Cassiopeia was surrounded by darkness, the same suffocating void that pulled at her from all sides. Sirius's voice echoed in the distance, "You're not my daughter!"

Cassie didn't respond. Her chest heaved as she spun around, searching for something—anything—but all she saw was endless black. She tried to move away from the sound, but her feet wouldn't obey.

Out of the nothingness, Regulus emerged. His face was pale. He stood still, almost too calm, his voicereached her like a ghostly breeze. "Before it's too late."

"Regulus!" Cassie yelled, her hand reaching out to him, desperate- "Don't go—don't leave me!"

But he didn't move closer. Instead, his figure began to flicker like a dying flame. "Before it's too late," he repeated softly, fading into the darkness.

"No!" she stumbled forward, but her feet wouldn't obey her. Her body felt heavy, paralyzed.

And then she saw her mother, Valerie. Beautiful, calm, and untouchable.

Cassie tried to move toward her, but the same faceless figure emerged behind Valerie, Cassie's eyes narrowed, "Not again," she hissed, fumbling for her wand.

Before she could lift it, the figure raised a dagger.

"No!" Cassie screamed,  She struggled to intervene, to act, but her body wouldn't listen. She was trapped, her feet rooted to the spot as if the shadows themselves held her back.

The dagger plunged into Valerie's chest.

Cassie felt the scream tear through her throat, but no sound escaped. The world tilted, spinning, and her vision blurred as she tried to reach her mother. But the void pulled her back, 

"No—stop—don't!" she choked, her hands clawing at the air.

 Her eyes were fixed on Valerie's lifeless form, her blood pooling beneath her. 

Cassie tried to move, tried to fight, but her feet remained glued to the ground."Not again," she whispered hoarsely, panic clawing at her chest. The shadows surged forward, swallowing her whole—

Cassiopeia jolted awake, gasping for breath as her heart slammed against her ribs. Her hands trembled as she fumbled for the clock. 4:00 AM. Only four in teh bloody morning. She let out a shaky sigh, her fingers brushing against her wand beside it.

She fell back against the pillow, forcing her eyes closed again. It was just a dream. Just a dream. But the second she shut her eyes, the same scene replayed in vivid, excruciating detail. The blood. The darkness. Her mother's lifeless face.

Cassie's eyes snapped open. "Yeah, no," she muttered to herself, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. "Definitely no more sleep for me."

The room was cold, the air still, She got up, tying her messy hair into a loose knot at the nape of her neck. Her hands shook as she grabbed her wand and dagger, slipping both into her robe pockets.

The house was silent, filled with stillness that matched the gloomy corridors. Everyone else was asleep, and for a moment, Cassiopeia felt like the only soul awake in the entire world.

Her footsteps were slow as she made her way down the stairs, careful not to make a sound. The only noise was the faint creak of the old wooden floorboards beneath her feet and the quiet hum of her own breath.

The moonlight barely filtered through the windows, casting long, eerie shadows across the walls. Cassie's fingers brushed the hilt of the dagger in her pocket as she moved, more out of habit than fear.

Backyard? she thought, There must be a backyard to this place. 

Cassie made her way toward the hall,  As she passed the dining table, her eyes caught the chaos left behind—utensils scattered across the surface, chairs askew. It was testament to the storm she had left behind just hours ago.

Her gaze lingered on the mess for a moment before she looked away, her jaw tightening. She didn't need a reminder of what had happend. Not now.

Further down the hall, she found a door slightly ajar. Dust clung to its edges, and the faint scent of mildew wafted through the crack. Cassie pushed it open cautiously, stepping out into the cool night air.

The wind hit her face, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and wild grass. She exhaled slowly, letting the chill seep into her skin. The backyard wasn't much of a backyard at all. It was more like a small, untamed jungle—wild and overgrown, with thick vines curling around trees and bushes stretching out haphazardly. The moonlight barely filtered through the canopy above, casting shadows that danced and shifted with the breeze.

But for some reason, the chaos of it felt oddly comforting.

Cassie stepped forward, her fingers brushing against a low-hanging branch. She could feel the rough bark beneath her fingertips.  The world felt quieter out here, less suffocating.

She tilted her head back, her eyes tracing the few stars visible through the dense canopy. For a fleeting moment, she let herself breathe, the cool night air calming the chaos swirling inside her.

"What to do now..." she muttered under her breath, her fingers absentmindedly brushing against the pocket of her robe. The faint rustle of parchment sparked a memory.

Theo's letter.

With a sigh, she fumbled through the mess of her pockets. She had barely glanced at them—there were so many, after all. Blaise had been staying over at Theo's for the past few weeks, and the letters... well, Theo had a tendency to overcompensate when she didn't reply.

Pulling out a slightly crumpled piece of parchment, she smiled at the familiar untidy scrawl of Theo's handwriting. "This better be worth it," she mumbled, unfolding the letter

Dear Cassie (4th time's the charm, maybe?):

This is officially the fourth letter I'm sending you this week. Either Mortem hates me (which is highly likely, let's be honest), or you've decided to torture me with silence (which is even more likely, knowing you). If it's the latter—bravo. You've succeeded.

Anyway, here's the latest update from my endlessly tragic life.

First, Grandmother. Oh, Cassie, Grandmother. She's been on a warpath, dragging me into her nonsensical plans to "revive the family traditions." This morning, I was forced into some ridiculous, centuries-old robe that smelled like mothballs and disappointment. Apparently, the fabric was woven by our ancestors or something, but I think it was more likely woven by bored house-elves who had a grudge. I looked like an overgrown bat. Blaise saw me and hasn't stopped laughing since.

Speaking of Blaise—yes, I gave him an exploding letter. He deserved it. He said something about me being a "mama's boy" because I refused to duel my grandmother over the robes (which, by the way, is absurd—she's terrifying). I'm pretty sure Blaise's eyebrows will grow back in a week or two.

Pansy, of course, got her own special letter. I sent her a letter enchanted to feel slimy. She screamed loud enough to wake the portraits. Do I regret it? Not one bit. She called me "adorably pathetic" last week, so really, she had it coming.

As for me, when I'm not plotting revenge or dodging Grandmother's lectures, I'm attempting to read (The runes book we planned to work on -you know, be productive), but it's hard to concentrate when Blaise keeps bursting into my room, throwing chocolate frogs at my head, and yelling, "Theo, let's play quidditch!"

So here I am, desperately hoping you'll reply to this letter, if only to remind me that sanity exists somewhere in the world. .

Write back, Cassie. Or I'll send Blaise to find you. And trust me, you don't want that.

Your Fav-
Theo

Cassie reached the end of the letter, not realizing she had been smiling the entire time. Dammit. She did miss them—more than she wanted to admit.

She sighed, folding the parchment neatly and setting it aside. "I have to reply," she muttered to herself. "Before he actually sends Blaise over. Merlin knows I don't need that headache on top of everything else."

Pulling out a blank piece of parchment, she dipped her quill in ink, she began to write-

Dear Theo,

You won't believe where I am right now. My family home. Yes, you read that right. Apparently, Potter has been staying here with that absolute asshole Sirius and a whole bunch of blood traitors. Naturally, I decided to come and see what's going on.

It's—

Cassie paused, her quill hovering over the parchment. She had half a mind to tell him about everything that happened yesterday—the fight, the accusations, the shattered calm—but she stopped herself. Theo would freak out. He'd probably drop everything and rush over here, and she didn't need that. He was enjoying himself, and she wasn't about to ruin that.

...well, let's just say it's great. Everyone sucks here, and by everyone, I mean everyone. It's like living in a bad joke where you're the punchline.

I'd tell you more, but it sounds like you're having the time of your life with Blaise and his exploding letters. Wish I could be there to witness the chaos firsthand.

Oh, by the way—have you heard from Draco? I've half a mind to believe Uncle's been intercepting his owls. 

Anyway, try not to burn your grandmother's house down. Or do—it might be an improvement.

Half-dead but surviving,
Cassie

Cassie leaned back , rereading the letter before sealing it. It wasn't much, but it would keep Theo satisfied and, more importantly, keep him from showing up anywhere unannounced. She'd deal with her own mess on her own. For now.

She'd just send it through Kreacher. Theo wasn't a fan of the house-elf's surprise visits.

Cassie tucked the letter into her robe and stretched her legs, shutting her eyes. She could almost forget for a moment—then the sound of the world outside began to blur into the background.

A few hours passed before she even realized it. Cassie had fallen asleep, her back propped up against the tree, and she didn't even notice until the sun hit her face like a slap

The bustling around the house had already begun.

right. the meeting.

Cassie groaned, running a hand through her messy hair. She reluctantly got to her feet and stretched, the remnants of sleep still clinging to her mind. She needed to freshen up.  She wasn't exactly in the mood, but that didn't matter. She needed to see what the Order had up their sleeves. Time to see whether this side was even worth joining

*******************************************

Cassiopeia marched into the hall where the supposed meeting was taking place, her boots clicking softly against the wooden floor. She made no effort to hide her arrival—why should she? Let them stare, let them murmur. Made her feel special- Her robes, deep green with subtle silver trim, swished lightly as she walked, the embroidery catching faint light. She ignored the glances and hushed whispers that accompanied-

The room was sparsely filled at first. Mad-Eye Moody, perched near the far end, barely acknowledged her except for his magical eye swiveling her way, watching her like a hawk. Tonks sat next to him, absentmindedly spinning her wand in her fingers and muttering something to Kingsley Shacklebolt . Molly Weasley stood by the side table, fussing over Fred and George 

Finding the head of the table unoccupied, she slid into the chair without hesitation, leaning back  She clasped her hands in her lap, her expression unreadable as the rest of the room slowly filled.

Remus entered a few moments later, He caught her eye and smiled faintly as he approached, taking the seat next to her. "Had a good sleep?" 

"Not a wink," Cassie replied dryly, her gaze fixed on the table as she toyed with a loose thread on her sleeve.

Across the room, Sirius sat in conversation with Arthur Weasley, but he didn't meet her eyes. Not once. Cassie noticed the way his shoulders tensed every time her name was mentioned in passing.

The door creaked open again, and a few more faces entered. Cassiopeia didn't immediately recognize them—newer recruits, probably? Fresh blood for Dumbledore's little army.

She raised an eyebrow, her gaze sweeping over the room as she leaned back in her chair. Ragtag barely began to describe them. Blood traitors, misfits, and rebels, each with their own warped ideas of justice and heroism. It was almost amusing—almost. If it weren't for the stakes, she might have laughed. Instead, she let the corners of her mouth twitch into something between a smirk and a grimace.

Cassie flicked a stray strand of hair from her face, her fingers idly tracing the edge of the table. These people were supposed to be the great hope against the Dark Lord? The irony wasn't lost on her. Yet here she was, sitting among them, along with the supposed traitor to her bloodline. Life had a cruel sense of humor.

As the room fell into an expectant hush as everyone settled , Sirius's voice broke the silence."Where's Dumbledore?" he asked loudly, glancing at the clock on the wall. 

"He'll be here any minute," Lupin said exhasperated- 

As if on cue, Dumbledore's voice broke through . "I believe I am already here, Sirius."

All eyes turned to the headmaster, who had been quietly observing the group. Sirius flushed slightly, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms defensively.

"Right," Sirius muttered, clearly annoyed. "About time we got started, then."

Dumbledore didn't respond immediately. Instead, his gaze swept the room, lingering briefly on each member before finally settling on Cassie,  he paused, tilting his head ever so slightly. There was no surprise in his expression, just a faint, unreadable smile, and a small nod. It wasn't approval, exactly—but it was something. He looked satisfied, as if her presence had answered a question only he had been asking.

Cassie raised her chin, meeting his gaze with  stare. She didn't flinch or look away. If he thought her being here was some kind of victory, he was sorely mistaken.

"Ms Black" he began as he settled directly across from her at the other end of the table. "I must admit, I hadn't expected to see you here."

Cassie's eyes narrowed slightly, "You invited me," she replied dryly. "It would've been rude not to show up."

A few people shifted uncomfortably in their seats at her tone, but Dumbledore only smiled faintly, as if amused.

"Indeed," he said simply, leaning back in his chair. "I hope you find the discussion worthwhile."

Cassie didn't respond

Sirius, clearly fed up with all the attention cassiopeia had beeen getting "Can we get on with it? We've got more important things to discuss than... whatever this is."

"Patience, Sirius," Dumbledore said mildly as though he were presiding over a friendly gathering rather than a war council. Sirius slouched in his chair, arms crossed and jaw set, 

Dumbledore, as calm as ever, opened the meeting. "Kingsley, any updates?"

"There's been more activity in Knockturn Alley. A group has been spotted moving in and out of Borgin and Burkes after hours. I didn't recognize any of them—seems younger. New recruits, perhaps."

"Must be up to something," Bill said, nodding thoughtfully. "We should go seize them before it escalates."

"That's not the solution," Dumbledore replied,

Cassie, lounging with one elbow propped on the table, let out a sharp scoff. "Oh, yes. Let's preach to them about the virtues of the good side. That'll win them over."

The room went quiet, a few members exchanging uneasy glances. Dumbledore, however, didn't so much as blink, turning instead to Mundungus. "Can you arrange for a few eyes to watch the area?"

Mundungus shrugged indifferently "Sure can. Got a few lads who owe me favors."

Cassie scoffed under her breath, drawing a pointed look from Remus beside her. She ignored him, leaning forward slightly, her voice laced with sarcasm. "You know, all this is just a distraction. Voldemort's got bigger plans. If you want to talk about something worth discussing, let's talk about the dementors. They've been running wild, haven't they? Attacked your precious Boy Who Lived, didn't they?"

"We already know Voldemort is recruiting the dementors," Sirius said, his voice dry, his eyes narrowing. "There's nothing we can do about that. He can offer them what we can't—souls."

Cassie, who had been absently twisting the ring on her finger, looked up sharply. "And why can't we offer them souls too?" she asked, her tone casual, as if she were suggesting something perfectly reasonable.

The room froze, the weight of her words sinking in. Disgusted looks flickered across several faces

"Grow up," Cassie scoffed, rolling her eyes at their reactions. "We could easily promise them the souls of all the Death Eaters we're going to capture. Think about it—it's not like they'll need them where they're going." 

 "But wait," she said, stopping herself mid-thought. "That wouldn't work either, would it? The Dark Lord can just offer a lot more souls—an endless buffet of despair or whatever it is those leeches crave."

The room was silent, a mix of shock and discomfort thick in the air. Moody's magical eye whirred toward Cassie, his face unreadable but his lips pressed into a tight line.

"That's enough," Dumbledore said  firmly, Cassie caught the subtle shift in his tone, Was he... worried? Worried that he was losing their attention, losing control of the room?

Cassie leaned back "Just saying," she muttered. "Might be time to start thinking outside your little moral box if you actually want to win this war."

Moody grunted, his magical eye swiveling toward Cassie. "She's not wrong about one thing," he muttered. "If those Dementors keep siding with him, we're in trouble."

"An Azkaban breakout that's bound to happen. That's where his priorities lie—making sure it doesn't blow up in his face." Cassie said

"Agreed," Moody grunted, "If those Death Eaters get loose, it'll be chaos."

Cassie scoffed, the corner of her mouth curling into a sardonic smile. "Let's just sneak into Azkaban and kill them all. Problem solved."

The room fell into an uneasy silence. Several Order members exchanged uneasy glances, while Sirius pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath.

Dumbledore's gaze sharpened, "That is not practical, Cassiopeia. Nor does it align with the values of the Order. We do not kill."

Moody frowned, his expression darkening. He clearly didn't agree with Dumbledore, though he kept his thoughts to himself. His magical eye locked onto Cassie's, and for a brief moment, there was an unspoken understanding between them. 

 "Sure," she said dryly, her voice dripping with mockery. "Isn't that why you almost lost the first war?" Cassie said, her voice low but cutting. "Stop being idiots. It's better to kill a few Death Eaters than let them slaughter innocent wizards."

Dumbledore's expression didn't waver. "We do not lower ourselves to the methods of our enemies, Miss Black. That distinction is what separates us from them."

Cassie laughed , a sound devoid of humor. "That distinction is exactly why you're always one step behind. Voldemort doesn't care about lines or morality. He'll cross every single one if it means winning. Meanwhile, you sit here debating what's 'right' and 'fair.'"

Moody let out a grunt, his magical eye flicking back to Dumbledore. "She's not wrong about that. Voldemort doesn't play by the rules. If those Death Eaters break out, it's not just a few bodies to worry about—it's an army."

"We are well aware of the risks," Dumbledore replied, his tone sharper now. "But we will not resort to becoming executioners. That is not who we are."

Cassie leaned back in her chair, her arms crossed, a smirk playing on her lips. "Who you are isn't going to matter much when you're dead. Just saying."

 Sirius, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, suddenly spoke up, his voice tight with frustration. "Can we focus on the actual plan instead of listening to this rubbish? We've got bigger problems to deal with than her opinion on how to win this war."

Cassie's smirk vanished, replaced by a cold glare. "I'm sorry, Sirius, were you planning to contribute something useful for once, or are you just here to sulk and bark orders?"

"Enough," Dumbledore said again,  He turned his attention to Arthur. "Any progress on the Ministry's stance?"

Arthur sighed heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Fudge is still refusing to acknowledge Voldemort's return. He's been keeping the press and half the Ministry firmly against Albus. Every time we try to gain ground, he pushes back harder."

The meeting dragged on with discussions of patrols, intelligence gathering, and contingency plans, but Cassie had already tuned out. As far as she was concerned, this wasn't a war—it was a poorly organized rescue mission with no endgame in sight.

And if they kept this up, there wouldn't be a second war to lose.

She hadn't noticed the exact moment the meeting began to fizzle out. Voices softened into murmurs, chairs scraped against the floor, and members started filing out, their tired faces speaking volumes about their dwindling hope. Cassie only snapped back to the present when Dumbledore stood, 

Her gaze locked onto his as he turned toward her, his expression unreadable at first—but then it shifted. Subtle, but unmistakable. A flicker of irritation crossed his face, fleeting but sharp enough to be noticed. It was a rare break in his composed demeanor, and Cassie caught it like a hawk.

Was he regretting calling her here? Afraid she'd upset the control he held over this group? For the first time that night, Cassie almost smiled. It was amusing to think that the great Albus Dumbledore might feel threatened—not by Voldemort, but by her.

**********

so- starting of with theo and blaise- being absolute darlings- dumbleodre a manipulative bitch- as usual-

so- ig in a way this was filler chap (ik pretty long filler- )but tbh i was just trying to establish the contrasting views cassie and dumbledore had- and tehy both are the kind of people who lead- hence the clash-

i guess we can expect golden triox cassie moments maybe- or sirius x cassie who knows- 

sooo- yeaaa---

till next time mxriddle