musical mood: cough syrup - glee cast (it's the better version guys I swear)

"You are too young to be the child that woman was pregnant with when we last saw Bartemius." Eloise said, as the house elf called Lucky passed two cups of tea to Cass and Connor. She had shifted her language to English the moment it became evident to her that Connor did not speak French, though she had a thick accent that Cass imagined Connor would have difficulty understanding.

Cass nodded, taking a sip from her drink, unsure how to respond to that. "My mother's name is Diana. Was Diana."

Eloise scrunched her nose, and a pool of defensiveness built up in Cass. She hadn't known her mother, of course, but the way Eloise and Marius had treated her father and the woman he loved over something as pathetically irrelevant as blood status...it was disgusting. She only hoped Eloise didn't realise that Connor was a muggle. He wasn't doing very well in concealing his lack of magic, unfortunately, as he was staring at Lucky with wide, horrified eyes, though he said nothing about it.

"And...Diana, where is she now?"

"She's dead."

"I'm sorry to hear that." She pressed her lips together.

"Where is Marius?" Cass pressed, referring to her father's father. Her grandfather, who was notably absent.

"He's...ill." Was all she said, and clearly didn't want to elaborate on the subject.

"I'm sorry to hear that." Cass repeated what Eloise had said, the same cold tone in her voice.

Her grandmother shook her head. "There is no need to be." She glanced around, brown eyes flickering behind her for a moment, before she continued to speak, her voice lowered. "And...my son. How is he?"

"Dead."

"No." She whispered, her wrinkly skin going even paler than it already had been. Cass blinked - why would Eloise care? She had exiled him from her life years ago, why pretend she cared now that he was dead? If she had loved him still, she would've reached out in the years he was alive.

Connor shifted in his seat, his cup of tea untouched.

Cass took another sip of hers, frowning at the odd taste. The French apparently liked their tea funky, she supposed. Not that she would say anything on the subject.

"I'm sorry." Was all she said as the liquid poured down her throat. "He died a little over a year ago. That's why I'm here - why we're here. We...need a place to stay."

"You do not have new guardians?"

"They're shit." Connor said - the first thing he had uttered since he'd entered the massive home that Eloise resided in. "Mine are, anyways. My mum kicked me out, and my sister and her husband always fight. They hit each other and everything. I can't imagine Cass's living situation is much better."

"Catherine kicked you out?" Cass turned to stare at Connor, who shrugged. She didn't want to comment on her own guardian, Moody, who she actually quite liked, though it had taken ages to warm up to him. It was a shame, that they'd never see each other again. She suddenly felt a stab of guilt in her stomach, an aching pain that didn't simmer as the seconds went by, but instead only increased.

"Why do you think I moved to Islington? I defended Saoirse and Brian, and bam, I was booted out. Oh, by the way, Brian was kicked out too. Apparently he has a boyfriend out in Fort Williams, and mum hates gays."

Cass remembered when Brian had taken her to Fort Williams when she had run away the first time, and the longing look in his eye when he spoke of the mate he had been meeting. Perhaps that was the boyfriend.

Wow, she sure made a habit of running away, when things got tough. "I'm sorry. I didn't know that."

He shrugged again. "It's my fault. I never told you."

Eloise cleared her throat, and the two both directed their attention back to her.

"Sorry." Cass said, taking another gulp of her tea. Connor mimicked her, sipping rather obnoxiously on it. "No, we're sort of on our own. We...we can't be in Great Britain right now. I'm sure you're aware of the war that's brewing. We can't be a part of it."

"You're welcome to stay as long as you please. Both of you." She smiled, though it seemed forced, and Cass frowned.

The pain in her stomach grew worse.

"Thank you." Connor said, his smile seeming equally as forced as Eloise.

Then, he began to cough.

And cough.

And cough.

Cass reached over to help him, to see what was wrong, if he was choking on something somehow, but she was stopped by the aching in her stomach shooting up to her throat. Her breathing grew shallow in almost an instant, air only just barely being able to push through the passage in her throat, as it closed up.

It was just like her first year, when she had been poisoned.

Then it hit her.

Eloise had poisoned her. Her own grandmother.

Through the tears that began to blur in her vision, she saw Eloise stand up, and walk away without so much as a second glance at the two as they both collapsed onto the floor.

The last thing Cass heard before she blacked out from the poison coursing through her veins, did she hear Eloise speak, not to her, but to someone in another room. "I did everything you asked. Now give me my husband back."

*

Cass's eyes stung as she opened them, attempting to adjust to the light of the dimly lit room, illuminated by just a small window in the corner, that had pearly white blinds covering it, only letting in the tiniest bit of light. She was on her back, limbs spread out like an eagle, and when she moved to push herself up into a sitting position, did she notice one of her hands had a chain on it, a chain that was attached to the floor with a massive steel ring holding it in place.

"What the fuck?" She muttered, rubbing her aching head with her free hand - her bad one, as she struggled to remember where she was and what had happened.

She could do the latter, as it all settled in to her, what had just occurred. She had been poisoned, poisoned by her own grandmother, her own flesh and blood.

She had little luck with the former - as she was unable to even guess where she may be.

Given the slope of the wooden ceiling and the beams that ran across it, Cass figured she must be in an attic. Somewhere she'd might have been before, as while she didn't recognize where she was, it felt vaguely familiar. Like a bell was ringing in the back of her head.

Her throat ached, likely from the poison that had been slipped into that blasted tea. The tea that Connor had drunk too. Connor had been poisoned. Connor. Fuck. Where was Connor?

He wasn't in the attic, she figured out as soon as she whipped around, shouting out his name as loud as she could as she attempted to peer past the crevices and cardboard boxes that lined the walls. "Connor? Connor, are you in here?"

But, someone did respond to her. Just not Connor.

"Your friend isn't here."

"What did you do to him?" Cass turned to face Barty as he emerged from the corner, his wand in hand. She could tell just by looking at him, that it was the real him this time, not the Bond connecting them, but he was truly there, only feet before her.

Had she not been chained up like a wild animal, she would've lunged across the room and strangled him, not caring one bit if it affected her as well.

Barty twirled his wand in his fingers, messing with the wood. "So much concern over a muggle. You're truly pathetic, Cassiopeia."

"Where is he?" She demanded once more, trying and failing to rise to her feet, as the chain held her down. She clawed at the thing, using all the strength her tiny body could handle, but it wasn't enough. She was stuck, and Barty was walking closer to her.

When he didn't respond, she tried again. "Where are we?"

"Does it matter?"

"How did you find us?"

He shook his head, a laugh escaping his lips. "You're so stupid. You really think you could run away from me? It's impossible. Just because I couldn't tell where you were from the Bond on its own, you have a magical trace on you, that only amplifies when international. You were beyond easy to track down because of that. Besides, I knew what you were up to. I listened to your conversation with that muggle, about finding your grandparents. It's a good thing I got to them both first, yeah?"

"You kidnapped Marius, then? And blackmailed Eloise into doing your bidding?"

"Essentially." He shrugged. "I killed them both, after. We can't have the world knowing I'm alive."

"You're a monster." She hissed.

"Perhaps." He shrugged once again. "But if I'm a monster, what are you, putting your friend in danger?"

"What are you on about?"

"Check this out." He reached into the pocket of his robe, and tossed a newspaper over towards her.

With her free hand, she grabbed the paper, and opened it. To her bafflement, a picture of her and her father was plastered on the front page - one taken when she was at most 10 years old.

CROUCH HEIR MISSING, PRESUMED DEAD

Rita Skeeter

Cassiopeia Crouch, aged sixteen, and the only surviving child of the late Bartemius Crouch Sr., is presumed to be dead in what is believed to have been a suicide. Bartemius Crouch is known for having snuck his death eater son of the same name out of Azkaban prison, faking his death and hiding him in his attic for thirteen years. Barty eventually broke out, invaded Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry after assuming the identity of ex-Auror Alastor Moody. Barty eventually murdered his father, before being caught and suffering the dementors' kiss. It is unknown how much of this plot Cassiopeia was aware of at the time of its occurrence.

On the morning of June 27th, Cassiopeia and her muggle friend, Connor Moore, also sixteen, were reported missing by their guardians. Their last known location was a muggle hotel Paris, France, where they were traced by the usage of magic.

While no body has been recovered, considering the lack of information on the two's whereabouts, officials have confirmed they believe the two had committed a suicide pact. It is said that Cassiopeia's mental health took a severe turn for the worse after the murders of her father and classmate Cedric Diggory, which resulted in a several week long stay at St. Mungo's mental institution, while Connor Moore is said to have had erratic behaviour in the past, and allegedly had a "severe obsession" with Cassiopeia, according to his eldest sister, Mauve Moore.

Both Cassiopeia and Connor's guardians, Alastor Moody and Catherine Moore, refuse to comment.

French muggle and wizarding police alike are on the search for the two.

Cass set the paper down on the floor, her hands trembling as she did. "They think we're dead?"

"They aren't wrong."

"...What?"

"Sister, you really think after the stunt you pulled, I'd allow you to go unpunished? When I forced Eloise to poison you two, I made sure the muggle's was lethal. The Moore kid is dead, and what a relief that is."

It was like the world had crumbled before her. "You're lying." She shook her head. "Tell me where Connor is."

"I already have." Came the chilling response.

"You're lying," she repeated, her attempts to rise futile, her emotions spiralling out of control as her body betrayed her. Desperately, she yanked at her restraints, the cold metal piercing her flesh, allowing crimson streams of blood to flow down her wrist. "Where is Connor? Tell me where he is!" Cass's anguish escalated, a sob escaping her lips. Only then did she realize, tears had started to stream down her face, revealed only when her attempts to draw a breath proved futile, leaving her gasping for air.

She couldn't breathe.

Had she been poisoned once again? No, what motive could he possibly have this time?

"He's dead." Barty repeated, and Cass knew, deep down, he was telling the truth.

"Prove it."

"You want me to bring you his corpse? Sorry, sister, he's at the bottom of the English Channel as we speak. I did bring you this, though." He reached into his pocket once again, and threw at her the bracelet Connor had worn since he was a child, it landing on the wooden floor with a clang.

She sunk to her knees, letting out a cry of pure anguish, the sound echoing off the walls as she screamed, cried, begged, spouting pure gibberish. "I...I don't believe you." She eventually sputtered out, her breath caught in her throat. Spots formed in her vision, and she continued to claw at her restraint.

Barty tilted his head, eyeing her with what appeared to be genuine pity, but only for a brief second, until the corners of his mouth curled up once more. "Oh dear sister, why would I lie to you?"

*

Eight year old Cass sat on the swing of the only park in Stromness, not using it as a plaything, but instead as a seat to read her book. Her father had sent her outside, demanding she play. As if. She had no idea why, the sun wasn't out, it was chilly and dreary, per usual, and she had no one to play with anyways. Her father knew that, but she also knew better than to argue with him.

Besides, she preferred her books to using her imagination anyways. It was nice, getting sucked into the paper, allowing the words to consume her. Maybe it was using her imagination, in a way, allowing herself to be transported into another world, one where her father wasn't a jerk and where she went on adventures with friends. Maybe she'd have friends eventually, when she went to Hogwarts, but even at eight years old, she deemed it unlikely.

"Hello."

She looked up from her book, frowning. A boy had sat down on the swing next to her. Connor Moore. She knew him - he'd moved with his family from Ireland across the street from her last week. She'd seen Norman Wilder take his lunchbox on the first day of school, and called him a mean name. Cass hadn't interfered, though she had wanted to, pitying the boy just by looking at him.

Why would Connor Moore talk to her? She was an outsider, just like him, and she liked it that way. If he wanted friends, she wasn't the best person to attempt to talk to.

"You live across the street from me, right?"

She nodded.

"What are you reading?"

"Lolita."

"What's it about?"

"You don't want to know."

He frowned, but didn't say anything on the topic. "I don't like to read, much. The words jump around the pages, it confuses me." Connor's Irish accent was thick, and Cass pitied him once again. He stood no chance in Stromness, not when he stuck out so obviously. "I've seen you on the playground, reading. You don't have any friends."

"Says who?" She stiffened her posture, instantly growing defensive, though he wasn't wrong. She'd been teased enough for her odd behaviour, but for some reason, Connor didn't seem like he meant his observation maliciously. It was like he was simply pointing out a fact.

"Well, no one told me that...it just seemed...do you have friends?"

"Why do you care?"

"I want to be your friend."

"Why?"

"You're cool. And you live right across the street from me. So wouldn't it make sense that we become friends?"

"I don't think you want to be my friend."

"I do." He insisted, as he began to swing back and forth, the old, rusty chains creaking as he did. "Come on, let's see who can go higher."

"I want to read my book."

"You can read it after. Come on, swing with me!"

She paused, pressing her lips together, as she dug her nails into the paper pages of her book. Then, she set her book to the ground, and swung.

Cass went higher.

*

"Cassiopeia, someone is at the door for you."

The newly nine year old Cass heard her father's voice echo from down the hall. She stood up from where she had been lounging on the couch, reading a book, this time, it was The Hunchback of Notre Dame. The kids at school had made fun of her that day for reading, as they typically did, pulling on her hair and calling her Crazy Crouch. She didn't mind. Or so she told herself.

When Cass arrived at the door, she was surprised to see Connor, standing in the doorframe, shivering from the February cold, with a paper bag in his glove covered hands.

"What are you doing here?" She frowned, eyeing him up and down.

"Can I come in?"

"No." Bartemius snapped from next to her before she could say anything.

"Oh." Connor recoiled, his expression faltering for a brief moment, though he bounced back almost instantly after. "Well, I brought you a gift."

"Why?"

"Because it's your birthday." He stared at her like she was stupid - an expression she wasn't used to receiving. "Here." He shoved the package into her hands.

She opened it with hands she was desperately trying to keep still, as she pulled out a book entitled Les Miserables.

"I saw you reading some other book, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, for the past few weeks. This is the same author. It's really big, but you're smart, so I think you'll be able to read it just fine."

"Thank you." Cass breathed, tears pricking at her eyes. She had never received a birthday gift in her life. She hadn't even remembered it was her birthday. But the funny blonde boy across the street had.

*

"I hate my father." Ten year old Cass cried, hugging her knees to her chest as she sat in the basement of Connor's house, staring at the telly, though not paying any attention to the show that blared on it. "I hate him so much."

"I hate him too." Connor reached over, pressing a hand to her shoulder, as if trying to hold her to the ground.

Bartemius, once again, hadn't shown up for something important. This time, it was an award for an essay Cass had written on Mary Queen of Scots, beating the entire country of Scotland in the young writers program, which included writers up to fourteen years old. It was a big deal, or so she thought. But not to her father.

"You deserve better." Connor continued, now moving his hand down to her back rubbing it as sobs coursed through her. "So much better."

"Can your family adopt me? Please?" Even Catherine and Malcolm had bothered to come see their son's best friend receive her award, maybe just to give Connor a ride, but still.

"I can ask." He responded, fully serious.

"Thank you." She sniffed.

Then, he wrapped an arm around her, and suddenly, it was all okay again.

*

"Eat."

Cass opened her bloodshot eyes, searching through the darkness towards her brother, who held out a simple loaf of bread. She sat up ever so slightly, using her bad hand to keep her upright. She didn't feel the pain. She didn't feel a thing.

She shook her head. "I'm not hungry."

"It doesn't matter. You have to eat - we have a big day today."

She shook her head once more, pressing the side of her face back down against the wood. She'd lost count of the time she'd spent in the attic, had it been hours? Days? Years? She hadn't a clue, and didn't care either. She could spend the rest of her miserable existence lying on the wooden floor, eyes closed as she attempted to push away the pain that consumed every inch, every crevice of her being.

Connor was dead.

It was her fault.

"You're pathetic, Cassiopeia. Truly, you're the most pathetic person I have ever met." At first, she hadn't realized Barty had spoken, she had thought it was her inner monologue, telling her how much she hated herself.

"I know." She murmured, closing her eyes once more. Maybe if she fell asleep again, he'd leave her be. Her thoughts would leave her be.

Not that sleeping helped much. All she dreamt about was Connor, the good and the bad. How his lips felt on hers. How he must've felt in his final moments, terrified, as his heart slowly stopped...

But sleeping was better than nothing.

"Up." Barty kicked her, not hard, but still enough to send a sharp pain up her leg. She didn't bother to ask why he would do that - it would hurt him too, after all.

When she didn't so much as stir, he bent down, holding his wand up close to her face. Her eyes opened again, staring into the ones that looked so similar to hers.

"Move, sister, or so help me Merlin, I will cast crucio on you until you can't remember your name."

"Do it." She whispered, her voice hoarse from both crying and lack of use. "Make me forget."

He shook his head, clearly regretting suggesting such a thing. Cass frowned. Why wouldn't he torture her? It was his specialty, after all. Why wouldn't he give her what she wanted? She craved the pain, the pain that Connor must've felt.

Because of her.

"Move, Cassiopeia, or I will cast the imperious curse on you and make you strangle George Weasley to death."

It took almost every ounce of effort she had to sit up. "How can I move? I'm chained to the floor."

"I removed it a day ago, you idiot."

Had he? She didn't remember him even coming in there. She thought the last time she'd spoken to him was when he'd told her that Connor was dead.

That her best friend was dead. That the person she loved more than anyone was dead. Gone. Never coming back.

It was her fault.

She moved her hand, and to her surprise, the chain fell right off of her wrist, landing on the floor with a loud clang.

"Stand." Barty commanded, and she did, her knees wobbling. It was the feeling she got when she stood up too fast, her head spinning, vision going spotty, but she managed to remain upright.

"How long was I in here for?" She asked as he reached over, placing a hand on her shoulder. Not one for comfort, never one for comfort, but to simply keep her from falling over.

"Four days." He said, shoving the piece of bread into his pocket. "You can eat later. I don't care. It isn't like you can starve to death."

She nodded, a weak, feeble nod. She wished more than anything that she could die of starvation, of dehydration. He'd forced gulps of water down her throat a few times, she thought, though she couldn't quite remember if it had been a dream or not.

Four days. Four days she'd been in here. Four days since Connor had died. Murdered. By her.

She never should've brought him to France with her. It was a mistake, ever involving him. Now, she'd never feel his touch again, the touch that always soothed her. She'd never see his hazel eyes again. She'd never see him again, and he'd never see her.

There were no tears left to cry. She'd cried herself out long ago. Otherwise, she would've burst into a fit of sobs at the spot.

"Ready?" Barty turned to her, a sinister smile on his lips.

"Ready for what?"

"To meet the Dark Lord."

Barty apparated the two away before she could say a word, before she could question what on earth he was talking about, or try to shake him off of her grip. As the world materialized around her, it didn't take long to recognize her location - the parlor of the Malfoy manor. A table stretched across the room, filled to the brim with death eaters. She didn't look long enough to check if she knew any, as her eyes were focused directly on the man at the head of the table.

You-Know-Who.

"Barty, I see you have brought us a guest." He greeted her brother with a sick smile, before his snakelike eyes flickered over to her. "Welcome, Cassiopeia. I've been waiting for you."

Her stomach churned at the usage of her name, but she tried not to let her discomfort show.

"Are you scared of me?"

"No." She answered simply, stating the truth. There was no need to be afraid. He couldn't do anything to her that she wouldn't deserve, that she didn't crave.

The room went silent, and for a few long, drawn out seconds, no one said anything. It was so quiet, one could hear a pin drop. Until You-Know-Who started laughing.

One by one, every other Death Eater began to laugh alongside him, flashing their ugly teeth as they cackled, louder and louder until eventually You-Know-Who raised a hand for them to stop.

They all did, instantly, as though they were under some sort of spell. The spell of being illusioned with such a horrible man, perhaps. If you could even call him such a redeeming word as man. He sure as hell didn't resemble one.

"There is no need to have a seat, either of you. Cassiopeia, do you know why you're here?"

She shook her head, staring him straight in the eye as she did. He stared right back, grinning ever so slightly.

"You make the perfect solider for me. An immortal fighter, someone incapable of death, as long as you're Bound...it's what I need, for certain tasks. I'd have all my Death Eaters Bind themselves to someone, but alas, it is a difficult task. Out of all my followers, only Barty has been capable enough." This was clearly a dig at all the other Death Eaters in the room, as they all looked down at their laps, while Barty beamed with pride from next to her. His hand was still on her shoulder, and he squeezed down ever so slightly, causing her to flinch.

Cass remembered what she had read in Blood Magic about how the Bond was achieved. There were several different ways, all of which she had pushed out of her mind, out of pure disgust at the time. Now, she wished she hadn't forced herself to forget.

When she chose not to say anything, You-Know-Who grinned once more.

"You're certainly quiet."

She shrugged.

"I heard what happened to your friend. Silly girl, getting attached to a muggle. They're useless. Hardly even human, really."

"Connor was more of a man than you'll ever be."

The room went silent. Barty's nails dug into her shoulder, through her shirt and piercing her skin.

You-Know-Who's grin only expanded at this, and Cass willed herself not to cringe at the horrifying expression he made.

"Would you like to know why you are here today?"

"You already said. You want me as a fighter, since I can't die."

"Yes, but there is more."

She raised her eyebrows, giving him an apathetic stare she hadn't properly worn since her first year.

"There is a task I need you to complete. You and Draco Malfoy. Draco, if you would please rise."

Only then, did Cass glance over at the Death Eaters surrounding the table, and not only spot the bleach blonde hair of Draco Malfoy as he rose from his seat, but the Nott brothers as well. Her heart sank, as her eyes met Henry's. He instantly tore his gaze away from her, staring down at his lap, ashamed. Theodore, on the other hand, resembled Malfoy, with a hardened stare, clearly trying to keep their emotions in check.

"Draco has been given the task of assassinating Albus Dumbledore."

Malfoy flinched at the simple mention, as Cass's eyes grew in shock.

"You can't be serious."

"I am." You-Know-Who confirmed with a nod, his sinister smirk not diminishing. "He will find a way to kill him, and break the Death Eaters into the school. Theodore Nott, rise."

This time, Theodore stood. He had lost a significant amount of weight since Cass had last seen him, which had only been a week or so. By the looks of it, he must not have eaten a single thing in days.

Somehow, despite his emaciation, he kept himself upright, taking a deep breath.

"Theodore has been given the task of assassinating Horace Slughorn."

"Who?" She frowned. The name sounded familiar, but she couldn't remember where she had heard it from.

"A former professor. We believe Dumbledore has plans to reinstate him at the school. Since he has made himself nearly impossible to track down, we will have Theodore do it, assuming he does return to Hogwarts."

"I assume you have a task for me, then?" Cass's eyebrows perked up. "Who am I to kill?"

"No one." He shook his head, and Cass nearly sighed in relief. She didn't think she could handle there being more blood on her hands than there already was.

Bartemius. Cedric. Connor. She had no desire to add to that list.

"Not yet, anyways. We plan on taking over the school. When we do, we want recruits."

"Recruits?"

"You are to find students, convince them to join our ranks. It'll make taking over Hogwarts much easier."

Well, she certainly hadn't expected that. "Why me?"

Why Theodore and Malfoy? What had they done to deserve such horrific tasks? Sure, she couldn't stand Malfoy, but he didn't deserve a suicide mission - which was what it was. Killing Dumbledore would be no easy task, and she doubted Malfoy would survive his attempt.

Was it because of Lucius's imprisonment? But what had Theodore done...

"You'll have a sway with the students of Hogwarts. Considering your...history, they'll trust you when you say you support our cause."

"I don't support your cause, though. Your cause got my best friend killed. It got my father killed. It got Cedric Diggory killed."

"Would you rather decline, and have me track down and kill everyone you love instead? Barty has told me all about you, Cassiopeia, how you feel so much, so deep, for so many people. Your blood traitor boyfriend, George Weasley, for example. Your guardian, Alastor Moody - oh how I'd love to kill him personally. He's arrested so many of my followers, even killed a fair few. Vengeance on him would sure be sweet."

Her heart sank with every word he spoke. "No. Please, leave them alone."

"Then do as I say. You will help me recruit an army, and you will assist in whatever Draco and Theodore need in their tasks."

Cass gave him a curt nod. She'd do it, she'd do whatever he said, if it meant keeping the remaining people she loved safe. She figured Theodore felt the same, the desperate desire to protect Ana, and that was why he was here, not objecting to his horrible task. Draco...well, Cass didn't know if he loved anyone, not truly, except maybe his mother.

"One more thing."

She raised her eyebrows, hoping her dread wasn't evident on her face. What else could he possibly want from her? "Yes?"

"Henry, rise."

Henry stood up, his eyes averted from Cass's, though he didn't seem surprised at the request. Whatever was about to happen, he must've already known about.

"Henry Nott betrayed me, betrayed us, as I'm sure you are aware. For you. A filthy halfblood."

Barty flinched at this, at the reminder of his lesser blood, and it was perhaps the first time Cass had ever seen her brother in any way vulnerable.

"The Notts have disappointed me. Henry betraying me to you, and Theodore, in love with a mudblood. However, I am willing to let this go, on one condition."

The room went silent in anticipation.

"You, Cassiopeia, are to marry Henry."