C. M. Black: Eyes of an Owl
Chapter XI: Tough days and taunting
It was nearly eleven o'clock when Harry returned to the Tower. He trudged through the portrait hole and cast his gaze over to where most of the fifth-year Gryffindors had settled themselves by the fire. Lazily, he waved. His sluggish pace continued across the room and up the stairs of the boys' dormitories, failing to return.
Cassy did not put much thought into it. She had tried to avoid thinking about him as much as possible. The desire to apologise to him was rising through the day. Each and every time she thought of his shocked face, or listened to the hateful sneers that followed him through the castle, she wanted to just throw up her hands and concede that he was right, that she was being a terrible friend. Yet, she meant what she had said to him too and apologising was to take back her scorn that he had earnt and Cassy was not quite ready for that. She was too stubborn, too certain in her action to back down.
Turning away from the fire that she had been staring blankly at as she thought, Cassy eyed Hermione's knitting. She had considered telling her about the futility, but even that seemed like an effort too grand for her. Instead, she settled for rummaging through the pile of hats her friend had made that evening, each one looking very much like the 'woolly bladders' Ron had described them as.
Across on the other side of the coffee table sat Neville, Ron, Dean, and Seamus, each of whom had spent the last hour practising the Vanishing Spell for Professor McGonagall. Several oranges had disappeared from the fruit bowl, but someone seemed to have summoned a fern and no one was willing to accept responsibility for it.
Cassy let out a low chuckle when Ron's apple split in half.
'I agree with you, you know,' said Hermione suddenly.
Cassy turned to her, her chin resting on the palm of her hand and her legs curled to the side. A book was perched on her lap and her wand lazily twisting in the other hand. Hermione sat stroking Crookshanks, his giant orange form stretched widely over her legs.
'Pardon?' asked Cassy.
'I agree with you about Harry. I think he needs to stop taking his anger out on everyone. It's driving me mad today too,' she said calmly.
Cassy regarded her for a moment. 'It is not so much his temper that bothers me. He could be as angry as he pleases, but to act as if we do not understand, as if we are not doing enough by supporting him... that is what makes me angry. I also don't like being accused of being a terrible friend, but he really has no regard for tact anymore.'
'He just needs to get to terms with it, you know how his temper can be. I am more surprised he's still survived an argument with you. How did he manage that?' joked Hermione. A half-smile pulled at her lips and Cassy could not return it.
'It wasn't so much of an argument as it was me hissing at him, but I no longer possess the energy to fight with him. It hardly seems worth it,' said Cassy tiredly.
Hermione frowned and shut her book. She shifted, turning in her seat to face Cassy better. Crookshanks sunk his claws into her leg in discontent, but Hermione simple continued to pet him without a thought. For a long time, she stared. It was as if her brain was conducting a check on itself, processing each thought into a phrase that might be acceptable. Eventually, she frowned deeper and opened her mouth.
'I am worried,' said Hermione.
'About?' asked Cassy.
'You,' she said.
'Me?' repeated Cassy in surprise.
'Yes, you,' said Hermione. 'You hardly sleep anymore and you pick at your food constantly. I'm glad you eat at all, but you need to eat proper food, not just binge on dessert and the sweets you have under your bed.'
Blinking owlishly, Cassy allowed the words to sink into her brain.
'Really,' continued Hermione, 'when was the last time you slept eight hours? You sleep after me and you're up before me every day too.'
'We have only been here three days,' said Cassy. Carefully, she avoided letting on how long she had been facing sleepless nights. It would only serve to make everyone worry. It was not fair for them and it was not something Cassy believed she could change.
Hermione gave her a sharp look, clearly stating her disbelief that it was a new development. Cassy said nothing in response and began twirling her quill in her hands once more, signalling her waning concentration.
'Just look after yourself, all right?' said Hermione with a small sigh.
Despite nodding her head in acceptance, Cassy found herself up in the early hours of the morning the next day. The dim gas lamp that hung beside the bathroom mirror did little to persuade her she did not look tired and worn. A few good potions would set her straight and all she would need to do was find somewhere to brew them quickly in one of her free periods. If she had looked tired, someone surely would have made a remark already.
With a sigh, Cassy exited the bathroom and began her normal routine for the day. In the common room, Hermione had cast another appraising eye over her and while Cassy pretended not to notice, she could not help but shift her face away from her friend, if just slightly. Thankfully, neither Neville, nor Ginny appeared to have veered onto Hermione's train of thought. Cassy took safety in knowing Luna was unlikely to mention her ill complexion – if she did indeed have one as her brain had become fixated on since the conversation – and Harry was too absorbed in his Divination homework to notice if he wanted to.
Ginny sat opposite him, listing off the strangest dreams she could conjure for him to add to his Dream Diary. Having given up any hope of believability in the subject long ago, he jotted them down eagerly and even Neville took ideas to add to his own entirely false homework.
'I just don't dream,' he said when Hermione raised her eyebrow at his chart. 'If you think mine are bad, you should look at Ron's homework.'
'I can imagine,' assured Hermione. 'It would have been much more worthwhile if you had all just dropped the subject like Cassy and I did in third-year.'
'Technically, I never began it to drop it,' interjected Cassy distantly. Her eyes had drifted down to Harry's right hand. The skin was itched red, flat, but with thin irritable lines arching across the back of it. 'Harry, perhaps you should wash your hand. It is starting to become inflamed.'
Harry turned to her in surprise. His eyes darted down and his left hand slowly drew away from the raw skin of his right.
'Yeah, it's fine. I... I must have just touched something I'm allergic to,' he said.
Cassy's eyes narrowed. Harry had hesitated. He was lying. She leant a fraction closer, trying to get a better look, but he quickly stuffed it under the table. Staring flatly, she watched Harry stare blankly at his plate. He could not eat without his right hand, but that meant showing Cassy whatever was wrong with it. Slowly, he glanced back up at her and when he saw she was still very much attentive his eyes flickered down the table, his plate pushed away as if he was finished.
With a sigh and a roll of her eyes, Cassy did return to her own meal.
'Cassy,' said Harry suddenly.
She peered up at him.
'I just - '
The bell rang loudly through the hall in warning for changeover to the first class of the day.
Harry's mouth closed. He turned away, ducked beneath the table to scoop up his bag before he left for Divination with Neville in tow. Cassy and Hermione bid farewell to Ginny and set off to Ancient Runes.
The day followed much like the last, filled with work and homework, hardly any time to pause and converse beyond it, lest groans emit to signal the realisation half of the discussion had transferred onto their parchments, mid-way through their essays. Transfiguration burdened the Gryffindors with more homework to counter the Vanishing Spell they had just learnt, and Professor Grubbly-Plank was not as lax as Hagrid had been with work. He was less concerned with extras and more interested in what he could show them while they were there. Not being overly literate himself, Hagrid never felt inclined to set the long research projects like Professor Grubbly-Plank had done, set for the end of the month. With Ancient Runes no better, the evenings were full and it took Cassy well into the next evening to finish what she had been given that Wednesday.
Cassy and Hermione sat on one of the plush sofas in the Gryffindor common room. Books were piled between them, scraps of paper poking between the page and Crookshanks nestled somewhere in-between. With great relief, the two sighed heavily at the same time. The essays were slipped onto the coffee table in front and they heaved grateful groans as their bones cracked as they stretched and turned out of the position they had held for hours.
'It's only seven,' said Hermione as she eyed to clock on the mantelpiece. 'I can still get in some knitting.'
Cassy made a non-committal noise from the back of her throat. The crook of her arm rested on the bridge of her nose, dulling the ache that had long since risen in the dim light of the fire.
'I will be back soon. Make sure no one takes my seat,' she said to Hermione.
A hot chocolate from the kitchens was exactly what Cassy needed; in her opinion, there was very little they could not fix and a growing headache was certainly one of them. That and, she thought to herself as she squinted at the bright reflections of the marble staircases, she was never allowing Hermione to sit closer to the lamp and take up the good light for another three hour study session. She was merely relieved her work was finally caught up. There was no mercy to break the students in for the year; it was if the teachers had expected them to do half the work over the summer ready for the autumn term, and while Cassy had, it did not mean she had the time to right the foot long essays each night. To her knowledge, Harry had not even started his homework.
Cassy stared distantly across the entrance hall, her glazed eyes slowly but still surely taking in the movements of the passing portraits as the staircases moved themselves at their leisure, with her feet firmly planted on the end. Distantly, low voices sounded, male and most likely older years from their dulcet tones. Lazily and disinterested, Cassy turned to peek at them from the corner of her eye. She heaved another sigh.
Shandy was on an opposing staircase, surrounded by four boys, each with a boyish grin that she had long since learnt only spelt trouble. There was a loud, wordless chortle when Shandy's dark eyes finally caught sight of her. Cassy did not dignify him with so much as a glance, but her ears were open and her eyes were watching the five shadows flicker in the candlelight, following each one as the boys began to move.
'Black,' called Shandy.
When Cassy failed to reply, one of the boys laughed, 'She doesn't want to speak to you, Ben.'
'Don't be so shy, Black,' he said, but Cassy ignored him once more. 'Hey, I am trying to be friendly, I wanted to let you know that the Slytherins have been speaking about you a lot lately.'
'Oh, yeah,' said a boy in a deep, Welsh accent. 'We've heard loads about you today.'
The boys broke out into giggles amongst themselves and yet Cassy still did not bite their bait. She began walking down the steps, her hand trailed along the bannister, making her descent look leisurely, as though they were not even there.
'I was curious about your Muggle mother. It's all a great secret really, isn't it? No one really knows what happened, but I have to say I was shocked when I heard she killed herself!'
Cassy almost had to halt to let the words register.
'Your cousin, Draco Malfoy, he's been telling us all about her,' said one of the boys excitedly. Another pushed him on the shoulder, moving to lean over the railings too.
'He had a lot to say about you, Black. Took him long enough to burst,' said another.
Cassy continued to walk.
'I must say, a madwoman and a serial killer, what a sad combination you are. No wonder even Malfoy has given up on you,' rang Shandy's drawling voice. It echoed up and down the vast space of the entrance hall, sounding to the high ceilings a dozen floors up. ' "Emotionally unstable", that is what the Prophet called you last year, isn't it?'
'You do not wish to test that theory with me,' said Cassy coolly. She only paused to stare when her feet reached stable ground. For several seconds, they held each other's gaze, Shandy's friends cooed and laughed around him until he turned his back swiftly and continued upwards. They trailed after him, their chortles still audible even when out of sight.
Despite her feet dutifully carrying her to the kitchens, Cassy's mind was whirling in another direction entirely. Her mother, her blonde, sickly mother; Jane Lowe: the Muggle. An image flashed in her mind. Her mother, her long gown down to her knees, her long hair drifting over her shoulders, becoming dark as it did, her face becoming sharper and suddenly it was Cassy, mad, deranged, fearful, unstable, drowning in a sea she did not understand and could not begin to, wailing for a man who did not want her. Cassy shuddered. Her mother embodied ignorance and dependency, to weaknesses she had always feared because of her.
It did not matter, she told herself as she tickled the pear on the portrait. Her mother was dead and gone. Her mistakes were not Cassy's to right. It was irrelevant now. However, what was not, was Draco. Her hands shook with anger and her lips pulled painfully, desperately trying to fold down into a snarl as she tried to politely request a drink from the house-elves.
Everything changes when you are no longer friends, thought Cassy. Astoria had told her Draco had spoken to Shandy, someone he claimed to loathe the year prior. Suddenly they were allies too.
Her parents were a topic she never discussed and had never discussed growing up. They had been taboo, simply out of the question, and Cassy had only crossed that line once when she chose to disclose her worst fears to Harry two years ago.
'Look where that got me,' she scoffed quietly to herself. The hot chocolate was on the side next to her, steam swirling from the mug carelessly.
Her hands were itching. They flexed and writhed at her sides with the desire to stalk down to the Dungeons, grab Draco and shake him until his mind was as addled as hers. She wanted to know what he thought he was doing and where he had got the idea it was all right at all. For all of their fights, Cassy had never once dreamed of doing such things, but perhaps she was too kind. Perhaps Gryffindor had changed her more than she expected. Perhaps she was the one who was simply not up to the standards she should have been. After all, no one would want to befriend and follow the word of someone who set herself up so openly.
A small voice, Neville's perhaps, in the back of her head scolded her for thinking as such. She sighed deeply into her drink. The house-elves looked on with nervousness, fearing she was dissatisfied with their work, but Cassy did not see it. She was still thinking too hard to notice them flutter.
Her mother had not killed herself. She had become ill one winter and bore no will to fight it. Even magic could not preserve life unfailingly. Guilt grew in Cassy's stomach. It had been the same year that Cassy had last visited, the very same that she was promised never to return.
The cup clattered noisily on the counter. This type of thinking was not productive, she told herself over and over. She knew nothing of her mother. There could have been a thousand reasons that lead to what happened. She knew nothing of her mother. It could have been anything, she could have been of weak mind and easily influenced and subject to an unsteady life anyway. She knew nothing of her mother. She knew nothing at all.
She pushed those thoughts aside. They were irrelevant.
Slowly, Cassy let herself sink to the floor. Her back was against the cabinet and the house-elves fussed around her. Time began to tick away, the clock changing position faster than she could have liked. If she could have sat there for the night she would have, but she did not think it wise to trudge back to collect her things the next morning. The questions would be worse than the effort now.
There were many things Cassy did not come to terms with as she sat in place. Many were things she doubted she ever could. Many were things that had bothered her, thoughts that had drifted somewhere at the back of her mind always and so were never surprising when they surfaced, but also raised the question of why and where they had come from. Her mother was always amongst one of those, her father was too for a time. Alphard had never been, but he too was surely finding his way into the drifting thoughts she could never settle.
Draco was not there though. Her hollow sadness soon gave way to burning anger and she merely wanted to hit him, to shove him to the floor and swing her arms until his face looked as terrible as she felt. Not that she had the time for that, it would take far too long to achieve, although she was sure she had the effort buried somewhere within to make a start.
Astoria was sure to all ready know and would report back on who had said what soon enough. Stephen would undoubtedly hear from either Astoria or Shandy before Cassy had a chance to see him. She expected the whole school to know by the end of the week. Damage control was essential. She wanted to speak to Zabini anyway, it was merely a means of finding an opening.
What bothered her almost equally to the lie was Shandy himself. Cassy had not known him to have friends. She had seen him many times with associates, students who laughed at what he said with no real amusement, but the smiles of these boys had reached their eyes. They pushed and shoved, they joked and laughed with one another easily; they were friends and Shandy was at the centre. Never had he been so open with his teasing before either. It was always by herself one on one, or in the presence of Stephen, who Shandy seemed to regard as an extension of himself more often than not and so did not matter. He had changed. Cassy was unwilling to put her finger on how far and why.
With her mind successfully back in work-mode to tackle the mystery that was her irritating acquaintance, Cassy finally set off for Gryffindor Tower once again. It was as if the anger and sadness were squashed beneath her new thought, taking second priority to her cross curiosity. Cassy was still debating how he might have gained friends since spring when she entered the final stretch towards the portrait of the Fat Lady. Outside it stood two figures, both of whom turned at the sound of her footsteps.
Cassy waved her hand dismissively. 'I all ready assumed you were trying out for the team, Ron. No need to hide your broom.'
Ron, who had hastily shoved the Cleansweep behind his back at the sight of her, blushed deeper and relaxed. Beside him, Harry frowned.
'Are you all right?' he asked quickly.
'Why do you ask?' she said, only then stopping.
'Your voice is tense,' he said. 'That means something is wrong.'
Cassy was unsure what exactly her tense voice would sound like, or even how Harry would hear it, but she did not ask. Instead, Cassy continued to stare flatly at him and said, 'Why would you care?'
It was unfair, harsh, and unneeded, and Harry flinched. Cassy felt some of the residual anger slip away, yet she said nothing and instead turned to the Fat Lady, stating the password as she looked between her and Harry interestedly. Before Cassy could step through more than a step, however, Harry had grabbed her arm. He followed in after her and the door creaked shut.
'What's happened?' he asked, now scowling. 'Has someone upset you?'
Instead of replying, Cassy turned to stare at his hand on her arm in contempt. Then, there on his hand, was a small, raised series of bumps. They stretched across the back of his hand, raw at the centre and certainly shaped like letters with their sharp lines.
'What is that on your hand?' she demanded.
'I'll tell you if you answer me first,' retorted Harry.
Cassy pursed her lips. 'Draco is telling the Slytherins about my mother.'
Harry's grip slackened in surprise.
'Your hand,' she reminded quickly.
'Umbridge had been making me write lines with a quill that uses my blood as ink,' he said in one breath. 'Why would Malfoy - ?'
'A Blood Quill?' hissed Cassy. 'Harry, you have to tell someone!'
'I can't. Dumbledore has enough to deal with,' he said.
'You have spent all summer scornful towards him, you don't care that much for what is easy,' she said with narrowed eyes. 'You do not want Umbridge to think you are a coward for running to authority against her, do you?'
Harry opened his mouth and then closed it again. 'It will only make things worse if I do. You said it yourself, she was placed here by the Ministry. Fudge thinks I am a liar. Nothing I say will have her shifted and so it will only make things worse on myself if I tell.'
'You have a point,' sighed Cassy, regretfully.
'What do you mean that Malfoy is telling people about your mum?' he asked again.
Cassy shook her head. 'I don't want to discuss it,' she said. Hearing the words swirl around in her own mind was bad enough, but to hear them from someone else's mouth was far worse. It made it sound too real.
Harry shifted on the spot uncertainly. For a moment, Cassy stared at the ground and the pair said nothing to one another, but neither left. Biting her lip, Cassy wondered if it was the moment she should tell him how she felt; it was not ideal, but timing never would be and it was best she got it out of the way. It would only drive her mad and he surely knew all ready. She should have steeled her nerves and kept calm around Chang if she wanted it to remain a secret. It was then or never.
'Harry, I need to tell you something,' she said, squaring her shoulders.
'Yeah?'
Cassy drew in a deep breath, 'Harry, I -' She was drowned out by deafening jeering.
They both turned their heads. The portrait hole had opened only feet from them and Fred and George had jumped through, dressed in orange with a bronze glow to their freckled skin. The common room was alight with laughter.
'Step aside, children, step aside,' they called, pushing their way past Cassy and Harry.
'Madam Pomfrey gave us the all clear, but we might be stuck like this for several days,' announced George.
'It has given us a new idea for instant glowing tan! You can look fabulous all year round,' said Fred, with a wink to a group of sixth-year girls.
Many students laughed and Cassy was not sure what she had missed before arriving back in the common room, a crowd of pre-gathered students were cackling near the twins all ready, but she found her confidence suddenly gone. Relief flared in her stomach, she had never been so grateful for an interruption or else she would have made a huge mistake.
'What were you saying?' asked Harry.
'Nevermind,' said Cassy. 'It was not that important.'
It was useless anyway, he would never feel the same. If he all ready knew he had not confronted her, so he would not feel the same, yet she was more interested in the innocent expectancy on his face. He did not know. She was certain of it now and she had very nearly made a huge mistake.
When she awoke the next morning, Cassy felt more alive than she had for a long time. She had slept early and was up after Hermione. Her friend peered curiously at her from the corner of her eyes when she believed Cassy to be looking away and she smiled slightly to herself as if pleased.
Harry had greeted her at breakfast. She parroted it back to him. Neville's eyes lit up at the exchange and he sank comfortably between them at the table for the first time in days.
Friday dragged much like the rest of the week, with promises of more late nights studying and endless streams of stressed chatter from the Gryffindors as they all struggled to manage their time. Cassy had always read more than anyone, with the exception of Hermione, but it had always been effortless. There was something easy about working when it was done for her own curiosity rather than a forced ethic of panicked cramming as the teachers began to realise how much content their syllabus had failed to teach the firth-years time after time.
It was a welcomed relief Friday evening when Cassy walked down the sloping hills towards the Quidditch pitch with Ginny after dinner. Although Ginny had not known Ron was auditioning for the House Team until she saw him garbed in leather his broom nervously in his hands down on the pitch, she had insisted Cassy go with her to watch. She had tried to coach Neville and Hermione away too, but they both insisted they stayed to work; Cassy had a suspicion Hermione merely wanted to continue her knitting for the night.
At least a dozen people stood below on the pitch. They were spread, despite appearing in a gaggle, not speaking to one another, but occasionally glancing to judge each other's weaknesses and strengths as each prepared to be called up. In another group was the current Gryffindor team, set to negotiate membership of those auditioning as a whole, although none looked keen.
Cassy could not tell how anyone was performing, with the exception of one exceedingly poor try-out that saw the young girl leave the stadium in tears before the final throw. Ginny hissed and mumbled beside her, too quiet for Cassy to follow. They whispered to one another, carefully blocking the sound with their hands as the other spectator Gryffindors crossed their fingers for good luck for their friends. Cassy laughed, throwing a hand over her mouth to stop it echoing across the pitch. Beside her, Ginny grinned cheekily and Cassy nudged her in reprimand.
They giggled and mumbled the whole way through and as Ron was finally drawing up to the line, it struck Cassy that she was actually enjoying herself. It had been a time since it had been so effortless. It was as if the concerns had melted away, or taken secondary importance to what was happening, even though that was merely Quidditch, which Cassy often found exceedingly dull in itself unless friends were playing. She smiled at Ginny as she stuck her fingers in her mouth and whistled for her brother.
Even from the distance it was easy to tell Ron was bright red, blending superbly with his crimson jersey. Katie Bell doubled around the pitch with a Quaffle in hand to shoot.
'Only when he thinks no one is looking! Oh, Ron, that was a great save. If only you did that the other three times,' exclaimed Ginny with a groan. She turned to Cassy. 'Shocking, wasn't he? There were definitely two better, but Vicky Frobisher has too many clubs, she'll be a liability for sure.'
'Oh?' said Cassy, ,hoping she sounded somewhat enthusiastic for the sport.
Ginny seemed not to notice. Her attention was firmly on the following two competitors, her mind cataloguing how they compared to her brother, certainly, but Cassy had not watched to judge and she felt her mind drifting once more. She nearly missed the entire reason she was there.
When the final player touched ground, the stands fell silent. They could not hear what was said, but as Angelina threw out her arm in Ron's direction, Ginny let out a thunderous applause. Cassy followed suit and somewhere down below, she could see Fred and George do the same, in a delayed, stunned sort of way. They passed Ron, clapped him on the back and continued out of the stadium before anyone else had begun to move.
Cassy and Ginny found Ron in the same position he had been when they had started their descent. He turned to them slowly, as if in shock, before a large grin pulled on his lips.
'I'm the Keeper,' he said to them.
'So we've heard,' said Ginny. 'Congratulations.'
'I'm the Keeper,' repeated Ron. His smiled slipped. 'I'm the Keeper. Why did she pick me? Everyone was better than me.'
'Obviously not, or Angelina wouldn't have picked you,' said Ginny and flicked her red hair over her shoulder.
Her words seemed to cheer Ron up immensely and cut any growing self-doubt off before it could blossom. Despite having been present, Ron re-explained the entire try-outs to them, going over each person's attempts and growing steadily more confident as they approached the Tower that he had performed exceptionally. By the time the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open, he was giddy with excitement.
The common room was alive with chatter. Someone had all ready spread the word and students reached out to pat Ron's back as he passed, spreading congratulations as they made their way over to the small table Neville and Hermione were seated at in the corner.
'You made it then?' said Hermione with a bright smile.
'Yeah, somehow,' said Ron, beaming.
'Well done! I told you you could,' she said.
'That's great,' praised Neville.
'Where did Fred and George disappear to anyway? They left quickly,' remarked Ginny, but Ron just waved his hand.
'They said they were going to "acquire" some Butterbeer to celebrate.'
'Not from the kitchens, I hope,' said Hermione warningly.
Ron shrugged. 'It's one night and I certainly don't mind!'
As the team began to draw back into the room, the noise only increased and Hermione had undone her knitting for the third time before she gave in and took refuge in the dormitory for the night. Not a moment after she had vanished, cheers broke out as Fred and George held up the bottles they had scavenged from downstairs and it was not long before Lee Jordan carried down his radio to add to it all.
Soon, Cassy found herself seated beside Dean. He looked on in amusement, half-finished homework in his lap and one ear listening out for Ron's retelling of his triumph.
'I'm glad he's got it. He was acting so weird leading up to it that I thought it had to be the try-outs, even though he didn't tell us he was going for it,' said Dean. 'I remember last summer how that was always the position he wanted to play, you know, when we all played Quidditch? I figured he'd go for it.'
'I do not recall playing,' said Cassy, her chin on the palm of her hand, 'but I had a feeling he would audition too. I don't think he wanted anyone to know in case he failed'
Behind her was a loud choking noise and suddenly something wet and red rolled across the stone floor, stretching from one end to the other. Cassy craned to get a better look. Her eyes followed it from one end to the other, noting with a distinct distaste that it was, in fact, attached to someone's head. With their mouth wide open, a third-year boy stood with his tongue no less than twenty-foot long. Fred and George howled with laughter on either side, their hands full of bright sweets.
'Honestly,' breathed Cassy. She was relieved Hermione was not there to see it.
Behind the boy, the portrait hole opened and Harry stepped through, his hair more dishevelled than normal and his lips parted ever-so-slightly, as if panting softly. Immediately, his eyes scanned the room and honed in on Cassy within seconds. The crowd was forcibly parted and his hand wrapped tightly around Cassy's arm and she was pulled from the chair before she could utter a parting word to Dean.
The noise of the room would mask what Harry urgently wanted to say, but it did not stop Cassy from having other ideas. She pulled his hand back towards her, her eyes raking over the tiny pearls of blood seeping from the sharp lines etched into the skin.
'You need to wash this,' she said as he tried to wriggle out of her grip.
'Yeah, all right, but listen,' he said quickly, 'when I was in Umbridge's classroom I got this weird feeling, I don't know what it was, but it's like the ones I get when Voldemort's nearby. I think she might be being controlled by him.'
Without missing a beat, Cassy said, 'I think she might just be vile, but do go on.'
'I'm serious. I got this weird twinge like I always do. Something's wrong with her,' he said.
'If you are worried, then perhaps take your concerns to Professor Dumbledore,' she said. There was a faint scepticism that had leaked into her voice. The world was not comprised of Good and Death Eaters. The pain was concerning, but with the other twinges Harry had been having over the summer, it could possibly have been a coincidence and she voiced this as Harry shook his head.
'I can't tell Dumbledore. I'll ask Sirius, he'll have an idea,' he said quickly.
'Fine, but watch what you write in case the post is intercepted. Imagine the news story that would emerge from that,' agreed Cassy, dully.
Harry peered thoughtfully over her head for a moment. Cassy moved to take a step back, their whispering over and the closeness of their bodies noticeable even amongst the shifting crowd. She managed only half a step before Harry seized her arm again.
'I'm sorry,' he said suddenly, his eyes narrowed seriously. 'I'm sorry for snapping at you the other day. It's just... I find the disbelief difficult to deal with, especially as everyone seemed to believe me before summer and now they jump at the first chance they get to knock me down and discredit me. Umbridge is... Impossible. She's disgusting.'
Cassy knew all of that. She had long since recognised the reasoning, but it did not mean she had liked it.
'Just try not to snap at me again and I will try to work out a way to get more people to believe you,' she said.
'Deal,' he agreed eagerly.
'We have to do it my way,' she said pointedly. 'No more of this hurling abuse nonsense.'
Harry shrugged and grinned. 'I'll try, but I make no promises.'
Some heavy emotional bits from Cassy. It is difficult to get a balance between dealing with what is going on and having her emotionally connected enough. There is a lot going on with her, I mean, Harry is basically angsting through the entire book, so Cassy can have a little give on that.
The actual plot should begin getting a move on soon as Harry starts getting his brain together so we can move along.
I have had some lovely reviews so far, please keep them coming!
Thanks!