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ON THE MORNING OF THE FIFTH YEARS' FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL, along with really the entirety of Hogwarts, regardless of the year, the weather did not seem to be setting them up for greatness in the initial stages of their first term. Grey clouds surrounded the enchanted ceiling high above in the Great Hall, where outside heavy droplets of rain thrashed and bright chaos upon the small stretches of horticulture and the surface of the Great Lake.

As for Cassia, she was sat at the elongated Slytherin table as she usually was, reminiscing in the taste of her cereal. She allows her auburn hair to fall in habitual waves just below her shoulders, the odd strand or two curling in an elegant ringlet that fascinates her. (Really, Cassia finds it strange, but cool, how her hair can sometimes curl itself. It doesn't happen all the time, though. She isn't that lucky that her hair can look like a supermodel's all the time. Most of the time she's cool with just leaving it... natural.) And at Eva's behest, she used the new mascara wand (gifted from Eva directly from a Dior store in France!) to apply some mascara, along with a thinly applied a layer of pink lipgloss. She couldn't deny, the gifts Eva brought back from her trip in France were lavish, one could almost think Eva was enjoying having her parents divorced. Almost.

(Definitely. You didn't hear that here, though. As far as you know, Eva mourns the distant, relinquished days in which she and her parents would sit together at the dinner table, talking about how good their days were.)

Cassia's previous night had concluded with a habitual meeting in the Astronomy Tower with Harry, where they discussed the events of their summers — most specifically, his attack — and Cassia eventually managed to find out Harry was accompanied by a 'dog' in Kings across — which turned out to be Sirius Black himself. And how he was so sure Lucius Malfoy did a double take in Kings Cross and had actually recognised the dog. And that was before the conundrum that was the Sorting Hat's somewhat strange message. It's warning still resonated within the ears of all those bewildered to have heard it, even after the offensive cry Eva gave out at her beloved cousin Euan being sorted into Gryffindor of all places. One mystery had been solved — the person to have assigned them Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard in their school books list was Professor Umbridge: a stout, sycophantic woman dressed head-to-toe in fluffy pink cotton, a pompous smile attached to her high-pitched, squeamish voice. Cassia didn't really know what to... think about Umbridge. The prospect of being friends with the older woman didn't seem as beguiling as Umbridge had suggested. They'd also all found out that Professor Grubby-Plank would be taking over Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures for the time being. Which, again, brought more confusion upon them all because what on earth happened to Hagrid?

(Not that Cassia minded. He wasn't the best teacher she'd ever had, but he was a nice guy. Especially after she'd endured detention in the Forbidden Forest with him the previous year, Hagrid grew to have a bit of a soft spot for the Slytherin.)

Like the enchanted sky predicts, the day was set out to be... endearing in the least. With it brought a hurried Slytherin, scampering his way down the aisles to his designated table for breakfast while trying to knot his green and silver tie. Theodore Nott dropped to the bench allowing his fumbling fingers to continue fixing his tie, as he'd been doing the duration of his journey to breakfast. His hair was tousled gently, small wafts of chestnut tresses venturing out of its place, and his shirt was untucked chaotically from his trousers, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His Slytherin robe seemed to have been ditched completely.

Cassia raises an eyebrow at her best friend, watching as he started tucking the white canvas shirt into his trousers.

"What, Peeves stole your uniform in the shower?" She asks incredulously, addressing Theo's disheveled state.

     "Something like that," Theo mumbles, reaching out for some toast. "It's no good when you sleep in and Crabbe and Goyle trash the entire dorm with their manky pyjamas and belongings. It took me half an hour just to find the tie that didn't smell funky."

     Cassia grimaces, just as a swarm of feather-winged owls cascaded heavily above the heads of the breakfasting students, an array of parcels, newspapers and letters being dropped into their midst. Cassia rapidly pushes her bowl out of her midst as her owl Pearl — or rather, the family owl of Cassia and her sister's — drops an envelope, two others in her beak, and had she not salvaged her bowl, the letter would be drenched in milk and soggy cereal.

"Hey, Pearl." Cassia greets with a smile, stroking the owl's soft, layered feathers. She picks up her envelope, addressed with Dearest Cassia, as Pearl moves along the table and discards the following two letters to their rightful owners, her sisters. She looks across the table at Theo, now no longer dressing himself but rather placing a Knut in the ankle pouch of the owl in front of him. He was reading the Daily Prophet.

Cassia frowns. "Nothing from home?"

Theo shakes his head, lowering the collection of papers. "Nope." He says dryly, over-pronouncing his words. "We all know what the deal is with Daddy Dearest, and Mum can't even lift a finger to write nowadays."

"What even happened to Luce?" Cassia frets. Luciana Nott was such a lovely person, and for her to be ill at such an extent was an injustice. And in comparison to her near-nonexistent husband, she was much younger, so it seemed a bit... premature for Luciana to be ill on the basis of age.

Theo shrugs his shoulders. "No idea. One day at Dinner she almost collapsed, and we brought a Healer into the Mansion , who said she was experiencing a really severe common fever." Theo takes a look at the pout on Cassia's face, and not wanting to make the day seem even worse when that's all the enchanted sky above was trying to do, claps his hands together in an attempt to distract the conversation. "Anyways," He says, his eyes falling upon the letter in Cassia's hand, "What's my favourite Mar saying?"

With a chuckle, Cassia flicked open the seal imprinted with her family crest used to close the envelope, plucking out the two sheets of inscribed parchment inside — one from her Mother and Father each. She was glad that regardless of his occupied routine, that Phoenix was still writing to her. It... relieved her, in a way.

Dearest Cassia,

I hope you're doing well. I'm really sorry that we haven't been able to see each other that much, as you already know, work hasn't been able to give me a break. I really wish I was able to spend more time with you and your sisters since your year is about to get all hectic, what with your O.W.L's and everything taking place.

On another note... your mother tells me that you've grown close to Harry Potter. I don't think I can have much of a say on the matter, just that I will advise you to be careful around him... trouble seems to follow that boy everywhere he goes. I don't want you to get caught up in all that, alright?

I love you so much, never forget that.

Father

Cassia's eyebrows furrow as she recollects what her father was saying. Be careful around Harry...? Why? He wasn't dangerous, he just seemed to have a bit of a death wish and hoard of people who didn't like him now, something Phoenix very well knows. Shaking her head, Cassia discards this letter and moves onto reading the one with much more cursive, flowy, and precise handwriting.

Dearest Cassia

I hope you and your sisters have all settled yourselves well since returning back to Hogwarts. Theodore too. If my judgement precedes me well, I've heard that Dolores Umbridge, the Senior Undersecretary for the Ministry has been employed as your Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher? I would... be careful what you say around her. She's not the most... favourable person I've worked with. And I can't seem to understand why she's taken up a post at Hogwarts, when it's so evident that she despises children. So, please watch yourself. Me, on the other hand, it's time to head back to work today and deal with people sneaking into my shelf in the break room. Just because I have the best biscuits! Anyways, take care of yourself, your sisters and Theodore too, Cass. And make sure to keep writing.

All my love,

Mother

     "Mother is saying you take care of you," Cassia says to Theo.

     Theo scoffs. "Take care of me? I'm always the one taking care of you."

     "Please speak the truth, Theodore," says Cassia, sniggering. "You take care of me? Says the one coming into the Hall with half of their uniform still to be worn."

"Shut up," Theo mumbles, resulting in Cassia laughing. He leans in, reducing his voice to a hushed whisper. "Do you remember what you said before the summer? About... Eva. What are you gonna do about the whole Death Eater situation?"

     Cassia sighs, looking down. "I know," she says, "I couldn't stop thinking about it all summer. Especially when we were in France. But... I'll try and get a bit of research done in the library tonight. That is, if the teachers haven't bombarded us with homework. And also if I manage to throw Eva off my trail."

     "Yeah... true. I doubt you'll have much trouble with that. Chances are, she'll be with either Maryam or Adrian by then. As long as you're discreet about it... you'll have no issue."

Cassia nods in confirmation. "Anyways," says Cassia, "Mother also says something about the new teacher."

"The one Filch fancies?" Appearing almost out of nowhere, Eva Abercrombie seats herself down suavely upon the hard wood bench beside Cassia. (Cassia flinches for a second, hoping Eva didn't have super-hearing in regards to their previous conversation.) Her golden tresses flow decorously in a smooth, charming, resplendent trail, falling in heaps over her shoulders. Truthfully, witnessing the splendour that radiated all around this Slytherin, any man would be envious of Adrian Pucey for being the one she dated.

     Theo narrows his eyes. "Where did you come from?"

     "My dorm, of course?" Eva mockingly narrows her eyes.

     "What were you saying about Filch?" Cassia asks.

     Eva grins, before leaning in at the table, her hands flat against the course wood. "Filch proper fancies her," She says, "Like, he's in love. It's so obvious. If they could, his eyes would turn into hearts at the mere sigh of her."

     Theo makes fake vomiting mimes. "That... is disgusting," says Theo, "He has really poor taste. And so does someone else we know." He looks pointedly at Cassia, who in return made an offended remark as Eva laughs.

     "What do you even mean?" Cassia inquires.

     "You and Potter, that's what I mean," Theo replies, wagging a finger in her face. "If anything, I think I've been pretty good at hiding my contempt for the guy. But," He pauses, shifting his gaze between the two girls opposite him, "Just because you like him, doesn't mean I have to."

"Theo, I have no idea how you would expect me to think that." Cassia says incredulously, raising her eyebrow in Theo's direction. "That would literally be like... asking for a miracle to happen."

"Wait, so its true, then?" Eva says. "You like Potter?"

"Well, of course I do! He's my friend!"

"Not like that," Eva rolls her eyes, "You know what I mean. People are saying you two fancy each other!"

Cassia sighs. "By people, do you mean Daphne?"

Eva grins sheepishly. "Perhaps. But, still! Is she telling the truth?"

"Eva, I... I don't fancy him." Cassia eventually lets out. "Well, I don't know. My biggest priority hasn't exactly been trying to figure out whether or not I like Harry. For now, I'm just... concerned with school. And everything happening around us."

Before the half-French blonde has the chance to make a retort, Professor Severus Snape appears in front of the three, his face stilled and sour as always, bearing a collection of parchment Cassia estimates was their timetable. Without so much as a greeting, the bleak man peered within the greasy folds of hair blinding his face, rifling through the bundle.

"Miss Greengrass, Miss Abercrombie, Mr Nott..." Snape spoke bluntly, handing the three their timetables and advancing abruptly up the table, his black robe billowing out from beneath his arms.

"Thanks...?" Cassia says hesitantly, for Snape was gone at the mere touch of finger to parchment. She raises her eyebrow indiscreetly, sighing as she glances at her schedule for the upcoming year. "Idiot," she mutters when he's out of earshot.

"This is great," Theo huffs sardonically, "We have Snape first, then McGonagall, Flitwick and Umbridge the rest of the day... murder me, please."

"O.W.L's are going to be fun, then," Eva adds exasperatedly, tireless eyes scanning the entirety of her timetable.

     As the three continue with their breakfast, they're joined by Blaise and Maryam, bickering exhaustedly down the remainder of their table, attracting a few heads their way. Maryam's expression is fired up, flames parading in her fawn orbs. She looked hotly oppressed to whatever Blaise was saying, seating herself with a thud upon the bench.

     "Zabini, you insufferable twat—"

     "You have no chance whatsoever, I'm telling you—"

     "Oh, I'll shove my chances in your arse you absolute di—"

     "Both of you, shut up!" Theo yells, and much to his pleasure, both of their mouths snapped shut at his voice. "What is going on with you two?"

     "Zabini over here thinks it's not worth my while trying out for the quidditch team!" Maryam says, her breathing slightly heavier.

     "Only because the odds are stacked against you!" Blaise says. "When was the last time a girl has ever been recruited? You're asking for a miracle to happen! I'd have a way better chance of getting on the team than you would."

     "No, I'm not! I've  been practicing all summer and if you think Montague and his misogynistic, privileged arse is gonna stop me from trying out, then you do not know me well. When I get on the team, it'll serve you and your hopeless arse right—"

     "That's cute, Ahmed," a voice intrudes, "But as Blaise has already said — it's not worth your while." Edging along the table, accompanied by his two half-witted minions, was Draco Malfoy, platinum hair shining amidst the darkness the sky above reminisced in. He smirks as he sits down, helping himself to an apple.

     (Cassia felt slightly on edge with Draco being so close to them. She hadn't had a proper conversation with him since he stumbled upon her and Harry in the Astronomy Tower before the summer, and not that she actually cared what Malfoy had to say, but she wasn't in the mood to argue. When was she ever?)

     "Oh, yeah, Malfoy?" She challenges. "And why is that?"

     "Because, Ahmed," Draco annunciates, "It's practically tradition that the Slytherin Quidditch teams have only male players. It's like, an unwritten rule. No matter how good you've gotten, Montague wouldn't recruit you unless you're not, well, you. Tough luck."

     "You might want to rethink that, Malfoy," Maryam says, "And so will Montague. Mark my words. This will be the start of a new era. One where — and hold your breath — the Slytherin Quidditch team has girls on it!"

     Draco shakes his head haplessly, tutting you himself. "Don't say I didn't warn you. You'll be faced with disappointment. Hate to say it, but unless you blackmail him or threaten him with poison, you're not getting on that team."

     A snide smirk crawls across Maryam's face. She got an idea. "Excuse me," She says, with the grin of a conniving, crafty fox, standing up, "I have to pay the library a visit."

     "This early?" Eva asks disbelievingly. "What for?"

     Maryam grins, reaching over the fruit bowl resting by Draco's hand, plucking an apple out of it and purposefully knocking the one Malfoy had to his lips out of his grip.

     "Scheming, that's what." Maryam says, sinking her teeth into the apple and paying no heed to the offender scrawled all across Draco's at Maryam's crime. "Farewell!" Before anyone can question her, she's nothing but a disappearing billowing of black robes, roaming past the large doors open to them.

     "Well," says Draco scornfully, wiping his apple on his robes as he glared in the place Maryam once sat. "Ahmed is vengeful. And I..." Draco looks beside him, shifting his gaze to Cassia, "I am offended that you've been avoiding me. I thought we were better than that?"

     "Who says I've been avoiding you?" Cassia says, squinting her eyes at the boy with the pale hair. (And skin, for that matter. He was practically like a living ghost.)

     "Perhaps because you, Greengrass, still haven't changed your opinion on becoming friends with Potter." Draco presumes confidently, his gaze prominent upon Cassia. "And you don't want to hear what I have to say about it."

     "Why should I hear what you have to say about it, Malfoy?" Cassia retorts. "You have no say in who I want to be friends with or the opinions I hold, no matter how high of a pedestal you pride yourself upon. Quite frankly, I don't care what you think about me and Harry being friends. So why would I be avoiding you?"

     "Say it as it is," Draco chuckles derisively, "You're gonna regret having ever been friends with Potter. It's shameful to our house."

     Cassia scoffs incredulously, shaking her head. "You know what's shameful?" She questions, leaning in and lowering her voice. "The fact that you and your goddamn family are acting like everything is okay and the sun is shining the same way it has 100 years ago. Because it's not, and you all are out here acting like it is. And you know it. Deep down, you all know something is wrong. But you're not doing anything about it. That, Draco, that's shameful in its entirety."

     She witnesses Draco's already-pale face blank further, and doesn't stay long enough to let the regret kick in before she's able to abruptly stand up, abandoning her half-finished cereal bowl. Cassia storms down the aisle in between the house tables, the thought of whatever Draco just induced a throbbing echo in the tresses of her mind. Halfway down the aisle, she feels a set of footsteps catch up to her, and Theo is soon by her side.

     "You okay?" Theo asked cautiously. "That was... something. You just blew off some amount of steam."

     Cassia grimaces. "You heard that?" When Theo nods, Cassia immediately discerns the regret she didn't allow herself to feel for Draco moments ago. But she knew that whatever she said for Draco, the same was for Theo. Her best friend. In a way, he was an exception to the cause. Theo pretended like it was all okay solely for the protection of himself and his mother — not his father, obviously. But Theo did it for his family — it made Cassia realise that perhaps Draco was doing the same, too.

     "I'm sorry," Cassia sighs, "I should have... rethought my words. For both you and Malfoy. It didn't occur to me the reason his family acts like this. I'm sorry."

     "Don't be," Theo shakes his head dismissively, brushing off the apology, "You weren't... wrong. At all. What we're doing... it's to protect our family, but it's still not the right thing, pretending like everything is okay. It's... dishonourable." He looks at Cassia dishearteningly, "You're lucky your family aren't involved in this kind of thing."

     Cassia sighs, frowning at Theo. She wishes that her best friend didn't have to go through such misery in his life. A nonexistent, cruel father, an ill mother, a psychopathic grandfather... and now with them all being on the verge of whatever was happening... she wished that Theo didn't have to deal with such an injustice in his life.

     "It'll all be better one day, okay?" Cassia says assuredly. "One day... this will all be over. You'll be free, your mother will be free... you'll be able to live the life you deserve."

     Theo smiles. "I... hope so too." Just then, as they'd reached the outset of the Entrance Hall, Theo halts abruptly in his step, and in the space of a second, his knees collapse and he crashes to the floor, stone cold to the touch. He would have fully collided with the ancient, hard ground of the castle, had Cassia not caught on quickly and grabbed his arms, supporting the heaving weight beneath her.

     "Theo!" She exclaims. He was still half-bent by the floor, and was trying to open his eyes, repeatedly squinting and blinking as he allows his best friend to hold his frame. Eventually, some sort of strength overcomes him and he no longer required for Cassia to keep him intact, and he's able to rise shakily to his feet.

     "Theo?" Cassia questions hesitantly, watching as Theo rubs his eyes rigorously after regaining his stance. She isn't quite sure what just happened to Theo; and she isn't sure what level of worried she was meant to be. "What was that? Are you okay?"

Theo nods his head. "I'm good, Cass," says Theo, quickly. "Really. Don't worry about it. I'm sure it was nothing." And before she can retort, he's sped off into the shaded alcove of the castle, making way to a corridor.

———

AS THE SKY ADORNING THE CEILING OF THE GREAT HALL FORETOLD, the day would be pretty shite, if you were to be informal. The weather was bleak, and for most students, so was the first day back at Hogwarts for most students. Cassia, by all means, fit into the category of most students. By the end of her third class, she'd already had three at least a foot length of parchment essays to write, and she was exhausted. Not to mention, all around, teachers were lecturing them of the significance of O.W.L year and the importance of passing them all within the one year. Professor Snape first of all, with his monotonous, drawling voice; Professor McGonagall and her stern tone; Professor Flitwick and his slightly jittery, though still chattering tenor. Cassia had a feeling Professor Umbridge wasn't going to be any better.

Cassia enters the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom with Theo at her side. Given the abundance of students inside, it was a somewhat quiet class and people were slowly — almost cautiously — seating themselves. Even as they did so, their eyes wander automatically onto the stout, pompous woman seated at the front of the class, in a similar scratchy, pink coat from the previous night. She and Theo sit down, at a desk behind Daphne and Pansy and in front of Draco and Blaise. People seem to be somewhat... sceptical about Umbridge at this point — her speech last night wasn't the most consoling, and most people still found it difficult to grasp around the idea that "progress for progress's sake must be discouraged" and whatever else was decrypted within her illuminating speech.

     As soon as the whole class was seated, Umbridge stands up and with an imposed smile, she says, "Well, good afternoon!"

     Cassia shares a look with Theo, before mumbling an unconvincing "Good afternoon" back. She sees Harry a few seats away from her in the same row, and offers him a smile.

     "Tut, tut," Umbridge shakes her head, "That won't do now, will it? I should like you, please, to reply "Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge". One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!"

     "Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge." Was chanted back in a harmonious chorus.

     "There, now." Professor Umbridge smiles. "That wasn't too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please."

     With this request coming off as slightly bewildering to Cassia, she obliges hesitantly, securing her wand in the fold of her robe, dipping her quill into the ink pot. Professor Umbridge uses her wand to scrawl some course aims across the blackboard (pretty pointless, if you asked Cassia) and resorted to ordering the class to copy them down. She also made a comment about the scattered teaching they'd previously had, as if the Ministry would be a miles better improvement.

"Has everybody got a copy of Defensive Magic Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?" Professor Umbridge asks. She wasn't happy with the dull, blank murmur reverberating through the class. "I think we'll try that again," says Umbridge, "When I ask you a question, I should like you to reply, "Yes, Professor Umbridge", or "No, Professor Umbridge". So: has everyone got a copy of Defensive Magic Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

"Yes, Professor Umbridge."

"Good." Umbridge smiles. "I should like you to turn to page five and read "Chapter One, Basics for Beginners". There will be no need to talk."

Cassia didn't know what it was, but something strikes her as... off about Umbridge. She didn't know whether it was the condescending, disdainful tone the older woman spoke in, or the need to treat a bunch of fifteen year olds as if they were five. Maybe it was the forceful, controlling tendencies she was displaying. Or maybe, it was the sickly pink coat she was wearing. Either way, Cassia doesn't think she likes this teacher.

(Neither does Theo. She can tell the way he's stiffening in his chair at Umbridge's authoritative motions. In a way, she thinks it might be because it reminds Theo of a certain father back in the Nott Manor. And most especially, the way his father exercises his forceful methods of control upon Theo. The only reason Theo is still planted upon his chair is because of the disparagingly prominent trait of obedience that had been so cogently instilled in his from a young age. God, Theo hated his father. And he had a feeling the woman in front of him had a similar personality.)

The dull, overcast information in the book seems to take no grip on Cassia's mind. The information seems to literally go right through her head, and she finds it difficult to process whatever it was saying, and instead found herself wondering about the woman sickeningly glancing down at the rest of her class. Cassia remembers what her mother said about Umbridge. That she apparently hated children. Was this her form of torture? Reading and writing useless words? Cassia begged to differ. This was some people's recreational favourite.

A sense of relief stirs within Cassia when she sees Hermione Granger raise her hand, tirelessly trying to gain Umbridge's attention. Eventually, the pompous teacher catches on, looking at her with a false sense of inquisition.

"Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?" Umbridge asks sweetly.

"Not about the chapter, no," replies Hermione.

"Well, we're reading just now. If you have any other queries we can deal with them at the end of the class."

"I've got a query about your course aims," says Hermione.

Umbridge sends a deprecatory look towards the Gryffindor. "And your name is?"

"Hermione Granger."

"Well, Miss Granger," Umbridge says, "I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully."

"Well, I don't." Hermione says. "There's nothing written up about using defensive spells."

     Professor Umbridge laughs, an incredulous sense of ridicule hidden within. "Using defensive spells? Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use a defensive spell, Miss Granger. You surely aren't expecting to be attacked during a class?"

     "We're not going to use magic?" Ron exclaims, hinting his disbelief.

     "Students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Mr—?"

     "Weasley," Ron says. He shoots his hand into the air, though Professor Umbridge ignores this, instead focusing on the now-raised hands of Harry and Hermione.

     "Yes, Miss Granger? You wanted to ask something else?"

     "Yes," Hermione says. "Surely the whole point of Defence Against the Dark Arts is to practise defensive spells?"

     "Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Granger?" Professor Umbridge asks, her tone blatantly condescending.

     "No, but—"

     "Well then, I'm afraid you are not qualified to decide what the "whole point" of any class is. Wizards much older and cleverer than you have devised our new programme of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way—"

     "What use is that?" Harry demands. "If we're going to be attacked, it won't be in a—"

     "Hand, Mr Potter!"

     Instead of taking Harry's rapidly raised hand as a cue, Umbridge turns her head ignorantly and looks to the few others with their hands in the air, settling on Dean Thomas.

     "And your name is?" Professor Umbridge asks Dean.

     "Dean Thomas." He replies.

     "Well, Mr Thomas?"

     "Well, its like Harry said, isn't it?" Dean iterates. "If we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk-free."

     "I repeat," Professor Umbridge smiles, "Do you expect to be attacked during my classes?"

     "No, but—"

     "I do not wish to criticise the way things have been run in this school," Professor Umbridge says, "but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed — not to mention, extremely dangerous half-breeds."

     (Definitely, Cassia decides. She definitely doesn't like this teacher.)

     "If you mean Professor Lupin," says Dean, furious, "he was the best we ever—"

"Hand, Mr Thomas!" Umbridge shrieks. The toad-like woman continues this toss of ignorance in the class, and Cassia was getting exhausted with the claims Umbridge was making. Especially the fact that if they study well enough they shouldn't need any practise of the spells. How absurd is that? But no matter what criticism is being thrown, through all of it, the side consisting of Slytherin students is quiet. It's like how it always is — Slytherin are the ones to not say anything, the ones to not get involved in whatever else any other house is doing. But this time, there's a reason. So many people's families lie on the line on this urge to remain quiet — many people don't have a choice. And Cassia hates this. She hates this so, so much. It makes her sick — it makes whatever she consumed for her breakfast and lunch ride back up her oesophagus into putrid bile, because she just hates that so many people don't have a choice in life — that so many people can't help the families they were born into, that they were helpless. Her best friend was one of them.

"Without ever practising them beforehand?" Parvati Patil says, her mouth dropped open. "Are you telling us that the first time we'll get to do the spells will be during our exam?"

"I repeat, as long as you have studied the theory hard enough—"

"And what good's theory going to be in the real world?" Harry cuts off, his hand high in the air. Umbridge looks towards him.

"This is school, Mr Potter," Umbridge says, "not the real world."

"So we're not supposed to be prepared for what's waiting for us our there?"

"There is nothing waiting out there, Mr Potter." Umbridge confirms.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Who do you imagine would want to attack children like yourselves?"

Harry scowls, pretending for a sole second to think. "Hmm... lets think..." He mocks, "Maybe... Lord Voldemort?"

Harry's statement stirs up quite a reaction front the already tense classroom. Cassia stiffens in her seat; she can see Theo turning back momentarily to lock eyes with Draco behind them, and she can see Pansy grabbing ahold of Daphne's hand in front of them.

(A friendly gesture, Cassia thinks. They were best friends... comfort was in order, right?)

But it's not like what Harry was saying was wrong. It wasn't. Anyone thinking so would only be fooling themselves — all these dark occurrences were happening for a reason, and it wasn't make-believe, as the Ministry were leading everyone to think.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr Potter." Professor Umbridge says, in a manner that was eerily calm. She poses another saccharine, false smile in front of the silent class. "Now," she says, "Let me make a few things quite plain. You have been told that a certain dark wizard has returned from the dead—"

     "He wasn't dead," Harry informs hotly, his hands evidently vibrating with a fury Cassia has never seen within the boy, "but, yeah, he's returned!"

     "Mr-Potter-you-have-already-lost-ten-points-for-your-house-do-not-make-matters-worse-for-yourself," Umbridge says in a single, lingering breath. She pauses, inhaling sharply. "As I was saying. You have been informed that a certain dark wizard is at large once again. This is a lie."

     "It is not a lie!" Harry yells indignantly, his shaking hands smacking against the desk.

     "Detention, Mr Potter!" Umbridge shouts. "Tomorrow evening. My office. Five o'clock. I repeat, this is a lie. The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in danger  from any dark wizard. If you are still worried, by all means come and see me outside class hours. If someone is alarming you about fibs about reborn dark wizards, I would like to hear about it. I am your friend."

     (An amazing friend, Cassia rolls sardonically in her head.)

     "And now," Umbridge continues, "you will kindly continue your reading. Page five, "Basics for Beginners"."

     Though Umbridge sat down, and everyone else continues with the assigned work, Harry stood up. Part of Cassia admires his resilience and determination at yearning to defeat Umbridge in this battle, the other part begs him to sit the fuck down and read his book. He just can't stop.

     "So, according to you, Cedric Dighiey drooped dead of his own accord, did he?" Harry asks tantalisingly. This drew in the breaths of most people in the class, especially those who'd never found out what had happened on that night. Or even more so, those who didn't believe what happened on that night.

     "Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident," Professor Umbridge replies bluntly.

     "It was murder," Harry says, a voice edging on a tremble. "Voldemort killed him and you know it."

     Professor Umbridge sighs, a sweet smile on her face. "Come here, Mr Potter, dear."

     Cassia was expecting something bad. It was already horrible. She expected Umbridge to lash out, hit him or something. (Umbridge said she was their friend, but Marlowe claimed she hated children the most. Who do you think Cassia would be most obliged to believe? Her mother or an ignorant, toady teacher?)

     Instead, Professor Umbridge plucked a piece of parchment lightly, scrawling a message within and sealing it with the intricate wave of her wand from beneath her stubby, podgy fingers. She smiles sickeningly as she hands the parchment to Harry.

     "Take this to Professor McGonagall, dear." Umbridge tells him.

When Harry stormed out of the class, his rapid strides disappearing begin the abruptly closed door, Professor Umbridge stands straight in front of the class, her hands clasped together astutely.

"Does anyone else have anything to say before we resume the lesson?"

     Somehow, Cassia's mind is no longer in the room where all hell seemed to have broken loose. Wherein, rather than there being the thirty-or-so students occupied within the walls, the number was multiplied within the cold, gormless walls of the Great Hall, at a time when the castle was home to the students of Beauxbatons and Madam Maxime, along with the students of Durmstrang, their creepy Professor Karkaroff having gone AWOL months prior. It was the Leaving Feast. Dumbledore has gotten up to speak. She can still remember the hurt, the desolation, the pain in everyone's face in the memory of Cedric Diggory. And she can remember the exact tone, speed and harping of Albus Dumbledore, graceful in age, when he spoke the words firmly etched within the throbbing brains of Cassia's.

     Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between doing what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave.

     The words were oddly inspiring... but so reminiscent. And Cassia couldn't help thinking, that in all the people in the world to be dishonoured, Cedric Diggory wasn't one of them. He stood up for what was right. And he ended up dead for it. And by being one of the sentient Slytherins in her seat, Cassia knew she was taking the easy path, and that for Cedric to die for something like this... ultimately, Cassia knew she was throwing shame to this boy's name. He would've died for nothing. And that wasn't fair. On him, on Harry, and on everyone else who'd come across the wrath of Lord Voldemort.

     Whether it was an impulse, or a yearning to do good in Cedric Diggory's honour, or eantinh to stand up for Harry Potter, Cassia raises her hand.

     "What are you doing?" Theo whispers harshly, attempting to clutch onto her hand as it soared into the air, missing it narrowly.

     Cassia ignores him. Instead, her eyes are laid upon Professor Umbridge, walking her stout figure up to Cassia's desk and staring down at her with her bulging, scrutinising eyes.

     "Yes, Miss—"

     "Greengrass." Cassia says.

     "Well, then, what is it, Miss Greengrass?"

     Professor Umbridge looks at her inquiringly, and Cassia knows there's no backing out now. Her heart is rapping fervently against her ribcage, she feels as if her lungs will explode if she doesn't release the words itching at her trachea.

     "How do you propose Cedric Diggory died then, if not at the hands of a dark wizard?"

     Professor Umbridge looks horrified at Cassia's query. She can feel the scalding eyes of Draco's at the back corner of her head, and the way in which Theo is keeping his eyes glued down at the desk as Umbridge stands firmly at their desk. She can see Daphne, turning around momentarily with her eyes alarmingly wide open in the direction of Cassia. God, she hopes this doesn't backfire.

     "Excuse me?"

     Cassia bites her lip. "Yes. I'm asking what the explanation of Cedric Diggory's death is, if you're so sure it wasn't murder."

     "I have already said it was an accident, Miss Greengrass," says Professor Umbridge adamantly, "Surely that would be enough to satisfy your curiosity?"

     "No, Professor." Cassia says. "I apologise, but it makes no sense to me that you keep saying it was an accident when you have no proper explanation for it. The only explanation is that Cedric Diggory was murdered, and—"

     "Enough, Miss Greengrass—!"

     Cassia pauses. Her breathing has become increasingly rapid, and she was completely unaware.  The sweat has gathered in her palms, and she grabs onto the hard wood to stop them shaking out of control. Theo's grabbed hold of her elbow discreetly.

     "My apologies, Professor," says Cassia. "I am merely stating that to say that a remarkable boy like Cedric Diggory has died on the simple basis of an accident, is to dishonour him and everything he stood for. There was a proper reason for his death, and that was murder. And it's clear to me that you're refusing to believe the truth in front of you."

     "The truth in front of me?" Professor Umbridge repeats, appalled. "The truth in front of me is that there is no solid evidence that what happened to Cedric Diggory was a murder. It was completely a tragic accident, and until there is evidence that it wasn't, I will refuse to believe what lies are being spun."

     "There is evidence, though!" Cassia exclaims. She gestures to the door, where Harry previously stormed out of, "Harry, Professor Dumbledore — surely you can't believe a man like Dumbledore would lie about something like this?"

     "Professor Dumbledore has his motives, and I refuse to believe whatever he has to say—"

     "No," Cassia says. Theo tugs on her elbow again. She jerks it out of his grip. "You, and the Ministry, are just scared. You're scared that what happened years ago will happen again. You're so scared that You-Know-Who is back that you're refusing to believe people that have never lied! Sooner or later, you and the Ministry will face the consequence for being afraid, and—"

     "Detention, Miss Greengrass," says Umbridge, "For insulting my knowledge and that of the Ministry. Tomorrow, my office. Same time as Mr Potter."

     The words hurt like a petulant sting. They hurt like the prick of an unsuspecting bumblebee, wishing to do innocence but ending up doing harm. A choke of breath hitched in Cassia's throat — a bulging weight drops into the empty cascade of her stomach, weighing her down and forcing her to stare at her desk, where the meaningless words of the blasted Professor's course aims were sketched. She had a detention. She was being punished. And all because she wanted to do the right thing, and stand up for the right cause.

And as the class rolls on, Cassia does nothing else but stare at the unimportant pages within her book. She can't even bring herself to meet Theo's eyes, who was stealing hidden glances at his best friend in between his reading, his intent gaze laced with concern at the mess she'd just gotten into. When the class eventually comes to a close, she makes no sound, gathers her belongings together and keeps her eyes down, avoiding the stares of her best friends, her sister and the entirety of the class. God, she feels like she's messed up.

———

UNFORTUNATELY FOR CASSIA, HER ATTEMPTS AT TRYING to not think about the events in her last class for the duration of the day did not work in the slightest. She had fallen into the spectacular trap where she spent so much energy focusing on not thinking about that certain thing, that it was all she could think about. And she hates it. Just like she hates the looks people in her year begun giving her — even a few people in the other years too. (News and rumours travel like wildfire, Cassia has noticed.) She'd taken a visit to the library previously, with intentions of starting her research on Eva's father. She soon gave up, for she'd taken to the excuse of claiming that her mind was too preoccupied with the impending load of homework already set for her — when it was clear her mind was so preoccupied with something else. Even when she's comfortable in seeking her solace at one of the tables in the Slytherin common room, she's still bombarded with lingering, protruding stares from those around her.

(She couldn't even get a seat by the fireplace. This day was horrible.)

Eventually, Cassia wasn't able to keep up the façade for long. Theo, seated beside her upon the wooden chair at a table, was able to catch onto the way her eyes hadn't made a shift in their position for a long while, and how focused they'd been on the same page, on the same line, in the same book. Theo sighs.

"We're gonna have to eventually talk about it, you know."

Cassia lets the book drop onto the table with a light thud. She smiles. "Talk about what?"

Theo remains dead-set in his gaze. "You know very well what."

She raises her eyebrows. "What, then?"

Lowering his voice, Theo says, "Earlier on! You got yourself a detention from a Ministry official!"

"I know what I did, Theo," says Cassia, lowering her gaze back onto the textbook.

"Was it worth it?"

Cassia looks up. Theo was almost glaring at her. Part of her thought it was hateful — but deep down, she knew there was concern within his brash precedence.

"What?" Cassia says, confused by whatever Theo was insinuating.

"I said, was it worth it?" Theo reiterates. "Was it worth fighting for something Potter believes in, and getting yourself into trouble because no one believes you?"

A small breath escapes Cassia. She couldn't believe how disparaging of a manner Theo was acting in.

"Theo, I know what I did." Cassia repeats. "I don't need you looking at me like every other bleeding person in this castle is. Can we just — can we just ignore this, please?"

"I can't ignore it, Cass!" Theo exclaims. A few heads turn their way, those already interested in hearing what's going on with the girl who blindly stood up to Professor Umbridge. "You're expecting me to ignore this treatment everyone else is giving you, and i can't! I won't. You're my best friend, and if anyone will protect you from something like this, it's me. And I have to be the one to tell you that what you're doing will never work."

"And what is it that you're so sure I'm doing?"

"Fighting for a cause that people refuse to believe in," Theo says, "You're acting like Potter, like every other person so resolved in proving that what happened to him that night wasn't false. And yes, it happened. But people are scared, and they don't have hope that what you're saying can be overcome. The only thing you'll be doing is scaring people. People that will never believe."

"Let them not believe, then," says Cassia, "let them wallow in their fear. Let the fear consume them, and make them into these... scared people. But I won't. I won't let myself be scared, and I won't let myself not hope. Because there's always a way. There's... there's always a reason to have hope."

Theo sighs. His best friend's intentions were, and always have been, pure. She has so much hope inside of her; so much faith, and it was to be admired. Cassia Greengrass has so much to believe in.

"I know, and I love you for it," says Theo. "You're braver than I know I'll ever be. Braver than any Slytherin I've seen. You spoke out when no one else wanted to — you... you fought." He sighs, looking at Cassia, her head cradled in her her hands on the wooden table. "But... it wasn't worth it. And you know it. Potter didn't triumph, and neither did you."

There was a small part of Cassia, a massively begrudging part, that knew her best friend was right. It wasn't worth it. She wanted to do good, and she wanted to stand up for someone who truly deserves it... but she didn't win. The side of hope, of belief, or faith — it didn't win. She lost the battle, and she now realises it might not have been a battle worth participating in.

"You're right," says Cassia, quietly. "You're... you're right."

Theo's eyes soften, a sad sigh escaping him. He absolutely loves being right; this time wasn't one of them. Not when his best friend was at harm.

"Because I tried to do the right thing," she explains, "I fought for Cedric Diggory. People believe his death was an accident, and it's an insult on his behalf. And I — I wanted to make... I wanted to make a difference. I wanted to... be good."

Cassia's breath hitches shortly, before she says, "But all that's happened... is nothing. People think that his death was still accidental, that Harry and Dumbledore are still speaking nonsense. And I... all I've came out of this work is... regret. And a detention. I have a bloody detention. So, you're right. It wasn't worth it."

Leaning across, Theo takes Cassia's hand in his, rubbing his thumbs over her knuckles soothingly. "I... I'm sorry, Cass. Truly. It... it wasn't nice, seeing that happen to you in class. But... no one will believe what we have to say, if anything. People don't like Slytherins. They'll hardly ever think what we say is true, even if it is. It's harsh... but it's the truth. And I guess... that's a big reason why we all stay quiet about this, too."

Cassia nods, unable to look up.

Theo squeezes her hand. "Look," He says, making Cassia focus her stare onto his, "You're gonna be fine. Tomorrow, you're gonna go into that detention. And you're gonna endure it like the brave, hopeful, positive person that you are. And when you come out of it, you'll say, Theo was right, and know that next time, to say nothing is the best thing for yourself and everyone around you. So, tell me: after the detention, what are you gonna say?"

Cassia furrows her eyebrows, recollecting his words. She chuckles as she slowly responds, "Theo was right."

He holds a hand to his ear, grinning wolfishly, "About what, may I ask?"

She rolls her eyes. "That staying quiet is the best thing to do," says Cassia, slowly and with a grudging amusement.

"Exactly," Theo smiles. "You've got this."

"Thank you," says Cassia.

"For what?"

"For... telling me the truth," says Cassia. "I needed to hear it, in all its harshness. It was... oddly refreshing."

Theo shrugs. "Some people have a moral compass, you have a harsh truth." He grins.

     The male Slytherin frowns once more. Hey, it's gonna be fine, okay?" Theo assures. "I wish I could hope like you did. Like I said, people don't like Slytherins. So we have to have each other's backs. And I will always have your back. What you did wasn't bad. It was just... unfortunate. You're a good person, Cass."

"So are you," Cassia smiles. "I don't know where I would be without you. I love you."

Theo sighs, squeezing her hand. "I love you too."

To sum things up, the day was fucking shite for Cassia. Right from the dreary ceiling backdrop in the Great Hall, to the immense pile of homework, to Professor bleeding Umbridge. And after her somewhat... enlightening chat with Theo, (Salazar bless Theodore Nott, that's all she had to say. He was snarky, and abrupt, and rude sometimes, but Cassia didn't know what her life would be like without him.) she'd endured another round of taunts from Draco (he was really getting on Cassia's nerves now). And apparently Daphne managed to convince Pansy to leave Cassia alone. But part of Pansy kind of... felt bad, according to Daphne.

Cassia was thankful when Maryam and Eva left her alone for the night. She loved them, but her head was still buzzing with the sounds of arguing, anguish, and a regret that was unfamiliar to her. She retires to her joint dorm, falling within the covers with a deep sigh. She hopes that when the time came, meeting Harry within the depths of the Astronomy Tower could make this nightmare of a day become somewhat... better. And that he could make her see some sort of a light to what she did. All she wanted to do was the right thing.

Was it the right thing, though?

***

okay i won't lie i loved writing this chapter :') and i'm really happy with how it came out even tho it makes me sad seeing baby cass sad 😞 especially bc of BITCHASS UMBRIDGE UGH i can't fathom how much i hate writing for umbridge??? she's the WORST hp character no cap

i was meant to post this like four hours ago but i had to go school shopping and then me and my friend were organising a surprise bday for her in my garden😭 so im only just getting to post this smh AND i need to catch up on today's updates too so like,,,, i gotta wait till they leave now smh

i hope you guys liked this tho!! im sorry there wasn't any cassiaxharry interaction but like next chapter 😉

ty for reading and supporting me ily all💓💓