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IF YOU WERE TO HAVE TOLD CASSIA GREENGRASS AT THE BEGINNING OF THE SCHOOL YEAR THAT she'd end up willingly (though as a last resort) choosing to sit beside Ron Weasley... she'd probably have laughed in your face. Perhaps she still would, because as oddly calm as it currently was, her mind still repeats the same thought: what on earth. Hell hadn't broken loose and her and Ron hadn't killed each other yet, so things seemed to be going fine.

     It's not like she even wanted to sit beside Ron, as calm as things seemed to be going. Eva had caught some horrible ailment called the Norovirus and ended up spewing vomit all over their dormitory floor the other day. It was unpleasant. It's only meant to last a few days, so Madam Pomfrey decided to keep the Abercrombie girl in the Hospital Wing for the time being. Hence why Eva was out of the equation.

     As for Maryam, Millicent had grabbed her to sit beside before Cassia had the chance. Most of the class already had their pairs and Theo was still away from Hogwarts, leading Cassia to take the seat behind her boyfriend and Hermione Granger to sit beside his best friend, the only person in class without a desk partner.

But she's bored out her mind. Cassia is great at History of Magic, there's no denying. History is interesting and her memory is strong enough that she's always scoring well on tests and essays—that doesn't mean she enjoys it. Being taught by a ghost is as dreary as his dulcet tones every lesson and Professor Binns really doesn't spruce up his lessons enough to meet Cassia's level of enjoyment.

     Currently, there was about thirty minutes left till the end of the class and given that he'd managed to finish the topic outline with half an hour to go, Professor Binns let the class get a head start on their essays. Which gave the phantom teacher the leeway to standby for the rest of the class, though he wasn't paying much attention to them at all. It made Cassia wonder how boring life as a ghost teacher was. How would he mark essays? Wouldn't his hand just... go through the page? Did he have, like, a human assistant that he would yell marking comments at?

     Many, many questions...

     Anyways. While a cacophony of quills itching in trails against parchment resonated within the ears of Cassia, her own laid leaning against the rim of its ink pot. She herself kept her head slumped upon a propped-up hand, eyes trained on the nothingness that was the contents of her essay. She knows she would probably benefit from doing her essay right now rather than leaving it for later but she just can't focus on doing homework in class. She could do it anywhere—her dorm, the Great Hall, the bathroom for all she cares—just not in a classroom.

Edging her head slightly, she gazes towards her desk partner with the vague perception of her side gaze. Ron was slumped over his parchment with the quill in eye view and forearms guarding the desk. He was etching at his alchemist history essay rather messily. Then he stops. He twiddles the quill between his fingertips for some time before dropping his back against his chair and sighing, leaning back. Cassia attempts to zero in on the sentence he was clearly having difficulty with.

People who studied Alchemy avoided getting caught by Muggles by

And then the sentence cut off.

"They used symbols of astrology and biblical slash pagan mythology," Cassia tells him, twiddling her thumbs together. "There were others too but those were the main ones."

Ron squints his eyes at her, suspicious. It's not that deep, Cassia thinks to herself. Just because she can't concentrate on writing an essay in class doesn't mean she doesn't know the answers to them. She raises an eyebrow at him, pressing her lips together as if to say: it wasn't the cure to world famine, was it? Instead Ron just sits there, looking at his best friend's girlfriend with a newfound sense of perturbance in his deep blue eyes.

Remembering something, Cassia reaches under the desk for her backpack. She's thinking about buying a handbag for school next year instead of a backpack. It could be cute. Her hand undoes the zip and digs inside, rifling past paper-like material (likely the dreaded article she recently read about those Azkaban escapees—at this moment more than anything, the word "death eater" was highly triggering). Her fingers enclose around a small rectangular box. She drops her bag back on the floor, seeing Professor Binns still absent to the class as he was from this work, and tosses the box onto the desk between them.

Ron looks at the box in confusion.

Cassia rolls her eyes.

"For heavens sake, Weasley," she mutters quietly, "I'm sure you're smart enough to know what a box of cards look like?"

"Of course I know what cards look like!" Ron whispers harshly with a frown, slightly offended.

Cassia looks at him expectantly. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Do you know how to play?"

"Why would be play here?"

"I asked you if you knew how to play."

Ron scowls at her though snags the pack of cards from the desk. He rips open the box and rummages through the cards. Professor Binns acts oblivious.

     "Do you know how to play?" Ron returns, not taking his eyes off of her while he continues to sort the deck of cards.

     "I wouldn't be asking if I did, would I?"

     "Even though you have a deck of cards in your bag?"

     "It was Astoria's best friend's birthday the other day. She didn't like the playing cards she got gifted so gave it to Tori who gave it to me."

     "Zabini's girlfriend." says Ron bluntly.

     "My sister." says Cassia. She was beginning to get tired of this hatred game Ron was playing with the Slytherins in their year. Blaise may not be the nicest, but surely Ron can look past that to recognise that Astoria Greengrass, despite being Slytherin, is one of the purest most kindest souls in Hogwarts?

     "Harry tells me you play chess," she whispers. "Cards and chess are similar, aren't they? Arithmetic-wise."

     Ron raises his eyebrows as if to say "not in the slightest".

     "I know one game," Ron says quietly. "An adjusted version of the Muggle game Poker. My brother Charlie taught me but he thought the full game was too complex for me."

     "I think I met Charlie," says Cassia, trapping with her palm the two cards he slides her across the desk.

     Ron frowns. "Did you?"

     "Yeah," Cassia nods. "Last year in detention. By the dragons enclosure with Hagrid. For the First Task. He was nice."

     "Oh," says Ron, furrowing his eyebrows.

     "Matter of fact," Cassia begins to recall, "I was in detention in the first place because I tried helping your twin brothers with entering the tournament."

     "Oh," says Ron. He looks really deep in thought.

     Cassia arches an eyebrow, unsure of what he could be thinking so hard about. He dealt himself two cards and stuck the rest in a pile in the middle of the desk. "How do you play this poker game anyways?"

     "Okay, uh," Ron gathers his cards and straightens them against the table, seemingly content with veering away from their previous conversation. "We start with two cards." He fidgets with his quill for a bit before noticing the blank sheet of parchment in front of Cassia. "You mind if I use that?"

     "Not like it was going to be used anyways."

     When Cassia lifts her hands away from the parchment in a low surrender, Ron snags it from beneath her and starts to sketch across the surface quickly.

    "The highest hand in poker is a royal flush," Ron was writing so quickly Cassia found the only thing to do was listen to his hushed voice. "It's when you have five cards of the same suit—one has to be a 10, then Jack, Queen, King and Ace. Very rare."

     "What do you mean suit?" Cassia furrows her eyebrows.

     "The type of card it is." says Ron. "Like, diamond, or hearts, spades or club. The next best hand is a straight flush. The five cards have to be the same suit and the numbers have to be in chronological order. Four of a kind is pretty self-explanatory, full house is three of a kind and a pair in one, a flush is when the cards are same suit but not the same number or order, a straight is five cards in the same number order. There's three of a kind, two pair and single pair which are simple enough. The lowest is a high card when you have just a single card and no pair of anything."

     "Right," says Cassia, her eyebrows scrunching together. She looks at the ranking the redhead detailed out on parchment. "I have to get higher than you to win?"

     Ron nods. "Highest ranking between each hand wins. Usually me and Charlie would bet something in return for someone winning. In me and Charlie's game, we bet in the beginning then if we thought our cards had a chance at getting one of the good rankings we increased our bets. After that you take another card. We stop at five cards and show each other, the person with the highest ranking wins that round."

"Okay," says Cassia, tapping her finger against the desk and looking between her two cards. Ace of hearts and queen of diamonds. There was possibility there... even though Cassia was still partially clueless. "I'll start with twenty Sickles."

     Ron studies his cards for a short while before looking up with a hardened gaze, "Two Galleons."

She raises an eyebrow. "That good, huh?"

Ron flashes her a smirk. They each take another card. Maybe the sinking feeling at seeing a two of spades wasn't the best indicator of her choice. She keeps her bet in place while Ron increases it, even though for the most part, his expression remained stoic. This must be where the phrase "poker face" came from. By the end of the first round, Cassia's wager increased to five Galleons and her cards were completed with an ace of diamonds and a queen of spades. Which was a two pair. Given the ranking system, it wasn't that high and her hopes weren't very enthusiastic.

     Her and Ron connect eyes and in a synced swift movement, both quintets of cards were placed on the desk. Immediately they both incline their heads to see what the other has received. Ron's cards were in the order of 6, 7, 8, 9, 10. But they weren't of the same suit—there were two spades, an ace, diamond and heart. This was a straight, Cassia could see with her indicator being the piece of parchment. And it was a higher ranking than Cassia's.

"That's rubbish," Cassia huffs, scowling at Ron's smirk. She wasn't very happy at having to give Ron five galleons.

"But I won," says Ron confidently.

"That's not fair!"

     "How is it not fair?"

     "It was my first time ever playing!" answers Cassia. It was evident that she was trying her hardest to get another round. "And you've played it before too!"

     Ron squints his eyes at her.

     "Fine," he says, "that was a practice round."

     "Perfect," Cassia smiles. Ron gives her a stern look as he gathers her cards back in.

"It's for real this time," Ron tells her, "Keep the same bets, yeah? I'll deal five cards instead."

"Fine by me," says Cassia. This time, however, Cassia wasn't so lucky so as to escape with her "practice round". She may have done better in getting a straight hand of cards yet Ron managed to one-up her and received a flush. The next round was in Cassia's favour when she got dealt a four of a kind, while Ron had three of a kind. Which also meant Ron owed her twenty galleons. Thank god.

"Last round," Ron mutters, his tone gruff. Cassia relaxes back in her chair, grinning with contentment. Ron slides the two cards Cassia's way; she palms them flat against the table before sliding them off and grading them discreetly, guarding them with a shielding hand.

"Three galleons." says Cassia.

"Six galleons." says Ron.

They pick up their next cards. By now, Cassia was no longer an amateur in making the poker face.

"Five galleons," says Cassia.

"Ten galleons," says Ron.

Next card.

"Keep it the same," says Cassia.

"12 galleons." says Ron.

Next card.

Cassia purses her lips in thought.

"A hoop earring." She says.

Ron's eyes widen. "What?"

"A hoop earring," Cassia clarifies, absolutely sure, "You didn't say the bet had to just be money, did you? I'm placing one of my earrings down."

His eyes narrow, peering at the small hoop circling her lobe beneath a strand of auburn hair. "One of your earrings? Whereabouts in your brilliant imagination would that have come from?"

Cassia shrugs. "I mean, the joke's on me. If you win, I'll have to spend the rest of the day wearing one hoop earring. Isn't that odd?"

"Each to their own," says Ron, still looking at Cassia as if she'd sprouted another head. "If you win, you can have my prized chess piece."

"Goodness, Weasley," Cassia lets out an overemphasised puff of breath, "That's a confident bet."

"I'm a confident guy."

She arches an eyebrow, but picks up one more card. She looks at her new card with a newfound sense of innovation.

"My special bar of chocolate." She bets.

"Your special bar of chocolate?" Ron reiterates in disbelief.

"The very one."

"How special?"

"So special it's not even been used for period cravings."

     Ron grimaces in his own immature way but says, "The box of liquorice wands I keep for rainy days."

     "What kind of liquorice?"

     "Red liquorice, obviously."

     Cassia presses her lips together. "You have taste."

     Ron raises an eyebrow. They both take their final cards. Cassia looks at her final five. Ace of diamonds, ace of spades, ace of hearts. Queen of hearts, queen of clubs. Three of a kind and a pair, which makes a full house according to the diagram. It was pretty high, Cassia thought. Hopefully it was better.

For the final time their eyes click on sight and they place their two sets of cards down onto the table. Ron had five spades which all happened to range from two till six. Five consecutive cards of the same suit. A straight flush.

Ron won the round.

"This is a scam!" Cassia exclaims, glaring furiously.

"How's it a scam?" Ron frowns, letting out an offended scoff.

"I don't know! You play this game way more than I do! You'll have found out how to cheat somehow."

Ron clicks his tongue, "Looks like someone's a sore loser."

"I am not a sore loser—"

"What are you two doing?" Harry, in the desk in front, turns back and stares at his girlfriend and best friend with utmost curiosity. It perplexed him to see them not exactly getting along, but bickering somewhat along the lines of it being nothing but harmless. Hermione also turns back from her fervent quill work on her essay. Professor Binns seemed to have disappeared entirely.

"Poker," Cassia answers with a small hint of a grin. Then she frowns, jabbing a thumb in Ron's direction. "He's a cheater."

Ron scoffs, shaking his head. "I do not cheat. Harry, your girlfriend is the sorest loser I've ever played with."

"Worse than Harry in chess?" pipes up Hermione.

"Worse than Harry in chess." Ron confirms, ignoring the offended exclamation Harry made. Ron steals a furtive glance off of Cassia. "She at least knows how to take risks. Properly."

A small trace of a smile twitches at the corners of Cassia's mouth as she looks down into her folded arms, somewhat pleased. Harry though seems to have forgotten his previous offence at Ron and Hermione's comments regarding his chess game. Harry turns back to his desk with a wide, ecstatic grin stretched across his face.

"I guess I have to pay up now," Cassia sighs. She starts fiddling with her right earring, both hands struggling to undo the clasp behind. "For heaven's sake, why are these earrings so difficult..."

"You can stop that," Ron shakes his head and the finest trace of an incredulous laugh escapes him. "I don't want your earring, bloody hell. Or your money."

Cassia squints her eyes at him.

"That chocolate, on the other hand..." He trails off, smirking slightly.

Her eyebrows shooting up momentarily, Cassia nods, her expression amused. "Fine, Weasley."

As he grins, highly satisfied with himself, Cassia holds a finger in his direction.

"Next time," says Cassia, "Those liquorice wands are mine."

———

ST. MUNGO'S WAS GROWING YELLOWER AND YELLOWER BY THE DAY.

But it still provided Theo with more comfort than his actual so-called home.

Back "home" there was a man who resembled Theo largely yet acted as though he was some kind of pariah. A man who made Theo feel as if he was trapped, condemned to a life of loathing and depreciation and cruelty.

     In St. Mungo's there was at least his mother. The woman who birthed him, and raised him, and made him feel worthy. She may have been under hospitalised conditions but he'd rather spend his night in the weird chair at the side of her hospital bed than his own in his ridiculously pretentious bedroom. Although he spent a few accidental —though entirely purposeful— nights in St. Mungo's, he did go to spend quite a few nights back home. He'd intercept whatever schoolwork got owled to him—for he still hadn't returned to Hogwarts just yet—pack a bag, retreat to the Floo Network in his living room and transport himself to that in the St. Mungo's underground. All while interacting with his father as minimally as possible. That's how the last week went.

     All the while this routine had been happening, Theo also began to get to know his uncle, Xavier. (It still feels so strange to Theo that he has an uncle, an aunt as well as three cousins—one of which he goes to school with and actually sat behind in Transfiguration once. How absolutely bonkers.) Uncle Xavier was cool and pleasant and Theo got on with him okay. As okay as getting on with a long hidden-from relative can get. And Healer Hopkins (the parent of someone else he goes to school with—again, how bonkers) turns out to be pretty remarkable. Her son Wayne was born with partial deafness and Healer Hopkins had been the one to invent special hearing aids that would make him hear better, possibly even better than the average hearing capacity of a person. It also included special sound-enhancers that teachers in Hogwarts wear to allow Wayne to hear the teachers even clearer. How cool.

Theo awakens governed by the same chair he'd moulded himself into over the past week, his neck strained from being propped over his neck all night long. A grey cable-knit throw blanket has been draped over him, one he doesn't remember falling asleep with. Glancing over just slightly, he sees his mother sleeping, more peaceful now than before with the ailments she'd endured. He eventually came to the conclusion that whatever happened inside this room, and however hard the mind link could be exercised by his father — he'd never know. Theo had his guesses that there was a blockade preventing his from seeing into his mind, and when he'd asked Healer Hopkins, he'd found his guesses to be correct. It's why Theodore Nott Senior had no idea of the almost vengeful ploys planned by his wife and her associates.

"Morning young man," Theo is caught slightly off-guard from his daylight reveries at the sight of the keypad beeping open and a man entering the ward, rubbing a tired hand over his eyes. Xavier Donahue had been spending just as much time with his little sister as Theo had with his mother. And it relieved Theo in a way that when he returned to the avalanche of essays and studying at Hogwarts, that his mother would be taken care of.

"Morning," says Theo, adjusting himself in his chair and bunching the blanket to the side.

"You spent quite a night here," Xavier muses, "Thought you could do with the blanket. It's still quite cold."

"Oh, uh, thanks."

"You mind coming down to the café with me? Had to rush here early to see your mother and making it to work on time. I'm famished. Could really do with a coffee."

Theo nods, slowly rising from his chair. He takes one last look at his sleeping mother and heads out of the door Xavier holds open for him, heading into the corridor pervaded with shielded windows and endless doors. The café was only one floor up from Spell Damage so it wasn't long before Theo and Xavier sat down at a two-person table and had their orders in progress.

     "Missing school?"

     Theo had to let out a scoff ridden with ridicule at the question. "No way."

     Xavier raises an amused eyebrow. "No?"

     "It's unlikely that I'll miss a place where nothing even remotely good happens or where there's just constant bad feelings all around."

     Because here was the thing: it astounded Theo to say that what was happening with Umbridge's dictatorship-like intentions for the school was no longer as much of a mood spoiler. In the beginning it's all he wanted to eradicate and all that forced this bitter spiteful residue on his tongue. Now that was the least bad part of it all. The least significant. His only comfortable friendship happened to be that in Blaise Zabini, where the Italian would accompany Theo where possible. He hardly talked to any other person apart from Daphne, Maryam or Eva, but those friendships seemed to be strained in their own ways. And then there was Draco... Theo missed the days like in fourth years when he and Draco were able to banter around with each other so easily, when everything was so light between them. That was before everything else happened. Before a rift tore between each of their Herculean walls that separated them even more as people. Their friendship was no longer the same.

     And Theo missed the days when Cassia was his best friend.

     He missed her a lot. She had always been there for him in times he was nothing but doubt and now she just wasn't. And he understood, even though he wishes he didn't. She may have lost her temper that day, but he lost her trust.

     Throat clearing sounds in Theo's ear. The waiter drops a tray on their table, containing their order. Xavier thanks the waiter and tips him with cash before the waiter retreats.

"There's, er, all that stuff happening with Dolores Umbridge, huh?" says Xavier as he pulls forward a large-handled mug filled with coffee. "Sterling was telling me about it."

Theo nods, his eyes heavy with fatigue and dread. "She's the worst."

The taste of the coffee was bitter and burned his tongue with its blazing heat fumes, but he supposes its the wake-up call he needed. He takes the plate nearest to him on the tray and as soon as he caught sight of what kind of sandwich and it's smell, he grimaces. Theo regrets telling the waiter that he could choose Theo a sandwich.

"Egg mayo sucks," he says, pushing the plate away from him with a distasteful prod.

Instead, he grabs ahold of one of the millionaire shortbreads also on the tray and rips the packet off. He's about to bite a large chunk from it when a plate is replaced in front of him. He looks up, seeing his uncle leaning back in his chair all the while pushing his plated BLT forward with two fingers.

"Perhaps it's time I go vegetarian." Xavier takes Theo's sandwich without another thought. Theo places down the shortbread and drags the plate closer to him, managing to catch Xavier's slight grin through a mouthful of egg mayo sandwich.

     "What about your friends, then?" Xavier pipes up after some time. "Surely you miss them?"

"Kinda short on friends at the moment," Theo lets out a disdainful laugh. He's looking down so can't see the way the corners of Xavier's mouth have perked down curiously.

"How so?" asks Xavier. "Luce tells me you're close with the Greengrass sisters, that Zabini boy too."

"I'm fine with Blaise," says Theo.

Xavier raises his eyebrows.

"Anything your mother needs to know?"

"Nothing I want her to know."

"Fine," Xavier rubs his hands together free of sandwich crumbs. He places them flat against the table, giving his nephew a calculating look. "But don't pretend I don't know that look."

"What look."

The older man sighs. "My looks might make me appear in my twenties, but I was once your age too. And I also have a teenage son your age, Theodore. Pretty sure I'd know when a guy is in deep shit with the look on that face."

Theo scoffs. "I doubt Donahue could relate. He's flawless."

"Not everyone was born perfect. At the end of the day, all boys are the same."

The coffee had cooled down. Maybe if Theo stared at it hard enough, it could be the equivalent of drowning himself. He didn't like this conversation. At all.

(Though it surprised Theo to hear his uncle proclaim that Sterling Donahue may not have always been as perfect as he currently is.)

"What happened, then?"

Theo looks up to meet Xavier's searching look. He's partly surprised at how upfront his uncle is, it almost kind of reminds him of... himself.

"I got into a fight."

"So you say," says Xavier. "I wouldn't expect something like that to happen between you and the Greengrasses."

"Who says it was the Greengrasses?"

"I'm not stupid."

"Did I say that?"

Xavier sets his mug down and relaxes in his chair. "Anyone who says they aren't friends with some of the most genuine people is bound to have some sort of issue with them."

"They're not always that nice, you know."

"I didn't say that. I said they were genuine. There's a difference. Everyone has their bitch moments. That only makes them real."

Theo's jaw sets. Xavier must have had some experience in debating. "How do you know so much about them, anyways?"

"My son dated one of them for some time. And even now they've split up, Sterling still thinks the world of Daphne. And Cassia, and even Astoria. I've seen them around."

Xavier pauses for a second before saying, "Cassia is your best friend, isn't she?"

Theo is looking down. "Was. Past tense."

"So you do have an issue with the Greengrasses."

Something just ticks, and Theo drops his mug down with a harsh thud. He really doesn't like this conversation.

"Would you quit grilling me? I might have just found out you are my uncle but that doesn't give you the right to try and be my dad. I already have one of those."

"Not a very good one, by the looks of it."

     Apologies were a bitter lemon threatening Theo's mere existence and superiority complex. But in the end, there was no need to feel more superior than someone else when he was just absolute chaos on the inside.

     Xavier seemed to know that. He seemed to know his sister enough and know the hell she went through with a husband like hers and the consequence it has had on her son. Xavier knows Theo isn't a bad guy. Not at all. He's just mislead a little. Part of him hoped that he could do something about it. To Theo, his uncle was harsh. Like, wickedly harsh. It was hard to believe he was a Hufflepuff with how brutally honest he seemed to be all the time.

     But maybe it was like the coffee. Maybe it was a confrontation that was so bitter and so acetous, but maybe it was just something he needed. His wake up call. Like numbing water on your face first thing in the morning, Xavier was harsh in a way that it ended up being... refreshing. Strangely.

"I'm sorry." says Theo, and the words in itself were like a worm struggling to squeeze out of a pipe.

Xavier lets out a low sigh. "It doesn't matter if you apologise or not. I don't expect you to tell me what happened between you and your friend... I don't expect to be anything like a dad to you... but in the long run, if you truly are sorry, your actions will be more effective than words. We know that you're capable of forgiveness. She could be, too."

As if glued onto the half-finished BLT, Theo's mind processes more than his ears do. He can't hate Xavier for wanting to try to help him out, just like he hate Blaise for scowling at him whenever he makes petty remarks aimed towards Cassia, just like he can't hate Cassia for being made at him for a mistake he made. And just like he can't hate Cassia for making such a vile comparison that day when it was completely out of spite. Because it's all he's been going off for the last few weeks.

The rustle of a plastic is heard and the rap of a featherweight packet hits against Theo's sleeve.

"Eat up, son," says Xavier, eyes travelling down to the millionaire's shortbread he'd opened before. "Sugar's good for you."

Theo raises his eyes dubiously in relation to the mischievous grin Xavier wore, and picks up the shortbread.

———

POOR PROFESSOR TRELAWNEY, Cassia thought. She'd never been fond of her or her classes, or ever really cared about her, but a pang of sympathy resonated in soundwaves throughout her chest. It was known to most people that despite being a Seer, she wasn't very well-put-together. Her outfits were absurd, as was the consistency of her lessons... this, however, was something else.

It was abrupt, to say the least. Cassia had been with Maryam at the time and the two were heading to dinner. Maryam kept pestering Cassia over what she wanted for her birthday—since the twins' end of February birthday was fast-approaching—when they'd heard a tragic wail all the way from the Entrance Hall. They traded their dinner in to suffice their burning curiosity, the last thing they'd expected to see being the stark contrast of their kooky divination teacher in a mess in the Entrance Hall with their pompous defence teacher smiling patronisingly over her.

"Oh, god," Maryam's voice was lost amidst the commotion of nearly every pupil marching into the Entrance Hall. Pressed between many curious bodies, Cassia feels Maryam's hand grabbing onto hers and tugging her towards the front of the crowd, the sight only growing more and more horrifying as the inches neared.

    Professor Trelawney was in an absolute state. Her glittering, bohemian robes and shawls spilled off of her shoulder and bunched up over her elbow crooks, her forearms. Her fingers gripped desperately at a bottle of Sherry and her tear-ridden, glassy eyes differed in size to the other considerably, and her straggly hair haywire as if electrocuted. The two massive trunks she carried with her had undoubtedly been thrown out without any sort of mindfulness, and while Trelawney was scared past her senses, Professor Umbridge stood at the foot of the stairs with a content, even more toady smile on her face.

     "No!" wails Trelawney. "NO! This cannot be happening... it cannot... I refuse to accept it!"

     "You didn't realise this was coming?"

     The shrill voice irked Cassia's senses with a twitch. She feels a hand slip into hers and looking right, despite being pressed up amongst many others, the sight of her boyfriend welcomed her.

     "Hey." Harry said, slightly breathless.

     "Hey," Cassia replies. Harry and Maryam give each other nods of acknowledgment.

     "Incapable though you are of predicting even tomorrow's weather," says Umbridge, high-pitched though loud enough for the entire entrance hall to hear, "you must surely have realised that your pitiful performance during mu inspections, and lack of any improvement, would make it inevitable that you would be sacked?"

     "You c-can't!" cried Trelawney. "You c-can't sack me! I've b-been here sixteen years! H-Hogwarts is m-my h-home!"

     "It was your home," the smile fooled no one as much as Umbridge's blatantly condescending tone did, "until an hour ago, when the Minister for Magic countersigned your Order of Dismissal. Now kindly remove yourself from the Hall. You are embarrassing us."

     Pushing and forcing herself through the crowd, Professor McGonagall is first to intervene with the sobbing mess that was Professor Trelawney. With a large handkerchief swishing in the air, Professor McGonagall envelops her within her arms, patting her back as if it could ensure any reassurance.

     "There, there, Sybill," McGonagall soothes, "calm down... blow your nose on this... it's not as bad as you think, now... you are not going to have to leave Hogwarts..."

     Professor Umbridge steps forward with a challenging stare.

     "Oh, really, Professor McGonagall? And your authority for that statement is...?"

     "That would be mine," a voice lowly says.

At once, large front doors swung open emphatically. The crowd parted in an instant, making way for Headmaster Dumbledore to stride forward with the ambience encircling him being one of sole admiration and awe.

     "It's a literal reality TV show," Maryam blinks twice. Cassia can't help but agree: Professor Dumbledore did have a dramatic flair for every occasion. Cassia would love to see how Umbridge dealt with this.

"Yours, Professor Dumbledore?" Umbridge let out a ridiculed laugh. "I'm afraid you do not understand the position I have here — an Order of Dismissal signed by myself and the Minister for Magic. Under the terms of Educational—..."

"Oh, can she shut up with her fuckin' precious Decrees," Maryam groans quietly. "That woman is getting higher and higher on my list of people to mutilate in their sleep. Montague and Malfoy being joint first." Even though she was highly disturbed, she couldn't smile. And neither could Harry, by the looks of the quiet smile perking at his lips.

They missed whatever Umbridge had said, but regardless, it seemed to amuse Dumbledore judging by the smile he wore.

"You are quite right, of course, Professor Umbridge. As High Inquisitor you have every right to dismiss my teachers. You do not, however, have the authority to send them away from the castle. I am afraid that the power to do that still resisted with the Headmaster, and it is my wish Professor Trelawney continues to live at Hogwarts."

Professor Trelawney, still hysterical, ridden with hiccups, gasps to Professor Dumbledore. "No — no, I'll g-go, Dumbledore! I sh-shall leave Hogwarts and s-seek my fortune elsewhere—"

"No," with his firm tone, Dumbledore nods at Trelawney. "It is my wish that you remains, Sybill. Might I ask you to escort Sybill back upstairs, Professor McGonagall?"

With due time, Professor Trelawney and her luggage was escorted back into the castle by Professors McGonagall, Sprout and Flitwick. Professor Umbridge was frozen.

"And what," she says with a stiff voice, are you going to do with her once I appoint a new Divination teacher who needs her lodgings?"

Dumbledore smiles. "Oh, that won't be a problem. You see, I have already found us a new Divination teacher, and he will prefer lodgings on the ground floor."

Oh?

Umbridge looked even worse. "You've found—you've found? Might I remind you, Dumbledore, that under Educational Decree Number Twenty-two—"

"The Ministry has the right to appoint a suitable candidate if — and only if— the Headmaster is unable to find one," Dumbledore informs. "And I am happy to say that on this occasion I have succeeded. May I introduce you?"

Hovering like ghosts in the night-darkened doorway, the most clouding the open doors separated and the sound of hooves echoed within ears all around. With distinguishable platinum hair and crystalline eyes, a creature hybridising between a man and a horse stands proud and tall.

Dumbledore looks back to a shellshocked Umbridge.

"This is Firenze," he says, "I think you'll find him suitable."

     The commotion and racket generated by students all around was enough for Profoessor Dumbledore's sudden retrieving footsteps to be lost. All that remained were Umbridge and the centaur—Firenze—and a whole crowd of students that began dissipating back into the Hall.

     Harry turns to Cassia with a raised eyebrow. He squeezes her hand. "I'm, uh, gonna go see if I can find Dumbledore."

     Cassia nods. "Sure. I can find you later." They offer each other smiles before Harry disappears off into the crowd and it's now just Cassia and Maryam making their way towards the Great Hall.

     "What a show," Cassia says, incredulous that something like that had actually happened.

     "I know, wow," Maryam replies. "Never thought I could feel sorry for a person who tried predicting my death involving a possessed Montague and a staked broomstick."

     "Or a death where you get pecked alive by magpies. She ended up telling me that, too."

     "Only because you're too in denial to admit you're superstitious." Maryam frowns. "One good thing's come out of it, though."

     "And what's that?" asks Cassia.

     "We now have a mega fit Divination teacher," says Maryam, laughing with Cassia. They're just about to enter the Hall when a hand holds back Cassia's shoulder, preventing her from moving forward. She turns only to see the hard and stoic stare of Blaise Zabini, who—clearly—seems to want something. Maryam raises an eyebrow and Cassia nods, signalling for her to go inside. It was just her and Blaise now.

     "Hey." says Blaise.

     "Hey." says Cassia. "What is it?"

     "Astoria told me about your father," he says, swiftly. Cassia doesn't think she should be surprised or worried since Astoria was smart.

     "Okay," says Cassia.

     "Yeah," says Blaise.

     "And?"

     "I know that's what you and Theo argued over."

     Cassia folds her arms together. What was he getting at? "How much has he told you."

     "Enough," says Blaise. "And I also know about Abercrombie's father. Him being a Death Eater."

     What?

     "Whatever Theo told you—"

     "He didn't tell me anything." Blaise tells her with a cutting edge.

     "Then how do you know?"

     "That doesn't matter." Blaise says, "You and Theo need to sort yourselves out."

     Cassia raises an eyebrow. "Do we, now? What makes you say that? You know what happened."

     "Yeah, and I know you're being a hypocrite too." Blaise scoffs. "You know about Abercrombie while Theo knew about your father. Yet you flipped out at him. When you're not even going to your best friend to tell her what you know."

     Checking her surroundings, Cassia lowers her voice, "I'm not telling Eva because I don't want to hurt her and because I don't know if it's the truth—"

     "It is the truth." Blaise cuts in. "Anything you know and have found out will most likely be true."

     Cassia drops her head to the side slightly. How does Blaise know so much about this?

     "Seems like I'm not the only one keeping secrets," says Cassia.

     "No. So you can't get mad at Theo for that. He did the exact thing you're doing to Abercrombie. Because he cares about you."

     Cassia sighs, her hands coming up to tangle through the hair at her scalp. "What's your point, Blaise?"

     Blaise's mouth clamps together, surveying Cassia over. "We've all made bloody mistakes. But we've forgiven the worst of them too. Theo has been owling me and he'll be returning next week, most likely. I'm not speaking as your sister's boyfriend here. I'm speaking as yours and Theo's friend. Don't ruin your chance. You've held a grudge long enough, and so has he."

     The thing is, and the part of Cassia that loves to think she's right hates that she's wrong, because Blaise is right. She's being a hypocrite. All this time she knew about Eva's father yet said nothing while Theo knew about her father and didn't say so either. It was just chance that Cassia found out in that way. Cassia was bound to find out sooner or later, and Eva will be bound to the same fate if Cassia didn't come clean pretty quickly.

     The other thing is that Cassia is just tired of being petty, and spiteful, and grudging to a boy who was her best friend a few weeks ago. She was absolutely tired of it then, when his mother was declared to be in hospital and they couldn't even look at each other, and she's absolutely tired of it now. She missed him so much and was just exhausted of it all. She just wanted him back.

     "Fine," says Cassia.

     "Good." Blaise's voice was harsh and reprimanding. An eyebrow raised ever so slightly, all trace of their conversation would be erased once he stepped away but before he could do so Cassia's voice stopped him.

     "Listen here, Blaise," says Cassia, and there's a rare, warning viciousness seething through her eyes. "I may trust my little sister with the absolute moon but I've been lenient with you. If you even dare do anything to destroy Astoria and the trust she has for you, my mother and whatever she'd put in her letters would be the least of your worries. You might be my friend, but she's my sister. Dating her is a promise to do good by her, no matter what."

     Blaise squints his eyes at her. "Let me guess, nothing personal?"

     Cassia smiles. "Exactly the point. Enjoy dinner." She turns back around and starts strolling her way to dinner when Blaise's low voice stops her.

     "Hey."

     "What?" Cassia turns around, facing his hard stare once more.

     "I don't have to promise that I'll do good by her, because I will."

     Cassia presses her lips together. "Good."

     "And just so you know," says Blaise, "Theo misses you too."

     (Blaise's words were like a flicker of a flame on the candle inside her heart. A flicker of hope. Maybe there could be a path of redemption with her and Theo's name on it. And maybe if she told Eva soon enough, she could avoid falling into the same fate as her and Theo. But she was also at unrest with how knowledgable Blaise was about Eva's dad. How did he know, and what did that all mean?)

———

another chapter up!! lemme know what you thought of it, i hope you guys are all doing well and taking care of yourself!!! ily all 💖

we're in the last sorta "third" of ootp and i'm not entirely sure how many more chapters of this part as some tend to be longer than others so let's just say we're coming to the end of this part!!

(also yes i'm trying not to rant so much in my author notes :p)