. The Dark Lord had warned her, but this was something she couldn't keep to herself. If she wanted to stay sane, she couldn't keep secrets.

"My brother…" She trailed off, clearing her throat while they looked on expectantly. "Will…he, uh, invited Death Eaters over to our house last night, while we were at your place." She gestured to Sirius. His jaw clenched, though he didn't say anything. "And, um…"

She hesitated, the wand pointed at her heart again, the red eyes…

"He was there," she whispered, shutting her eyes. "He was there."

"Who was there?" James asked slowly.

She opened her eyes, and Remus looked to her in horror.

"Good Godric, Cassie," he said hoarsely. "You don't mean…?"

She nodded once. "You-Know-Who."

She watched all the blood drain from their faces, their eyes wide with shock.

"Well, that settles it," Sirius said. His grey eyes were blazing, his face ashen, and he looked as if he were preparing himself for a fight. "I'm going to kill that bastard."

"You-Know-Who or Will?" Peter asked in a small voice.

Sirius scowled. "Both."

"Don't be stupid, Sirius," Cassie said, shaking her head. "There's nothing you can do."

"Like hell there isn't!" he snapped, and the vehemence in his voice startled her. "We can always fight. I heard there's people already doing it now—people who are against the Death Eaters. People like us!"

"Sirius," James said, uneasy. "We're still only in school, mate."

"Then I'll wait," the other boy growled. "As soon as I come of age, I'm going to fight."

Stunned silence met his proclamation, everyone trading apprehensive glances before the tension was diffused by Mrs. Potter calling them down for lunch. Without a backwards glance, Sirius stalked out of the room, leaving everyone else in a shocked wake.

"Well," James said, puffing out a nervous chuckle in an effort to make the mood light again, "that's one way to kick off the holiday."

Next Chapter: The Book

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