***

***

THE GREENGRASS FAMILY WERE REMARKABLE, REALLY.

One could depict this much when glimpsing this severely female-dominated family. (But when is that bad? Girl power!) Back when Marlowe and Phoenix had just started their marital life, it seemed so compulsory that a couple should produce at least one male heir — yet sixteen years later, all that came were three females. But they didn't mind.

Sure, everyone else did. But that didn't matter to Phoenix and Marlowe. Nor to any other presiding member of the Greengrass lineage — all that mattered to them were each other. The Greengrass family were never ones to follow stereotypes — they didn't succumb to the dark side, they don't regard themselves with such entitlement, they don't disregard others like people of 'impure' blood or house elves. And other families may have looked down on them for that. But, again, that didn't matter to them — because the morals that passed through this family were better, and they knew that they were only as good as the way they treated others.

So, the Greengrass family are remarkable. Phoenix Greengrass, and his authoritative stance in auctioning and negotiating worthy contracts that are able to make the mouths of those way more entitled than himself. Marlowe and her wit, her skilful need to outsmart those in the wrong and her crafty wandmanship, a skill she often uses in her work as an Obliviator.

(Speaking of jobs in the Ministry... Marlowe and Phoenix think nothing true of the excuses being splayed about the death of Cedric Diggory. They know what happened. But it's not like they can speak out — Marlowe works in the Ministry, the place where it all happens! Imagine if she got on the wrong side of her boss...)

     And then, there's their even more prodigious children — Cassia, Daphne and Astoria. All of whom are entirely empathetic and impartial, these three females depicted the sun, the moon and the sky collectively for the likes of Phoenix and Marlowe Greengrass. They were the best, the better and the even better parts of them both combined, and they were so endeared by their three daughters that it didn't even strike as an issue to them that they had no male heirs. Their love for each other and their daughters were enough, and they couldn't have wanted more.

     The Greengrass family is remarkable, yes. Their coat of arms, an amalgamation of entangled vines amidst three tranquil, white deer, is decorated with a scribing that reads aloud as pacis & armorum vigils. It is a Latin translation, loosely translating to arms, peace and love. It's a value that the Greengrass clan has long stood by, and in simple explanation, it means that whosoever should reside within the walls of a member of the Greengrass family, should resort to treating those around them with adoration, and tranquillity. They should treat everyone equally and keep the order of humanity in balance. But to do that, one should also pay attention to the part that is arms. This would mean that along with keeping the order of humanity in balance, one should also fight when the time comes. To keep nature in harmony, any member of the Greengrass lineage should fight for what they believe in and do their service to nature. Within the walls of Greengrass Manor, what is taught is love, and equity, and the art of being a warrior and standing up and fighting for what you believe in.

     Phoenix Greengrass, a man now in his late thirties, also bestowed the tapestry within the Greengrass Manor, a finely knitted quilt painting across the entirety of the wall in the parlour with a lengthy dedication to all the previous lines of Greengrasses and their family history. Each and every person linked moderately with Greengrass blood for centuries introduces their own lesson to this special clan, and within that, Phoenix has bestowed the delicately sown patches with a teaching of his own, much like the same beneath every other family unit. His father, his grandfather, his great-grandfather all along to the very roots of the clan, have an inscription of the teaching they deem most important in the makings of their family.

     For Phoenix, that teaching is this — is fortitudinem, aequitas. Again, a Latin depiction, but it's English counterpart means simply this — equity is strength. It's something that both Phoenix and his beloved wife keep to their heart, and it's something that has been instilled within their children delicately, and that they have seen countless times displayed from them. Right from the way Astoria can manage to rescue even the slimiest of slugs or the nastiest of gnomes from any sort of harm with the most genial smiles. Or perhaps in the way that Daphne manages to instil some sort of a good influence when it comes to taming the hate her best friend Pansy Parkinson has for nearly everything, with enough patience for an entire ship voyage. And even more so, when Cassia was able to befriend her house's most hated Gryffindor without so much as flinching, and is able to endure the taunts with an unconceding glimpse.

     To keep things simple: Phoenix and Marlowe instil the best traits known to humanity into their children in hopes that they will be able to outshine the pride in themselves and their ancestors. And also in the hopes that should they get put into the situation, they will fight their way through it just as a warrior should — with ferocity, resilience and heart. The Greengrass clan were warriors. That much, you could easily say.

     Yet another summer was coming to a close for students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and each student all across the United Kingdom and Ireland were preparing for a return to the school of bequeathed conundrums — whether that be a gigantic basilisk hiding below the girls' lavatory, an apparent serial killer breaking into the castle or Death Eaters seeking solace as impostors within the school. Who knew what this year had in store for them.

     As for the three girls slumbering within the Greengrass Manor, they'll all be happy to have a chance to break back into the school routine, and for Cassia and Daphne, to get integrated into the systemic O.W.L process that awaited them. They had a worthy summer consisting of long lie-ins, hearty picnics on shallow summer afternoons in parks outshining in horticulture, and dinners with the most prestigious families in their reach.

     (Okay, the dinners were definitely less appealing than everything else they'd done. Having to spend hours in a scratchy dress with curls that continued to grow entangled with each other was not comfortable, by any means. Just because they looked pretty, didn't mean they were comfortable. Cassia was sure she almost ripped her priceless ruby dress with the excitement she had in being able to get back into leggings. Let bygones be bygones, though.)

     They'd also been able to spend a week's trip under the glistening horizon of Bordeuax's sun, spending evenings sipping on the finest breweries of French wine (the adults pretended not to notice) and amusing dinners on foldable chairs and tables in the glorious sunsets, along with long afternoons basking in the scorching rays refracted over the Lallemant Villa, courtesy of Eva Abercrombie's mother and her insistence at having more visitors other than her daughter over. So, Marlowe obviously obliged. Who wouldn't? It's Bordeaux!

      (Phoenix hadn't joined them as he claimed it would be awkward with just him and Eva's grandfather, whom he'd never met. But the real reason, which they all knew, was due to Phoenix having an extension of work shifts over the summer. As a result, he'd hardly spent any time at all with his daughters since they'd come home, declaring he'd been too busy with deadlines. Which was strange, because one would think that Marlowe, being an Obliviator under the employ of the Ministry, would be the one with a work extension, but instead it's Phoenix, with the — considerably — unimportant job of magical object auctioning. Odd.)

     After a long night spent chatting and laughing with her sisters and basking in the glories of not being tied to a hell-bent schedule for another week, Cassia Greengrass can be found in a deep slumber, her head rested on a hand entangled in flocculent auburn locks, tousled and spruced in all sorts of directions, the dishevelled duvet overlapping her bare legs clothed by a pair of salmon-coloured satin shorts, complimenting the short-sleeved button-up shirt being carelessly worn, of the same colour and material. Sunrays split into the room in angular sections, slashing at various trinkets within the orderly, girlish room being occupied, the daybreak being a clear signal for the day to commence. As if the girl beneath the duvet knew that! All she knew of was the blissful dream occupying her mind, one she would be sure to forget as soon as she awoke from her deep slumber. This theory was in fact proven when the door to Cassia's abode flew open with a frantic and excited bash, and the one and only Daphne Greengrass scampered into the room, vaulting dynamically upon the bed, adding a second indentation to the relaxed figure beneath.

     "Wake up, Cass!" Daphne yells over-excessively, shaking the slumbering figure. There was a hint of impatience to the girl's tone, an entirely different outlook to the effervescent beauty radiating off of Daphne's morning appearance. Her skin was glowing uncannily for such a time, her auburn locks in a silky cascade of waves smoothly sailing past her shoulders, falling to one side as she bent down to further shake her twin sister awake.

Cassia groans. She still stays put, feeling the blockade of Daphne's figure risen above hers as an everlasting shaking weight continued to work against her shoulders, desperate to draw her out of a slumber she'd just given up hopes of.

"I said wake up! Or I'll get the water—"

"—You wouldn't dare!" In an instant, Cassia springs up from the mattress, an unprepared Daphne toppling backwards. Her auburn tresses fall limply to her shoulders as soon as she rises, yearning hopelessly to be dragged through with by a brush. Cassia gives Daphne a seething, piercing glare as the latter regains her stance again, drawing the folds of her cotton houserobe together with a grin. Cassia was mad. (As mad as she could be in the morning, at least.) She wanted to sleep! Daphne had to go and wake her up, didn't she? And for what?

Cassia huffs a furious breath out, a spark of phosphorescent fire dancing in the cerulean blue orbs engulfing her eyes. Just like her sister, Cassia also seemed to carry a sense of enticement within her at the point of waking up, her auburn locks light and bouncy, regardless of its haywire state. Her skin, though dry and in need of washing to rid it of the sticky sleep at the corners of her eyes, glowed naturally in the slashing rays of sunlight sweeping over the room in glimmering, sparkling specks through the barrelled window in dust-like formations. And, just like her sister, her rage couldn't be acquitted, wholeheartedly consuming the piercing blue gaze of hers indefinitely. "Daphne, what the fu— hey, Mum!"

The eyes of Cassia's widens instantaneously and winces sheepishly when a figure appears at the door that had been open in the brashest of manners previously, and standing in the archway was the alluring Marlowe Greengrass, her moderate heighten figure standing with her arms folded, leaning against the doorframe with an amused expression at whatever profanity she'd prevented her daughter from using.

"You were saying?" Marlowe prods tentatively. Her black hair flowed elegantly in smooth, straight tresses, no longer than shoulder length. Her silk robe coveted the older woman's curvature, outlining the dips and arches of her petite figure with a swift tie of the silk drawstring at the waist. And obviously, Marlowe wore her pink fluffy slippers with pride. (Who wouldn't?)

"Nothing," Cassia mutters, rubbing her eyes free of the embarrassment she was sure to face had her mother been delayed by a millisecond. "Morning."

"Good morning." Marlowe says with a pleasant grin, brushing off her previous craftiness with a chuckle.

Cassia turns to Daphne, scowling. She was still bitter at Daphne waking her up like this. "Why did you do that?"

"I had to tell you the news Mum just told me!" Daphne answers eagerly. Cassia looks between her twin and her mum with curiosity.

"News?"

"Yeah," Marlowe nods, "About—"

"About Potter!" Daphne cuts in, "He's been expelled!"

At this sudden revelation, Cassia's mouth dropped open. "What?" She says demandingly. "What did you just say?"

Cassia hopes she heard Daphne wrong, or that she was still somehow in a dream. A really bad dream. Maybe she wasn't mad at Daphne. Maybe she didn't just nearly curse in front of her mother. Maybe—

"Potter. He's been expelled, Cass!"

There were no maybes to be discussed. Daphne's prominent voice proved that. If whatever she was saying was true, and Harry was expelled, then what did that even mean? That they'd never see each other again? Talk again? How could it even happen?

Cassia smooths the hair out of its irregular place flimsily, making way to look at her sister and mother with a shock-ridden expression.

"I — what — how could this even happen?" Cassia eventually lets out. "How did you know?"

     "Mum works in the Ministry, remember?" Daphne points out with obviousness. "Or did your crush on Potter make you forget this?"

     Cassia shakes her head, trying to come to terms with what Daphne was saying — and not the part of her having a crush on Harry. But the part didn't get expelled directly from Hogwarts, but from the Ministry — ? How often did that happen?

     "Wait — so you're saying that Harry got expelled by—"

"On behalf of the Ministry," Marlowe answers, seating herself on the window seat in Cassia's room, outlooking the immaculate garden and each winsome article of greenery rooted within. "Remember how I had to go back yesterday for our routine summer checkups? I stayed back late and it turns out that Harry Potter got himself into trouble. So, he's expelled. But I've heard they're trying to get him a proper trial."

     "Oh," Cassia says with a fallen manifestation. "I — but how did it happen?"

     "How did what happen?"

     Entering Cassia's room was the youngest Greengrass, her houserobe wrapped around her body and with a towel twisted upwards on her head, having presumably just emerged from the shower. With a curious glance to her sisters seated upon the ruffled bed, Astoria sits beside her mother on the window seat.

     "Get this—" Daphne says, "Potter is expelled!"

     "Really?" Astoria replies, dumbfounded. "That's — wow. You'd never expect it." Astoria sends a cheeky grin Cassia's way, "Now you'll be separated from your boyfriend, Cass."

     Cassia scowls offensively in Astoria's direction. "Shut it! He's not my boyfriend." She tells her teasing younger sister, who acted with unexpected mischievousness. "Mum — why is Harry expelled?"

     Marlowe shrugs. "Something about using magic in front of a Muggle. Shocking, I know. But I wouldn't worry about it. From what I've heard, the disciplinary hearing will happen and by the likes of Dumbledore, he wouldn't let his golden boy be expelled like that."

     "I suppose so.." Cassia says, a lack of sureness in her tone. She found herself doubting whether or not her mother's words would hold worth or not, because these type of things were never predictable enough. Still, it wouldn't be like Albus Dumbledore to let his favourite student be expelled just like that, not if he had anything to say about it.

"Is Dad home?" Astoria asks, irrelevant to the topic at hand yet holding an importance within each of their minds. They hardly saw their father this holiday, and it was as if his routine had completely flipped with theirs. By the time they would be getting ready for bed, he would be on his way to work. It was weird, and never happened before.

Marlowe nods, a limp demeanour preceding her. "He is home... but he's asleep. You might not see him, since he got home about four in the morning." She purses her lips, looking at the frowns on her daughters faces, before getting to her feet. "I should probably go tell the house elves to prepare breakfast," she says. Marlowe pauses at the doorway, and an excitable look crosses her face as she leans against the frame, both hands pressed to it. "Keep your afternoon free today — I've booked us an Afternoon Tea."

     The older woman left her three daughters to rejoice in the idea of being able to feast on a heavenly selection of treats alongside some tea later on that day. As her mother left, Cassia goes to her desk, rifling through her selection and finding an unused piece of parchment and a quill. Daphne turns to Cassia, a knowing glint of mischief in her eyes.

     "Cass?" Daphne asks amusedly.

     "Yes?" Cassia turns away from her desk, raising an eyebrow at her twin, still atop the bed.

     "What are you doing?"

     "Writing a letter... and then getting ready for afternoon tea?" Cassia says cautiously, confused by the approach of Daphne's.

     Daphne smirks. "A letter? To who, exactly?"

     "Who do you think? To her dearest Harry, of course." Astoria laughs, mimicking the name. There is a roguish spark failingly hiding in Astoria's glimmering emerald orbs, teasing her sister innocently.

     Cassia narrows her eyes at Astoria, unable to hide her smile. "Yes, it is. And he's not my dearest anything." She states.

     "I beg to differ." Daphne adds, smirking wickedly. Cassia shoots her a glare. "Oh, come on," Daphne reasons, "The entire last year I was trying to get you and Theodore together when you didn't even like each other like that one bit — and now that you're here fancying Harry Potter and he fancies you back, rightly so, I think it's my duty to make sure that you two end up living happily ever after."

"Of course it is," Cassia mutters dryly.

     "We all deserve our happy endings!" Astoria exclaims. "Me and Blaise, you and Potter, Daphne and Sterling—"

     "You might want to rethink that," Daphne says with a hint of scepticism. Astoria gives her a look.

     "What, have you and Sterling been going through a rough patch?"

     With a small grimace and shrug of the shoulders, Daphne admits, "Well, a little... I don't know. He's perfectly kind and treats me well and everything, I just... I don't know. Something isn't... right."

     "With him?" Cassia inquires, "Or you?"

     Daphne shrugs. "I don't know. But," she starts, beginning to smile again, "We're not here to talk about my love life. We're here to talk about yours!" Daphne points an indicating finger Cassia's way, who in return gives an unimpressed stare.

"Please don't," Cassia pleads casually, "Nothing like that will happen between me and Harry."

"Well, why not?" Astoria frowns.

     "Well, guys like him —"

     "Guys like him, what?"

     "Guys like him will always have other priorities. Having a relationship would never be his number one focus. When you're The Boy Who Lived, you have a lot on your plate. I doubt he'd be willing to date someone."

     Daphne grins. "I believe we've gone onto something." She quips.

     "What do you mean?" Cassia questions with a frown.

     "You said he wouldn't be willing to have a relationship," Daphne states, smirking, "But you didn't say anything about yourself. I'd say you just inadvertently insinuated that you fancy Potter."

"Uh — no way?" Cassia says after an initial bout of spluttering and being at a near loss of words. She narrows her eyes at both of her sisters, who carried identical looks of complacency. "I don't fancy Harry."

"Oh, yeah?" Astoria questions. "Then what are all those letters about?"

Astoria nods her head towards a basket on Cassia's desk being used as a makeshift deposit for many written dispatches, with scrawled penmanship in lieu of none other than Harry Potter, depicting many stories about how miserable his summer was in the presence of his cruel aunt and uncle and his imbecilic cousin. Cassia, in return, sent him many letters of her own, a sort of content feeling bubbling within her at the knowledge of having given Harry a sort of solace in the last couple of months. It was a pleasant feeling, knowing she could comfort Harry in a time like this. Especially since she'd found out that his best friends hadn't contacted him at all. It made her feel special and, well, warm on the inside.

     "That's — we — he's miserable inside his aunt and uncle's home! You can't expect me to just let him become all mopey when none of his friends are talking to him and when I'm actually able to do something about it?"

     Astoria smiles. "I wouldn't expect anything else from you. And it's not like I'm even complaining. Potter's owl is one of the most beautiful creatures I've ever seen, she's absolutely stunning."

     "And it doesn't take away the fact that you care about him," Daphne adds.

     "Yes, I care about him!" Cassia says. "In the same way I would care about Theo, or Maryam, or Eva. As a friend."

     "I don't even know why I waste my time trying to convince you," Daphne mutters, peeling herself off the bed. She walks towards Cassia, the light scuffle of her feet against the carpeted floor sounding as she takes a hold of both of Cassia's shoulders. "Mark my words, Cass. Before the end of the school year, you and Potter will be a thing. I may not be... fond of him, but you guys like each other. That, I promise you."

     With an sardonic nod, Cassia chuckles with incredulity, dipping the quill in ink. "Okay, then." She says. "If that's how it is. Someone bring me Pearl before I end up throttling one of you at how absurd you guys are being."

     A wicked grin crosses Daphne's face as she shares the look with her younger sister. "Gladly."

———

location: 12, grimmauld place

Harry,

According to my mother, you've been expelled from Hogwarts??? EXPLAIN. She said something about you doing magic in front of a Muggle and also that they're trying to get you a disciplinary hearing? I don't really know what's going to happen, but good luck, I guess? I hope you're not expelled :(

Cass

HARRY'S BESPECTACLED EYES SCANS OVER THE SAME LETTER for what seemed like the hundredth time, admiring the print of the Greengrass family seal watermarking the parchment and Cassia's cursive yet rushed handwriting. He got it three days ago, before his trial happened and before he'd been cleared of all charges — yet he couldn't bring himself to reply to the message.

     He knew all this delay was sure to make Cassia even more nervous — although he didn't think she'd care that much in the first place — but some part of him felt kind of guilty that he'd managed to rope her into his life, and part of him didn't want to put her in the danger that seemed to follow him everywhere he went. He'd gotten close with Cassia Greengrass last year especially, along with over the summer, and she was the only one who'd contacted him when no one else could. He'd been there for her when no one else was. He cares about her, and that's why he can't bring himself to write the reply.

     "You've been looking at that piece of parchment nonstop over the last three days. Can't be that interesting, can it?"

     Harry looks up from his seat at the kitchen table in 12 Grimmauld Place to see his godfather take a seat opposite him, grinning charmingly. He was sure Ron and Hermione were upstairs with Ginny, and he could hear the sounds of Fred and George's apparition reverberating throughout the ancient house. Mrs Weasley was also present in the kitchen, bustling busily with dishes at the sink.

     "Hey, Sirius." Harry says, giving him a brief smile. He fidgets with the parchment shortly, before passing it over for Sirius to read.

     After doing so, Sirius sets the fraying parchment upon the ancient mahogany table. "Who is this Cass?" Sirius inquires, a hint of inquisitiveness preceding his handsomely ageing figure. "Does she happen to be the Greengrass girl Hermione told me about? The one she says you've become friends with?"

     Harry nods, his gaze fixed upon a crack in the table.

     "She calls you by your first name?"

     Unsure of what Sirius was insinuating, Harry nods with furrowed eyebrows. "Yeah?" He admits. "So do I, though? Call her by her first name, I mean."

     "Ah." Sirius responds monotonously. "I mean, you have more game than your dad, at least. It took your parents years before they could address each other by their first names."

     "Really?" Harry asks, smiling reminiscently. He shakes his head quickly, snapping back to the reality. "That's besides the point — we're just friends. It's not like — it's not like my parents."

     "Oh. Really?" Sirius asks, an unconvinced smile flickering on and off his lips.

     "Really." Harry persists with a roll of the eyes.

     "Why haven't you replied back to her?" Sirius inquires. "From the look of this ink, it looks a few days old, don't you think she'll be worried you haven't replied by now? The trial's over, you're going back to Hogwarts — what's stopping you, then?"

     Harry shifts his eyes between the bit of worn down parchment to his godfather and sighs. "I — I just... I feel bad, Sirius. Because I've managed to involve her in my life. And, like, I don't want that to come to bite her back in the future, or whatever. I — I want her to be safe."

"But she cares about you, Harry." Sirius reasons. "She's your friend, and she's worried—"

"That's the thing, Sirius! I care about her too. And... we've seen the types of things Voldemort has done to people I care about and.. I don't — I don't want her to get into something she can't get out of, or something that she'll regret."

"I don't think she would ever regret being friends with you, Harry." Sirius chuckles. "She's already made her choice. She chose to grow closer to you, she chose to be your friend, and she chose to make you a concern in her life. I know you want to protect her, but there's no point in trying to change someone's mind if it's already made up. And if there's one thing I've learnt and witnessed, it's not to push people who care about you away from you. You can't afford to be alone in times like these."

Harry looks at Sirius hesitantly, and with a begrudging heart, couldn't deny that Sirius was right. In a kind of time such as this, he would need all the friends he could get. He couldn't risk pushing people away at this time, especially when the fact that Cassia's letters were the thing he'd awaited the most over his rough summer; she'd been his only source of comfort in these last couple months. A letter back was the least she deserved.

"But—"

"Write to her!" Sirius let out a frustrated laugh before flicking the parchment back to Harry, who looked down at the table bashfully. "Tell her everything — how the attack happened, the trial, that you're very sorry for putting off her reply this long. Even tell her I said hi. Wait—" Sirius pauses, holding a finger up in the air, "Does she know about me?"

Nodding slowly, Harry looks down as he gnaws onto his bottom lip, expecting some sort of lashing from Sirius. None of the sort happened.

"You really have hit the bounds with her, haven't you?" Sirius raises his eyebrows up momentarily before saying, "Well, I haven't been arrested yet so she seems trustworthy enough."

Phew, Harry thinks.

"Write to her." Sirius reiterates. "Oh, and can I ask a question? An actual, serious one?"

Harry shrugs, nodding casually. "Sure. Go ahead."

A mischievous grin plays at Sirius' lips. "Tell me — are you sure it's just friends?" Sirius goads. "No other feelings present? Like, at all?"

Harry lets out an exasperated sigh, laughing incredulously. "It's just friends, Sirius. Nothing else. Honest."

     Though Harry told Sirius that they were solely friends, and nothing more — a part of him had encountered this... unfamiliar feeling within him. Like, a sort of excitement that fizzled inside of him anytime Hedwig or Cassia's owl Pearl arrived at his window, much to the dismay of the Dursley's, but for Harry, it lit a spark inside of him. Like, a sort of drive. One that would help him endure the rest of this dreary summer holiday and to be able to go back and see Cassia. Every day, he reminds himself one more day, that each day is one day closer for him to see Cassia again. Especially now that he knew he was sure to return to Hogwarts. Along with that, sure to see her again.

"Just wondering, just wondering," Sirius says innocently as he fought back the smirk, leaning back in his chair. "Anyways. Like I haven't already said it nearly ten times. Go write to the girl!"

Harry nods, smiling inwardly as he got to his feet from the table, pocketing Cassia's letter. "Thanks, Sirius." Harry says, glancing at his grinning godfather. But before he could go up to his room and write to Cassia, the door creaked open and shut with a thud, an emanation of an ear-piercing yell that could have only came from the portrait of Walburga Black sounding soon after, followed by an unfamiliar female voice.

"THE FILTHY HALF-BLOOD RAVENCLAW HAS STEPPED FOOT INTO THE NOBLE HOUSE OF BLACK, WHAT DISGRACEFUL —"

"Oh, shut it, woman! Save your bloody dead breath for someone who cares!"

The noises of Walburga's screaming died down and Harry could only imagine that her curtain had been yanked closed again. The unfamiliar voice began to confer with what Harry could only recognise as Mrs Weasley's voice, followed by Fred and George, and as the voices neared the kitchen, the source of the unfamiliar person soon stood before him.

It was a girl, probably less in height than Harry but looked more or less in her mid-twenties, with an unconventional sense of allure preceding her. Harry didn't know what strikes him the most — whether it were her unblemished olive skin, seemingly smooth to the touch, or her lips coated in a striking rose colour. Perhaps it wasn't that her sunkissed, strawberry blonde hair, currently in a bun, had many strands of hair flailing from beneath it very unkemptly, or that the khaki combat trousers she wore had a massive rip in one of the knees (her matching combat jacket, with sleeves folded to the elbows, also seemed to have also been shredded from the bottom, a ripped edge visible). Although she wore a rucksack, that was spilling with parchment, she carried a few massive notebooks in the other arms. Nonetheless, as hectic of an appearance as she seemed to have, there was a kindness in her hazel eyes which seemed to reflect into a gentle smile, and Harry thought she was really pretty. As far as attractiveness went, at least.

     (Just for science's sake — Harry also thought Cassia was pretty — especially at the Yule Ball, when he'd managed to sneak a glance of her parading around the Hall with Theo, the Weasley Twins and their dates — but it wasn't like he would let anyone know. Ron and Hermione were already pestering Harry enough about him fancying then Slytherin. Which he didn't. Or at least, he thought he didn't. Harry didn't know!)

"If it isn't my favourite ex-Ravenclaw!" Sirius cheers, getting out of his chair to hug the girl, who'd dumped her notebooks and rucksack onto the kitchen table before embracing Sirius.

"Padfoot!" She returns, beaming wide. She and Sirius then proceeded to do some kind of handshake, but gave up once Sirius made a right mess of it. She frowns. "I can't believe you forgot our handshake, Sirius!"

Sirius shakes his head, slumping into his seat, "Shameful, I know. It's old age coming for me."

The girl raises an eyebrow. "You're literally thirty-seven! You still have the covering-up-grey-hair stage to reach! My dad's only just reached that stage, and he's way older!"

Grinning, Sirius says, "This is why you're my favourite Ravenclaw. Anyways, what brings you here? Not that I'm complaining. I just didn't think you'd get time away from the sanctuary."

Sanctuary?

"Yeah!" She enthusiastically exclaims in return. "I managed to get some time off away from the sanctuary and jumped at the chance, because as much as I love all my babies, I need a break. And I know Charlie is still at work at the moment but I got wind of the new Headquarters and thought I'd pay you all a visit before I go visit my parents! They're only down the road in London, anyways."

Charlie? And babies?

"Well, we're happy to have you! Unless you count my daft mother, but she's never happy. You can stay as long as you'd like!" Sirius smiles.

Harry watches as this mystery girl conversed with his godfather about many things, mainly about different magical creatures she knows of. She seemed to be an expert in animals, that much Harry could gather. It took a bit of a while before the girl had realised Harry was in the kitchen beside them, staring at them in intrigue. She turns towards Harry, and a smile grew on her already beaming face.

"Hi!" She greets abruptly, smiling widely. She held a hand out for Harry to take. "I don't believe we've met before! I'm Avery. Avery Hearst."

Harry takes the hand slowly, about to introduce himself. "I'm Harry–"

"–Potter, yeah. I know who you are." She alludes, smiling kindly.

"I don't know who you are, though.." Harry says carefully.

Avery only continued smiling at his wariness. "No." She confirms. "I'm Charlie's girlfriend. You've met Charlie of course, haven't you?"

     Harry nods, but looked at her dumbstruck. Charlie had a girlfriend? He had no idea that Charlie Weasley, a dragon tamer of all means, the friendly, freckly lad he met the previous year, would be dating someone, let alone with that much grandeur and attractiveness as the woman in front of him. Ron, the twins or Ginny had never mentioned her... hmm.

"I didn't know Charlie had a girlfriend..."

She laughs, her voice resonating harmoniously in Harry's ears. "You're not the only one." Avery tells him, grinning, "Everyone was shocked when Charlie brought a girl home — they were all so sure he'd be bringing a dragon home rather than a person. An actual, human person!" She frowns, before saying, "Though, I sometimes think he prefers the dragons to me."

"Has Ron never mentioned Avery at all?" Sirius asked, shocked by the revelation. Harry shook his head. "Avery is the most interesting Weasley to ever not be a Weasley! Did you know Buckbeak originally came from the sanctuary Avery works in?"

"Really?" Harry asks.

"Yep," Sirius says, "Avery is a Magizoologist and works in a sanctuary! Filled with all sorts of magical creatures. In Norway, right?"

Avery nods, smiling at Harry, who looks at the ex-Ravenclaw with a sense of commendation. That would explain the ripped clothes... and the hair.

     "Yeah! Its a sanctuary in Wizarding Norway. It's good fun, albeit really exhausting and even dangerous. The other day I was feeding a Murtlap underwater and the bleeding creature bit me!" Avery shows Harry where her finger had a large bite mark. "It can't be that harmful, though. Murtlap essence is used in remedies. Oh, and you know, working and studying in Norway for the past six years means my Norwegian has become really fluent now. D'you know what a drittsekk is?" She asks, smirking.

Harry shook his head.

She grins, especially after seeing the confused stare Sirius gave her. "It's best you don't know. Anyways! Enough about me. I heard you got attacked by a Dementor? How are you now?" Avery frets concerningly.

"Fine, I guess." He shrugs, giving the girl a small smile. "Better since I'm not expelled."

"That's good." Avery smiles. "And by the way, I know things will be a bit frustrating at the moment with all these restrictions in place. But it'll all work out in the end. Just keep patient, yeah?"

Harry gave Avery a confirming nod of the head. He remembers that he'd originally planned to write to Cassia, rather than chat to Charlie's girlfriend — despite her being so nice and bubbly. He needs to get back on task.

"Sorry, I should go now." Harry says, rising from his seat. "I have a letter to write."

"–To a girl." Sirius includes, smirking in Avery's direction.

"Oh, really?" Avery says, grinning.

"It's not like that." Harry mutters quickly.

"Harry, sweetheart, everyone who's in denial says that." Avery chuckles, flicking a strand of haywire hair flimsily out of her face.

"No.. it's not like that. Really." Harry days in an admittedly convincing tone.

Sirius and Avery share a look between themselves. "If you say so.." Avery shrugs, grinning with amusement. "It was nice meeting you."

"Yeah, you too."

With that, Harry scampers on upstairs into the room he was sharing with Ron, bypassing the dirty articles decorating the ancient home and perhaps the even more ancient house elf, Kreacher, who flared at him. He enters the room, seeing Ron, Hermione and Ginny chatting atop Ron's bed.

"Guess who I've just met," Harry says. "Avery Hearst. I think that's what she said."

"Avery's here?" Ginny exclaims, her features brightening up.

"Who's Avery?" Hermione asks, her eyebrows furrowing.

"Charlie's girlfriend," Ron answers swiftly. "She's a Magizoologist and works in Norway. Kinda like Charlie, but she specialises in most animals instead of just dragons."

"You've never mentioned her! I had no idea Charlie had a girlfriend!"

Ron shrugs. "Dunno. Never really... found a way for it to be mentioned. She's great, though. She's unique, and funny, and pretty, and — hell, if Charlie wasn't dating her then I would."

Harry chuckles. "Well, I need to get this letter written."

"To who?" Hermione inquires. "Greengrass?"

Harry nods. "Yeah. She was really worried, so I think she deserves an explanation."

A disgruntled noise was heard coming from Ron. Harry raises his eyebrows in his direction. "What's got your knickers in a twist?" Harry asks Ron.

"I just — I can't believe you're friends with Greengrass — of all people?" Ron shakes his head, muttering derisive nothings under his breath.

"Since when have you had something against her? She hasn't done anything to you, has she?"

Ron shoots a meaningless glare his way. "It's more to do with the fact that her best friend is the son of a bloody death eater. And not to mention, the guy's a prick too."

"Ron, that's stupid." Harry sighs. "I get that you don't like Nott — I don't like him that much myself — but you can't blame him for something his dad is doing." He tells Ron, remembering everything Cassia told him about Theo and his hatred for his father. "He might not share the same beliefs."

"It's what you've been doing to Malfoy, isn't it?" Ginny adds. "You've been making him out to be just like his dad. Why would this be any different? Nott's a prick, and his dad's a Death Eater. What's so different about the situation?"

"I — it's just —"

"Because it is different," Hermione says definitively, eyeing Harry warily, as if he would give off some kind of telltale sign that whatever she would say next is true. "Because Harry likes Cassia. And he believes that she's good. Which also includes her friends."

"Hermione, what?" Harry splutters, his eyes widening. "I don't — I don't like her like that. We're just — friends. That's all."

"It doesn't take away the fact that Nott's dad is a Death Eater." Ron cuts in. "We can't forget that her twin is best friends with Pansy Parkinson, or that the younger Greengrass is dating Blaise Zabini. I just — I can't —"

"Ron, it isn't nearly as bad as you're making it out to be!" Hermione reasons. "Harry's found a side to Cassia Greengrass that he's befriended. You can't hold the fact that she might be one of the nicer Slytherins against her! As for Daphne... she keeps Parkinson in line. I've seen that for myself. And Astoria... she's one of the nicest people in Hogwarts. I've seen her around the library and she's been nothing but kind to me. And besides, Zabini isn't that bad when all he cares about is his appearance. I think you're overreacting, Ron. Harry being friends with Cassia isn't a bad thing."

Ron does nothing but continue to scowl, prompting Hermione to further explain.

"Do you know what the Greengrass family proverb is? It's pacis & armorum vigils. It's Latin, and it means peace, love and arms. The Greengrass family may have come from a long line of Slytherins, but that doesn't mean they're bad people. They stand for... good morals. The Greengrass family are good people."

"How do you know all of this anyways?" Ginny asks.

"It's in the Sacred Twenty-Eight."

"The what?"

"The Sacred Twenty-Eight." Hermione reiterates. "It's a directory on all the purest Pureblood families. The Greengrass family is one of them."

"You know what, I don't care whatever this Sacred Twenty-Eight thing says," Ron spat, "I don't like Greengrass, or Nott, or any other Slytherin. And just because you're now friends with Greengrass, doesn't mean I need to be."

"It's not like I'm even asking that in the first place," Harry mutters dryly under his breath, exiting the conversation and fetching himself a quill and parchment.

———

location: nott manor

IT WAS FOUR DAYS UNTIL THE RE-EMERGENCE ONTO THE HOGWARTS EXPRESS to commence the new school year, and Theodore Nott stood at the outset of his pristine bedroom, the handle of his trunk within his clutches and a backpack slung over his shoulder. It was kind of Marlowe Greengrass, really, when she suggested that she was welcome to Theo staying with the rest of the Greengrass family in their fine abode for a few days before the return to Hogwarts. Theo, by any means, jumped at the chance — anything to get away from the deranged man people called his father.

     And if anything, Theo couldn't wait to appear in Greengrass Manor via the Floo Network, and even to begin the new school year, even if the fast approaching O.W.L Examinations were going to hit him like a hurricane. He would at least be rid of his father for the majority of the year. (There was always a reason Theo hated going home for Christmas.) But, like always, Theo would once again be loathe to leaving his mother as if she were a captive in this fortress.

     It seemed like the worst of days to leave, too. Throughout the duration of the summer, Luciana Nott had been confined to her bedroom with orders from the Healers for bedrest after displaying symptoms of a severe illness. It seemed like a common fever — chills, raised temperature and coughing, yet it was way worse. Luciana, now in her mid-thirties, had never dealt with any illness like it, and it was by far the worst "fever" she's ever endured. So, Theo hates to leave his mother so vulnerable in a house where she's practically ignored by her husband. The house of a phlegmatic Death Eater. His father.

     Leaving his loaded trunk and rucksack by the unoccupied fireplace, Theo knocks on the door of the room he understands to be his mother's. There was no chance he would miss out on the chance to say goodbye to Luciana, not when she was so ill and the next time he would likely see her would be at Christmas.

     "Come in," A hoarse voice calls out. Theo pushes the mahogany door open moderately, the soft creak resonating throughout his ears. He sees his mother in the middle of the room, occupying a minuscule fraction of the enormous bed, supported by a large wooden frame running vertically upwards, embellished in miniature, artsy carvings. Luciana Nott's face seemed to have regained some more colour in the last few days. It was a clear sign that she was getting better, which relieved Theo immensely. Her once-beautiful face still carried a beguiling sense of youth within, emphasising the voluminous mass of copper ringlets flowing abundantly around her ageing features, fine wrinkles tracing around her mouth and forehead. She adjusts the pillows around her, propping herself into a sitting position as a warm though weak smile graces her paled skin. "Theodore."

     "Hi, mother." Theo returns, edging the immaculate room and perching himself on the edge of his mother's bed, where she pat him a space to sit. He glances around the room, his eyes focusing on the finished tray of food, before meeting his mother's gentle, hazel gaze. "How are you feeling?"

     "Better, my dear." Luciana answers, smiling faintly at her son. "Are you going to Greengrass Manor now?"

     Theo nods. "Yeah, I am." He looks at her concernedly, feeling genuinely distressed at the thought of leaving his mother — more than usual. "Are you sure you'll be fine?"

     "Yes, Theodore." Luciana sighs calmly. "I promise. I'm getting better, I'll be all right." She prods him in the ribs teasingly, "It should be me doing the worrying."

     "I know," Theo chuckles, "Are you sure it'll be okay? You don't need anything, at all? Honest?"

     "Honest." Luciana smiles. "Have fun with your friends, and enjoy school. And tell Mar I said hi."

     "Will do." Theo smiles. He bends forward, hugging his mother by shoulders. Luciana makes a weak attempt at hugging back, allowing one of her fatigued arms to trail against the small of his back. He gets to his feet, walking over to the door and throwing one last intent glance in the direction of the frail woman upon the ostentatious bed. "I'll see you at Christmas."

     Luciana smiles gently. "Goodbye, Theodore." And with that, Theo departs, leaving his mother in a room she was immovable from in a house she was practically imprisoned within. Theo didn't even know why he and his mother were still living in that place — it wasn't a home, and Theodore Senior seemed to take great pleasure in ensuring that. So why keep them there? Oh, wait — the plan in which Theo faced the impending doom that would be him becoming a Death Eater one day. He understood that much. But why keep Luciana there too? (Perhaps as a consolable trophy at Theodore Senior's behest, an indication of his high abilities at adeptly imprisoning others.)

When it came down to it, Theo didn't know why his footsteps led him to the outset of the large mahogany door — similar and near identical to that of his mother's room, yet obstructed in front of a room Theo would never enter by will, for fear of whatever laid behind, or whomever. And in relation to the whom, Theo didn't feel any fear — he was done being scared of this man. Being afraid makes no difference when such a man knows how to inflict pain regardless of whatever mental state you're enduring. But maybe, the reason Theo came to a halt outside his father's office was due to the fact that he had a small wish, a hopeless hope, that there was a father in there somewhere. A man who could care for Theo, and nurture him, despite the lack of fatherly bonding Theo has ever been akin to.

But what happened next, was strange. Strange indeed. Theo's hardly ever stepped foot into the study of his father's, and the most that he's experienced was at the foot of the door, and nothing more. He doesn't really... want to go into such a place, inflicted with all the pain of whatever crimes his father had committed in the past — and now, the present.

But he feels a sort of pang in his head, as if someone was hitting a large gong against his mind, resonating in multiplying soundwaves across his neural system. And he hears a noise. In ways, it reminded Theo of the sound of a camera shutter, only... elongated. It was like an amalgamation of the cacophonous sound of glass being smashed, minus the erratic clatter of the shattered glass as it collided with the floor, and it seemed to fuse with the scratching sound of a record player, blending to form a harmonious, though eerie, resonance in his head that yearned him to squeeze his eyes closed for a few seconds as he came to terms with this intrusion of his mind.

     And referring back to the strange occurrence, it was as if white blinkers replaced Theo's sight. He only saw white. When the blinding light dimmed down and his vision cleared, Theo seemed to be... somewhere else. Or more like, that's what he could see. He didn't see himself at the door in front of his father's office no longer — he was inside a room, surrounded by articulates he could vaguely recognise: it was an office, of a sort. A study. In one corner of the room laid a plush, velvet, dark purple armchair, in the other was a table of sorts, bearing discarded books and an unearthly statue. There were photos all around the room, backed by the patterned, elaborate wallpaper and windows and doorframes materialised from specially carved mahogany, and Theo didn't seem to recognise any of the photos but one: that of Cantankerous Nott, his ancestor. A pretentious man, a historian, obsessed with Pureblood lore and his rotten, bigoted ways — the first and foremost author of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Directly in front of Theo was a desk like any other — carved from wood, embellished delicately with fine trace marks, appearing to be smooth to the touch. There was a large placard, placed beneath books of hardback with unfamiliar writing scrawled along its spines, an inkpot with a quill dipped inside, leaning freely again the silver rim. Theo could see a carved lamp with stained glass, a depot for letters previously intercepted, and the stiff, wooden drawers beneath the desk, with dark metal handles which Theo could touch if he extended his hand slightly. But that was the thing - he tried to do it, he tried to grip the handle, run his hands along the desk - but there was nothing there to make it happen. It was as if... his hands weren't attached to his body. Like, all that existed was eyes, and nothing more.

     The white blinkers flashed in Theo's eyes again, and the same screeching, flashing noise sounded in his head, and before he could make sense of what happened, he was back behind the dreaded door.

     What the hell?

     As he knocks against the hard wood, Theo decides to act as if maybe he just randomly recounted a memory. But the thing is, the place he saw — the office — it looked so familiar. But he didn't know where from. He inhales as he hears the glacial voice of his father's mutter a 'come in', leading him to push open the heavy door and be faced with the draconian face belonging to Theodore Nott Senior.

     Theodore Nott Senior was, by all means, a handsome man. With a face like his, chiselled, square and imposing, and with the mere flash of his charming, iniquitous smile, one should hardly guess the horrors he poses towards his family — the only people who've been there to see his true colours. To everyone else, he was like any other Nott: charming, well-spoken, and a strange affiliation to the Dark Arts nonetheless, but with a charismatic disposition that reflects well from his pristine collection of ostentatious robes, watches and the characteristic splendour from his tidy haircut, combed upwards with a composed finish.

     He was sat at his desk, leaning against the firm leather of his maroon armchair, his hands clasped brusquely upon a closed scripture with foreign scribings. He looks at his son expectantly, as if he hoped for there to be a proper reason that his son of all people should have a proper reason to disturb him amidst his evil doings.

     Something about his father struck Theo as familiar. Or rather, the place he was sat at. Those books... that lamp... the armchair in the corner of the room... Theo thinks that if he had it right, the handles of the drawers behind the desk would be metal, the kind to squeak on its hinges with every small movement. But when Theo witnesses the gargantuan portrait of his ancestor, straight-backed, his posture tall, his expression crude, stony and scrutinising, Theo knew. Whatever happened to his mind shortly before, his mind — or his head — was in his father's office. He saw his father's office.

     But the fact that Theo was so deep into the depths of the room, that he was literally in front of his father's desk just as he was right now, perplexed him. He has never been as far into this frightening room than the foot of the doorstep. So how could he have seen anything from the desk?

     Theo snaps out of his thought when his focus is brought onto that of his stony-eyed father.

     "Yes?" Theodore Senior says, near enough a demand. He looks at his son detachedly, a kind of offense burning up in his eyes at the interruption Theo posed and now his delay in response.

     "I'm leaving now." Theo says. "To Greengrass Manor."

     "Okay." He says, "Is that all?"

     Theo grits his teeth. There is so much more he wishes to tell his father, who wasn't even worthy of bearing such a title. So much spite gathered within him, so much longing for someone who can be that male figure in his life that he deserved. So much contempt held within him at the fact that that man right there should have been there for him all these years, when he wasn't. And now, the only significance that Theodore Senior sees in his son, is that in front of the Dark Lord. The only thing he can see his son as, is a potential Death Eater. A pawn. Not his son. And for that... Theo was bitter.

     Gripping his hand around the door handle, Theo gives his father a curt nod. "Yes."

     As he begins to turn, something stops him in his tracks — something that yearns for his father to perhaps show some kind of affection, some sort of... love. And he glances back at his father, fighting through the stony, hateful look in eyes for a sign. Some sort of sign that there's a chance he doesn't just see his successor in front of him, or a future Death Eater, but something that can show him he sees his son. But nothing of the sort comes. No 'I'll see you later', or 'Take care', nothing so much as a goodbye.

     "What?"

     Theo sighs, glancing back fleetingly before refocusing his gaze outside. "Nothing. I'll see you at Christmas."

     He allows for his forehead to emphatically drop against the door after having closed it shut. Now he would be off to his best friend's home, leaving his emotionless father in the same place as his tragically ill mother, only to have to come back and deal with this same man at Christmas, and at the end of the year. And then the same cycle would repeat. It's how it always was. Theo might escape for some time, but he would always be stuck with this man, and there was nothing he could do about it.

     Oh, how he wishes things were different. In more ways than one.

——-

Cassia,

Sorry for the really late reply. My mind was a bit preoccupied with everything that's been going on. I'm staying with the Weasley's. Anyways, you may have heard things from all over, but I'll give you my own account of whatever happened. For starters, I'm NOT expelled from Hogwarts. Or at least, not anymore.

I was attacked by Dementors in an alleyway - me and my cousin Dudley - and I had to do my Patronus and save my cousin and I. But the Ministry found out I did underage magic and in front of a Muggle, so the first owl I got was one from the Ministry expelling me. The next one was from Mr Weasley telling me to stay put in my aunt and uncles house - they all thought I'd make a runner. Then I got another from the Ministry saying that I had a disciplinary hearing arranged for me, which was two days ago. My aunt and uncle were getting all fussed and practically told me to get out the house, but then something strange happened. My aunt got a Howler - it said 'remember my last, Petunia'. I didn't hear the voice, but it was really... weird. Because she went all pale and said I needed to stay in the house.

The hearing in itself was nerve racking - the Minister didn't seem to believe that I had been attacked. They thought I was making the Dementors up. But Dumbledore came and talked his way through it, saying it wasn't law for me to be expelled for that kind of thing. And he got my neighbour Mrs Figg as a witness - turns out she's a Squib - and she managed to provide enough evidence about witnessing the attack that led to me being cleared of all charges. So, I'll be coming back!

Another strange thing. The reason Ron and Hermione hadn't contacted me all summer was because Dumbledore apparently forbade them from doing so. And he didn't once make eye contact with me during the hearing even though he was vouching my case, and as soon as the case was over he left before I could speak. So, that's leaving me wondering now.

Anyways, thanks for the concern. It really does mean a lot to know that you believe me - not many people do, in case you haven't realised.

I'll see you at school soon,

Harry

ps. Sirius says hi.

pps. The owl is Ron's, Pigwidgeon. I couldn't risk sending Hedwig. The Ministry seem to enjoy intercepting my mail.

THE ARRIVAL OF THE UNKNOWN OWL, AS LATE AS IT WAS, sprung up an immense sense of relief in Cassia. She could practically hear his voice as her eyes scanned through the letter, a hopeful gleefulness existing within her that pretty soon, she wouldn't be imagining things and would be able to hear his voice for real because he was coming back! Not even the bustling queues at the spilling ends of Kings Cross kiosks blocking her every direction, the putrid engine fumes lingering in the air or that five year old absently stepping on her foot and making her wince in retaliation with her elbow crashing into her trolley could distract her from seeing the positive. Had they not been in the middle of a crisis where, about a sixteenth of the Wizarding population believed that Lord Voldemort was back, Cassia could admit that she felt quite literally on top of the world with this response from Harry.

     But alas, there's still a looming crisis over the heads of the Wizarding world, one that denial was bound to play a detrimental and causal factor in. That, along with the fact that her dad has seemingly gone AWOL all summer, reminded Cassia that there were more things to pay attention to other than her glee at Harry Potter not being expelled. Reality couldn't be all that good. It never has been.

     "Okay," Marlowe says, amidst the hooting engines of the train and the farewells sounding throughout platform 9 3/4. Marlowe Greengrass had been the one to take up the task of sending off her three daughters, as well as Theo, off on their way to Hogwarts — with Phoenix excusing himself for work reasons. "I'm expecting you guys to stay in touch with me loads throughout this year," She begins, gazing out at the four, "And I mean everything."

     "Even when Cass and Potter start dating?" Daphne smirks. "That's my prime objective for this year."

     "Your prime objective should be your O.W.L's, Daph!" Marlowe says with a gasp. She sends a quaint grin Daphne's way, "But, yes. That too." The four present take a moment to stifle their laughter at Cassia's gaping figure, offended with the implications being made.

     "Honestly, though," Marlowe continues, "Keep me updated with whatever's happening. It's a... strange time. I want you all to be safe." She glances Theo's way, "Same goes for you, Theodore. Okay?"

     Theo smiles. "You know it, Mar."

     "Brilliant. I guess you all should be getting on board, now? The train will be leaving soon."

     Cassia discards her trolley at an opposing end, her bag looped in one shoulder and her trunk weighing out one hand. She gives her mother a parting embrace just as the rest of her siblings, along with Theo, did. Before they knew it, Astoria and Daphne had gone their separate ways, Daphne claiming to have found Pansy just as she was attending her prefect duties and Astoria saying she saw Blaise. Cassia finds a compartment with Theo, both of them storing away their trunks and finding solace within the worn padded seats, and soon enough, the two are found by some more familiar faces — namely, Blaise, Maryam and Eva.

     "There you guys are!" Maryam exclaims, lugging her trunk into the overhead compartment, Blaise assisting her and Eva in doing so before his storing away his own and closing the compartment door shut behind him, his brooding figure dropping down onto the seats opposite Cassia with Maryam and Eva.

     "Hey," Cassia says, grinning. "You guys good?"

     "Brilliant." Eva says with a smile, admonishing her lavish blonde curls, loosely splayed across her shoulders. The mere alluring sight of Eva, smiling with all the existential grace in the world, made Cassia's stomach lurch into the deepest depths. Every time she saw her, she got reprimanded of the idea that perhaps her own dad was a bleeding Death Eater. It was tough enough trying to keep the secret when she was on holiday with the blonde — now, spending most moments with her, it would be even worse.

(Cassia really hopes she was wrong. She really hopes that what Harry saw that night was false too. She hopes that she'll find evidence that deep down, Enoch Abercrombie was nothing more than an established benefactor with slight selfish tendencies and that Eva didn't have to deal with the fact her divorced parents split up because her father was this other person she'd never imagined he could be. Would be. And Cassia hopes that pretty soon, the secret she'd been ruthlessly dragging alongside her would no longer have to be a secret of sorts. She hopes that she can finally tell Eva something, anything. Something that gave her the closure she deserved. Something that meant she no longer had to keep this barrier between herself and one of her best friends.)

"Where are Adrian and Terrence?" Theo asks.

"Adrian is off doing his prefect rounds... Terrence is off doing Salazar knows what," Eva chuckles.

"Did you get to see Tori?" Cassia asks Blaise, who was sunken into his seat with an impassive expression.

"Yeah, I did." Blaise says.

Cassia looks at him expectantly. "And?"

"And what?"

"How was it?" Cassia says, almost demanding the level-headed (perhaps too level-headed) Italian.

Blaise shrugs. "Cool, I guess. Don't worry about it."

The next sound being heard is a burst of laughter as everyone glimpses both Cassia and Theo, doubled over in a fit of hilarity.

"What is it?" Blaise inquires, his eyes narrowed. "What's so funny?"

"Mate, its you!" Theo bursts out, wiping a tear away at his eye as Cassia clutches onto his arm for stability. Blaise continues to look at Theo with confusion. Theo clears his throat, stopping the laughter fit both him and Cassia endured.

"Mate," Theo says, "This is literally you—" In a display to mime out Blaise, Theo slouches down into his seat so far he's practically sliding off of it, folding his arms loosely and adorning the firm smoulder so characteristically worn by Blaise. Then, in a gruff voice adhering with similarities to Blaise's, he impersonates, "Yeah, mate. It's cool. Everything's cool. Don't worry about it."

This time, everyone seated in the carriage bar Blaise were unable to hold in the laughter that followed in the midst of the unimpressed scowl that Blaise gave.

     "What the hell is wrong with you guys?" Blaise scoffs offensively as the sound of everyone else's laughter in reaction to Theo's impersonation of him resonated in his ears. "I don't sound like that?"

     "Yes, you do!" Theo sniggers. "Why do you have to act so... unbothered all the time?"

     "Because our Blaisey doesn't want anyone else to see how soft he can get," Maryam says with a malicious grin.

     "I'm not your Blaisey," Blaise spat, as he shrugs off the arm Maryam teasingly places around his shoulders.

     "You're right," Cassia laughs, "You're Tori's Blaisey only! You don't want us to see that, though."

     "Shut up," Blaise says.

     "Okay, okay." Theo says, composing himself. "Now onto more pressing matters—" Theo directs his gaze onto Eva, "—I am offended that you didn't invite me to Bordeaux for the summer!"

     Eva squints her eyes his way. "Theo — unless you wanted to whine about being surrounded by all that female presence or play chess with my grandad, I really don't think you would have wanted to come." She explains.

     "I mean, your French cousin came over?" Cassia adds. "What was his name, Oliviér? The one Maryam kept trying to chat up!"

     "Cass!" Maryam splutters in an attempt to hide her reddening cheeks. "I was not! He was... fit, though. And you should've told me he was coming! I could've brought my nicer swimsuit."

     Eva makes a fake attempt at gagging. "Don't call Oli fit. Please. Oli was only there for like, two days? And Theo, you wouldn't have gotten that much time with him. One, because Maryam kept chatting him up at the pool, like Cass said, and two, because he's obsessed with football and that team Olympique Lyonnaise."

     "Football?" Theo questions. "What's that?"

     "Exactly my point," Eva rolls her eyes, "I'm sorry, though. I should've invited you."

     "I wouldn't have been able to come, anyways." Theo brushes it off with a shake of the head.

     "Why?"

"My mum," He says, "She's been ill all summer. The Healers say it was a really bad fever."

"You didn't tell me!" Cassia exclaims. A look of deep thought overcomes her as she pouts inquisitively. "Is that why you didn't want me coming over during the summer?"

"Well, that," Theo tells her, "And because father's a dickhead. You know. She's getting better, though."

"That's good," Cassia says, a relieved smile coming across her. "Could you imagine how awkward the Christmas dinner would get if it were just your father?" She adds teasingly.

Theo grins. "You're not gonna have to worry about that."

Deep into the progressing train journey, a question sparks up from Maryam, piquing the interest of all inhabitants in that carriage, including Blaise and his seemingly uninterested figure.

"Okay, Cass," Maryam says. "I have a question. I get that you and Potter were buddies last year and that you two were talking over the summer... but what happened to him? Apparently he was expelled?"

     (Cassia inhales deeply. She knew the questions would eventually come. It's not every day a Slytherin had befriended Gryffindor's Golden Boy.)

     "Yeah, he was." Cassia tells Maryam, whose eyes widen. "The Ministry caught him doing magic in front of a Muggle and expelled him. But it turns out that it wasn't his fault."

     "What do you mean?" Eva inquires. "It wasn't his fault?"

     "He says there were Dementors. In an entirely Muggle town. Like, he thinks it was orchestrated."

     "By who? The Ministry? That's—"

     "It wouldn't be the worst option in the world," Cassia says, "Since they're already so hell-bent on making him out to be the bad guy."

     "And... you think he's not?" Maryam asks cautiously, "You think he's... telling the truth? About... well, You-Know-Who?"

     Cassia sighs. "I wouldn't still be talking to him if I didn't, would I?"

     The rest of the train journey along the picturesque lands of the Scottish countryside without another mention, implication or reference to Harry Potter. And when they pulled up at Hogsmeade Station and travelled soundly in the whimsical carriages, she along with her friends made it into the castle, ready for a well-awaited Feast. Just as Cassia was entering the Entrance Hall, she finds Theo being rapidly replaced at her side with a grin she knew only too much — that of her twin sister, Daphne's, latching excitedly onto her arm.

     "You mind if I steal her for a minute, Theodore?" Daphne looks to Theo, grinning.

     Theo holds his hands up to his face. "She's all yours."

     "Thanks." Daphne looks back to Cassia. "So? Have you seen him yet?"

     "Seen who?" Cassia furrows her eyebrows.

     Daphne scowls. "Potter, of course! You're looking for him. It's written all over your face."

     "No way, Daph," Cassia says with a light scoff.

     (Cassia would never admit it — but Daphne was right. She was scouring the Entrance Hall for a sign of Harry. She had no idea her face was that much of a tell.)

     "Well," Daphne says, "No matter what you say, I know you were looking for him. Look no further, twin sister!" She exclaims in glee, her finger pointing over to a space in the Entrance Hall amidst the mass of students. "There he is!"

     If Cassia's face didn't give it away immediately, the abruptness in which her head darted towards the spot her twin pointed to certainly did. Rightly so, Harry Potter stood there, preceded by spectacles and with dark hair that seemed to have never been combed since day one. His Gryffindor robes were strikingly opposing to that of Cassia's Slytherin, and she'd also managed to register him standing with Ron Weasley, Hermione Grange, along with the Weasley twins and Neville Longbottom.

     "Hold my bag," Cassia says absently, her eyes focused on Harry, dropping her bag onto her amused twins' arm as she made a sprint towards him and leapt unanticipatedly onto the boy, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck in the process.

     (Daphne smiles. She wasn't necessarily a Harry Potter fan. But she was a Cassia Greengrass fan. She wanted to see her twin happy!)

     Harry Potter hadn't had so much as a second to process a whiff of wind in the middle of the Entrance Hall, before he felt a pair of arms being thrown and latched around his neck, making him stumble backwards until managing to wrap his arms around a waist, stabilising himself before he would've fallen. He was confused at first as to who would've jumped onto him so abruptly, but when he caught a glimpse of the auburn hair in his face and the jasmine smell wavering through his nose, he understood. Cassia.

     Eventually retracting herself from the desperate clutch she had on Harry, Cassia glimpsed his smiling face. Along with the bewildered stares of most other students in the Entrance Hall, the smile of Hermione's and the glare of Ron's.

    Reddening under the weight of all the stares, Cassia directs her eyes back onto Harry. "Cassia! It's — you — well, how are you?" He asks, a little bashfully at that. They try to ignore the teasing looks Fred and George were giving them, cooing incessantly around them both.

"Um, I'm doing fine — brilliant, actually." Cassia answers with a gentle smile. "I'm glad you're here. I... didn't think I'd see you again."

     Harry shrugs, gladdened. "Well, I'm here, aren't I?" He says, grinning. "Are you still wanting to... well, meet up tonight? Only if you want to, though."

     Cassia smiles. "Of course. Everyone here—"

     As Cassia took a cautious glance to the audience they'd attracted, before she knew it, the cooing initiated by the Weasley twins had ceased and they were fanning their arms at the crowd, getting them to move out.

     "Move along, people," Fred calls out loudly.

     "Yeah, nothing interesting to see here," George adds at the top of his voice. "Just two people having a long moment."

     Just before the amusing twins join the rest of the mob into the Great Hall, they turn back, flashing mischievous grins Cassia's way.

     "You watch that grip of yours, Favourite Greengrass—"

     "You might take someone out—"

     They were gone before Cassia was even able to answer them, leaving behind only Harry, Cassia, an idiosyncratic trail of dust in their wake and the remnants of students eager to get their hands on what the house elves had to offer. Cassia offers Harry one last smile. "I'll see you soon."

     Before she could turn away, Cassia stops herself and looks at Harry, a gentleness in her expression. "I'm glad you're here, Harry."

     Harry smiles. He did miss her.

     When Cassia finds herself a spot at the Slytherin table between Maryam and Eva and opposite Theo and Blaise, growing abundantly filled, she was faced with a smirking Daphne, sat nearby to them besides Pansy. Cassia immediately rolls her eyes, even without hearing what Daphne would've said. She already knew.

     "That was a pretty enthusiastic hug for just friends, don't you think?" Daphne teases.

     "Oh, shut up." Cassia retorts, unable to hide the grin betraying her façade. As Dumbledore ascends towards his podium, gracefully stepping in tune, Eva discretely points towards a figure seated at the table, pompously dressed in a splendour of pink and scratchy cotton.

     "New teacher?" Eva asks.

     Hmm. Cassia furrows her eyebrows. Little did she know, but this year had way more in store for her than she could ever imagine.

***

CASS IS BACK!!!

bro the fact this was 12300 words😭😭😭😭😭😭why am i like this. this is OFFICIALLY the longest chapter of this book omfg i keep saying that perhaps we should keep count and see how long i can go😼😼JK JK

but can we believe the original version of this chapter was hardly 6000 words😭😭😭

anyways i hope you liked this??? ootp is gonna be DIFFERENT and there'll be more theo & daphne & eva & maryam and all around it's more inclusive. i feel like in part one i hardly explored the characters AS A WHOLE and that was mainly because i wanted to save it all up for the big build up :') so excited for this part and tysm for supporting and reading this!!

(ps there's still a bunch of world crises going on so keep educated and on top of petitions etc!)

also we got avery!!! if u wanna see more of this queen check out my charlie weasley fic distant game ;)